Saturday, October 9, 2010

Take A Walk In My Pants

So where do I begin? We just completed training and we are two days into our official service as volunteers. School has officially, unofficially started which means that no one shows up. I figure this would be a wonderful time to add a letter. Being a Peace Corps Trainee (PCT) was one of the most challenging things I have ever done in my life. I am so happy to have completed that chapter in my service. However, with the bad also came some good stories. For example, the most embarrassing story of my adult life:
During training we lived in a medium sized village called Boukinow, in Kampong Cham province. Jake and I had spent 6 successful weeks learning how to integrate into Cambodian society. At this point in my life in Cambodia, I had started using my newly developed Khmer language skills which was starting to help me make friendships with our neighbors and business women that I frequented (ie coffee lady, waffle lady, phone shop lady, students). At this point I had also completely lowered my standard of what “clean” means and what “will” and “will not” gross me out. This is essential for survival in rural Cambodian. I had also grown a liking for Khmer fashion and I starting experimenting with new fashion styles.
One day I decided to buy a pair of Thai Fishermen pants. For those of you who are unfamiliar with these, let me explain. They are a peculiar piece of wardrobe, I tell you. So the pants are made of very thin cotton, kinda silk-like which is awesome in the heat. They are very baggy and loose on the crotch area, which is also awesome in the heat. They do not have a zipper, buttons, elastic or a waistband for that matter. They only have two ties on the back of the pant which are used to keep the pants attached to your body. To do this, you take the excess fabric and fold in, towards your hip, and then you pull the strings from the back of the pants to the front, and tie. This creates a waistband and gives the pants there signature look. It also gives opportunity for major wardrobe malfunction.
So, one day I decided to wear my new pants out on the town. I happened to opt for full comfort by choosing to go commando. We went to our regular coffee spot and the morning was going as usual. I ordered a café tuk da-go k’dow (hot coffee with sweetened condensed milk/khmer milk) and Jake and I socialized with our friends while glancing at the TV which is turned up to a deafening volume each morning. The early morning entertainment usually consisted of a very bad B Chinese movie with terrible Khmer dubbing which is always about 5 seconds off. These were mostly bad action or Kung Fu films with some soft porn and no sound effect noises due to the dubbing. The content of the films always seemed inappropriate for 6am in the morning. Sadly, I guess I have been programmed to think that Good Morning America is what morning entertainment should be. All of the hang bai (café) patrons are thoroughly entertained by the films when they are not busy staring at us. Anyway, Jake left for language class before me and I departed to our house to meet my Khmer teacher for one-on-one tutoring. As I walked down the main road, I noticed a man give a double take while looking at my pants. Unfortunately, I didn’t think anything of it since everyone was impressed by my newly acquired fashion and stared frequently while making comments. I continued on my way and ignored the stares. I got to my village entrance when I noticed a young girl’s mouth literally drop while staring at my crotch. This stare seemed a bit over the top and I looked down to see that my pant strings allowed the waistband to become loose, exposing my entire bush! Yes, I walked across town showing my bush to a society where women generally do not show their shoulders or knees unless she is a prostitute or attending a wedding. Cambodia is generally very conservative when it comes to females’ dress. So, after I noticed my full frontal exposure, I quickly put my pants together while holding on for dear life. I tried to race home while thinking in the back of my mind that my neighbors were already talking about the incident. I was told that word gets around very quickly in small villages; and I believe it. I was also paranoid that my language teacher, who was riding his bike a few minutes behind me, would have rode through the people who gathered to hear to poor girl’s commentary about me. I finally reached my house to find the usual scene; my host mother and host sister cutting bananas on the wooden platform bed while host dad was wandering around the front yard in anticipation of our arrival home. I tried not to look too panicked but they laughed at me for they way I was trying to hold my pants up. I quickly changed and attended my tutoring session. My teacher never mentioned the incident but in Khmer culture, he probably wouldn’t say anything because it would mean that I “lose face.” Losing face occurs when someone publically calls a person out for doing wrong-and I done did wrong!
This was one of the worst moments of my adult life. Just when I reassured myself that I could learn to successfully live in Cambodia, I made a reputation for myself as being the newest flasher in town. The best was telling Jake about the story when he returned from class. His classic response was “Jenn, you gotta be careful.” From that day on I only wear those pants in the house.