07-26-2024, 01:58 PM
I always blog when travelleing. This was my thought one night in Cambodia a few weeks back. Sorry for the length... but I would be curious to hear anyone else's opinion.
After doing a bit of shopping, browsing around the night market, Mr. Chun asked if I wanted to get dinner or just go back to the hotel. I opted for the hotel. It had been a long day, and I figured having this guy at my beck and call for 11 hours was plenty. So, we made the slow drive through town and he dropped me off, arranging to pick me up early in the morning for my flight back to Bangkok.
I’d eaten dinner at the hotel the night before and figured it was decent enough. Once again, it was about 9:00pm and I was the only one in the restaurant. The same woman was there to take my order. She was a slim, demure, fairly attractive woman of maybe 27. The previous night I felt slightly awkward as she simply watched me while I ate. I would look over at her occasionally and she would simply smile.
Tonight, she engaged me in some conversation, asking where I was from, how long I was staying, et cetera. I asked her about herself and she told me about her life and interests. I could tell she was very happy to get to talk about herself, or that anyone had shown any interest in her life. It’s something I’ve seen in a lot of my travels, where these people in hotels or cafes or places people just pass through go on and on about their lives and travels and home countries and then vanish, never really engaging with the very people they are depending on for their food and housing along their journeys.
I could sense the loneliness reflected in her eyes. There was a longing in her gaze that I’d also seen many times before. It was as if she was looking at me and projecting all her fantasies of a good life or what could be. I know this may sound totally presumptuous, but I’m not saying this egotistically at all. I’ve experienced this far too many times for it to be just bloated self-aggrandizement on my part.
I almost had the sense that if I had taken her hand and asked her to marry me right there on the spot, although she might be shocked, she wouldn’t refuse. After all, what else was going to happen in this budget hotel in this small corner of a little, dusty town in the middle of Cambodia? America is very different in this respect. Beautiful, nice women don’t usually work in flea bag hotels or McDonald’s or scrubbing toilets. I know that is a wide generalization, but I think it holds true. Beauty is a commodity in America, and women have lived off of it for generations.
I’m not suggesting poor people don’t recognize physical beauty, but what does having a beautiful wife get you in a poverty-stricken region of the world? In America, it can be turned into a status thing, yet another symbol of success; it can be another prop in the never-ending pursuit of boosting the fragile Western ego. Look at the streets of Bangkok for more than five minutes and you’re bound to see an old white guy with a beautiful Thai woman half his age on his arm. And it’s certainly not just Bangkok; you’ll see it all over Southeast Asia.
I didn’t find that at all in India, which is, overall, every bit as poor, if not poorer. Beauty takes a backseat to the strict cultural guidelines that most relationships still follow in India. It’s not that they don’t recognize and appreciate physical beauty, but I observed more of a sense that it was your duty to find the beauty in your wife, not to find a beautiful wife. Again, a broad generalization, and I could be totally off base here, but that’s how I’ve interpreted my observations.
And, as a guy, I can admit the attractiveness of parts of this situation. It’s not just the factor of youth and beauty, but the simplicity that is also found here. I mean, if you have money – and I’m not talking filthy rich, just are able to provide a good life – and treat a woman as if she’s a cherished prize… well, that’s a pretty good option for a girl who comes from a poor, rural village. Add in the fact that you can help out her family, which is so often a major concern in Asian cultures, and it’s an offer that is very difficult to refuse. So, the tables are reversed from the general notion that in the West, a beautiful woman has her choice of many suitors. Here, white men have a seemingly endless pool of beautiful women to choose from.
So, back to my dinner and talking to the beautiful server (whose name I’ve embarrassingly forgotten), I really get a sense of desperation that it heartbreaking. I mean, if she could assess me in the same way that someone from our culture would, my attractiveness would plummet immediately. There’s a reason I’m 37 and have never been married. And there’s a reason I’m in the middle of Cambodia, alone, by choice. But it’s funny how these things are relative. If a beautiful Western woman is looking for the good life, I have nothing to offer. To a poor Cambodian woman, I can offer more than she could ever hope for. And that is a strange and powerful feeling. I can easily understand the lure of that and why you do see so many old white men, or young white men, coming to this part of the world in search of a wife or girlfriend.
Someone also pointed out to me that what we white Westerners consider attractive features may seem quite plain in that woman’s home country. This can also be related to the supply and demand factor. In a place where 80 percent of women are skinny or slender, maybe it is not such a sought-after quality, whereas, in America, if a person were to believe the media, people are obsessed with thinness. That whole notion strikes me as a bit odd, though, because if so many people are obsessed with thinness and so many people are obese… there’s a major disconnect happening somewhere.
So, again, back to that Cambodian girl and my dinner, I found myself, too, envisioning what our life might be like. I’d fallen for Asian girls before in this situation. It’s one of my major weak spots – the beautiful, simple girl to whom I could be a knight in shining armor. Again, it’s an odd feeling, coming from a place where people seem to be in a perpetual state of wanting more – better car, fancier house, bigger TV, they want to be thinner, they want to be younger. Americans are constantly bombarded with the notion that how things are is undesirable. It’s become how companies sell things. They’ve created an endless supply of problems for which their product offers the solution.
The simplicity in this part of the world is enticing. I always feel like a great weight has been lifted off my shoulders. I suddenly realize how tired and worn down I’ve become from being shoved onto a hamster wheel every day. The idea of quitting the rat race entirely and living a more simple life gets more and more attractive as I get older. I feel the pull and the tug all the time. And maybe one day soon, I’ll do just that. For now, though, I pass through the eyes of loneliness like a ghost, onto the next destination.
After doing a bit of shopping, browsing around the night market, Mr. Chun asked if I wanted to get dinner or just go back to the hotel. I opted for the hotel. It had been a long day, and I figured having this guy at my beck and call for 11 hours was plenty. So, we made the slow drive through town and he dropped me off, arranging to pick me up early in the morning for my flight back to Bangkok.
I’d eaten dinner at the hotel the night before and figured it was decent enough. Once again, it was about 9:00pm and I was the only one in the restaurant. The same woman was there to take my order. She was a slim, demure, fairly attractive woman of maybe 27. The previous night I felt slightly awkward as she simply watched me while I ate. I would look over at her occasionally and she would simply smile.
Tonight, she engaged me in some conversation, asking where I was from, how long I was staying, et cetera. I asked her about herself and she told me about her life and interests. I could tell she was very happy to get to talk about herself, or that anyone had shown any interest in her life. It’s something I’ve seen in a lot of my travels, where these people in hotels or cafes or places people just pass through go on and on about their lives and travels and home countries and then vanish, never really engaging with the very people they are depending on for their food and housing along their journeys.
I could sense the loneliness reflected in her eyes. There was a longing in her gaze that I’d also seen many times before. It was as if she was looking at me and projecting all her fantasies of a good life or what could be. I know this may sound totally presumptuous, but I’m not saying this egotistically at all. I’ve experienced this far too many times for it to be just bloated self-aggrandizement on my part.
I almost had the sense that if I had taken her hand and asked her to marry me right there on the spot, although she might be shocked, she wouldn’t refuse. After all, what else was going to happen in this budget hotel in this small corner of a little, dusty town in the middle of Cambodia? America is very different in this respect. Beautiful, nice women don’t usually work in flea bag hotels or McDonald’s or scrubbing toilets. I know that is a wide generalization, but I think it holds true. Beauty is a commodity in America, and women have lived off of it for generations.
I’m not suggesting poor people don’t recognize physical beauty, but what does having a beautiful wife get you in a poverty-stricken region of the world? In America, it can be turned into a status thing, yet another symbol of success; it can be another prop in the never-ending pursuit of boosting the fragile Western ego. Look at the streets of Bangkok for more than five minutes and you’re bound to see an old white guy with a beautiful Thai woman half his age on his arm. And it’s certainly not just Bangkok; you’ll see it all over Southeast Asia.
I didn’t find that at all in India, which is, overall, every bit as poor, if not poorer. Beauty takes a backseat to the strict cultural guidelines that most relationships still follow in India. It’s not that they don’t recognize and appreciate physical beauty, but I observed more of a sense that it was your duty to find the beauty in your wife, not to find a beautiful wife. Again, a broad generalization, and I could be totally off base here, but that’s how I’ve interpreted my observations.
And, as a guy, I can admit the attractiveness of parts of this situation. It’s not just the factor of youth and beauty, but the simplicity that is also found here. I mean, if you have money – and I’m not talking filthy rich, just are able to provide a good life – and treat a woman as if she’s a cherished prize… well, that’s a pretty good option for a girl who comes from a poor, rural village. Add in the fact that you can help out her family, which is so often a major concern in Asian cultures, and it’s an offer that is very difficult to refuse. So, the tables are reversed from the general notion that in the West, a beautiful woman has her choice of many suitors. Here, white men have a seemingly endless pool of beautiful women to choose from.
So, back to my dinner and talking to the beautiful server (whose name I’ve embarrassingly forgotten), I really get a sense of desperation that it heartbreaking. I mean, if she could assess me in the same way that someone from our culture would, my attractiveness would plummet immediately. There’s a reason I’m 37 and have never been married. And there’s a reason I’m in the middle of Cambodia, alone, by choice. But it’s funny how these things are relative. If a beautiful Western woman is looking for the good life, I have nothing to offer. To a poor Cambodian woman, I can offer more than she could ever hope for. And that is a strange and powerful feeling. I can easily understand the lure of that and why you do see so many old white men, or young white men, coming to this part of the world in search of a wife or girlfriend.
Someone also pointed out to me that what we white Westerners consider attractive features may seem quite plain in that woman’s home country. This can also be related to the supply and demand factor. In a place where 80 percent of women are skinny or slender, maybe it is not such a sought-after quality, whereas, in America, if a person were to believe the media, people are obsessed with thinness. That whole notion strikes me as a bit odd, though, because if so many people are obsessed with thinness and so many people are obese… there’s a major disconnect happening somewhere.
So, again, back to that Cambodian girl and my dinner, I found myself, too, envisioning what our life might be like. I’d fallen for Asian girls before in this situation. It’s one of my major weak spots – the beautiful, simple girl to whom I could be a knight in shining armor. Again, it’s an odd feeling, coming from a place where people seem to be in a perpetual state of wanting more – better car, fancier house, bigger TV, they want to be thinner, they want to be younger. Americans are constantly bombarded with the notion that how things are is undesirable. It’s become how companies sell things. They’ve created an endless supply of problems for which their product offers the solution.
The simplicity in this part of the world is enticing. I always feel like a great weight has been lifted off my shoulders. I suddenly realize how tired and worn down I’ve become from being shoved onto a hamster wheel every day. The idea of quitting the rat race entirely and living a more simple life gets more and more attractive as I get older. I feel the pull and the tug all the time. And maybe one day soon, I’ll do just that. For now, though, I pass through the eyes of loneliness like a ghost, onto the next destination.