17/01/11
On the road back to Phnom Penh
Commerce.
Ponies. Scooter Repair Shops. Pineapples. Petrol. Lumber. Bamboo. Fanta. Timber. Bricks. Cell Phones. Auto Repair Shop. Beauty Shop. Firewood. Gravel. Fish pens. Propane tanks. Baby Ducks. Dog. Watches. Water. Cigarettes. Second Hand Petrol. Internet Service. Tarantellas.
Tires. 22-inch Rims for the tires ("I mean, them tens. They're tens, but I keep 'em clean."). Dirt. Heavy Equipment. Their parts. Furniture. Empty Petrol Tanks. Culverts. Bananas. Bikes. Oil. Hula Hoops. Crickets. Flowers. Coconuts. Chicken Feet. Liquor. Bread. Sand. Eggs. Dental Work. Chips. Baskets. Motorcycle Helmets. Wrapping Paper. Mirrors. Laundry Service. Concrete. Foam. Beds. The Cambodian People's Party Offices.
No Monkeys...yet. Paint. Those little round things with ribs in them that spin on top of buildings for ventilation (don’t know what they are called). Granite Countertops. Ceramic Tile. Cacti. Stone Benches. Buddhist Prayer Shrines. Steel Barrels. Pharmaceuticals. Xerox Copiers.Sandals. Shoes.
This is what drives the Cambodian economy. Anything you can get your hands on that has value. There is nothing you cannot sell, including people and political influence.
There are a number of items available for purchase when traveling. The toughest sellers are children.
They ask you to buy: “Pineapple, sir, one dollar. One dollar for pineapple, sir?” Their sad eyes draw you to them at first, and you want to buy anything and everything from them. Then, the charm begins to fade. You begin to realize that Cambodia offers a good lesson in the survival of the fittest.
The hustle here is universal. Whoever gets to you first wins, so they do everything they can to get to you first. “Nice scarf for your girlfriend. Your mother want nice bracelet?” Once you begin to speak with them, however, the game for the less successful breaks down. When that happens, they get frustrated or angry. After a while, you begin to see through them. They do this every day, all day, trying to make a buck. Everyone is a potential customer. In the law of averages when it comes to survival, the only thing is the hard sell.
The real smart ones have their script and they look for the weakest link: someone who feels sorry for them. They have an answer cleverly, without hesitation. And so they come, relentlessly. Tirelessly. Aggressively. It begins to be fun if you enjoy the banter after a while. “My mother doesn’t like bracelets,” I tell one. “She will like this one, it’s the best.” “I don’t have any money,” I tell another young girl. Her response, “No money, no honey,” and then walked away to barter her wares to another not quite as “clever” as myself.
We had seen that phrase on a T-shirt up the road earlier in the day at Angkor Wat, one of the seven wonders of the world...ironic to say the least...
I realized this was something of a pop culture reference, and the girl walked away as if she meant it. I almost felt bad for myself, and had to remember I was successfully married and my wife loves me for more than my money. It is all fun and games till you are hustled by a child. This is the way it works here. Poked, prodded, and generally manipulated, you will begin to question the very fabric of your being and what the desire for goods, services, and money has done to all of us.
