Weekend in Kep

This past weekend some friends and I went to Kep, on the southern coast of Cambodia, to celebrate a couple PCVs' birthdays. We spent a couple of days taking in Cambodia’s ambitiously self-proclaimed “most beautiful bays in the world” – swimming in the ocean (and trying not to cut our feet on the “beautiful bays’” jagged rocks), eating some pretty good seafood and pasta, and relaxing. It was a good time and nice to get to know some PCVs I had previously not hung out with too much.

Before I left, Ohn mentioned to me that Kampot, the province right next to Kep, is known for its delicious durian. “Oh” I said, not prompting elaboration. “Oh man, I would just love a durian…” Ohn said looking pointedly at me as I took a sudden interest in the state of my fingernails. I finally looked up. “…would you like me to bring you back a durian?” “That’d be great! Thanks!”

In case you didn’t know, durian is probably the most disgusting fruit in existence. If its pointed, spiky exterior isn’t enough to deter you, it emits a foul smell repelling anyone with an ounce of common sense in them. Hotels actually ban durian from their premises for their rank, persistent smell: “No guns, no prostitition, no durian.” Despite this, Cambodians can’t seem to get enough of this fruit; the larger, spikier, and smellier, the more delicious.

I waited until our last day to buy the fruit because I knew it’d smell, even if left whole and not cut open. Late in the afternoon a couple of friends and I went to the market; we scoped out the selection and bought what we (as non-durian lovers) perceived to be the most big and delicious of them all (for $7 no less- not only does durian smell like a decomposing onion but it’s also expensive). Jump ahead to the next morning- I’ve just come back to our room and noticed a putrid smell the moment I walk in. “Ugh... What is that?” I ask Amelia, momentarily forgetting the obligatory purchase I made the day before. “I think… it’s the durian” Amelia said and our gaze slowly shifts in horror to the demonic fruit sitting unsuspectingly between the bed and the nightstand.

The fruit continued to be the bane of my existence as I lugged it from Kep back to Phnom Penh, and then to my village. Its spikes tore into my leg as I lugged it towards the bus; the bus driver put his arm out to block me from getting on, pointing to the undercarriage of the bus to which I moped away in shame to banish my durian. In the Peace Corps office, the first thing an unwitting PCV said when Diana and I walked in the lounge was “What smells like durian?” Luckily, Diana was willing to share my burden and was a good sport about the looks of loathing and disgust we got as we made our way back to our province. On our van to get back to site the durian got buried under the weight of 32 (!) people’s luggage, the smell being overridden by the very human smell that accompanies that many people in a hot, crowded space. Fortunately, the durian is now out of my custody having been handed off to Ohn who couldn't be happier about it.

A few more pictures:

A sunset so beautiful we were prompted to sing the national anthem (four of us who had sung at our swear-in were there), only to hear clapping from behind us as we finished and discover a Chinese tourist who had, unbeknownst to us, been enjoying our singing and recording us on her phone haha

Diana and I befriended this pup on our way back to site. He kept shoving his head between the headrests until Diana and I picked him up and let him sit with us, which is apparently where he wanted to be.

It was a very tightly-packed van. "I say we get rid of the fat guy" Diana suggested of the fourth guy in our row who was the straw breaking our PCV backs

That's all for now! More soon.