BEAUTIFUL DANCE OF KHMER WOMEN

An Apsara dancer strikes an elegant pose

The beautiful young ladies are adorned with gold necklaces, and gold earrings. Gold armbands, and gold bracelets are worn on both wrists and ankles. Gold trim is woven throughout their elegant dresses, colored blue, red or yellow. A bright yellow flower sits over each ear as they dance.

Their headdresses are also gold with studded, circular layers rising above them like a bent Buddhist stupa. Some headdresses look like those seen on topless dancers carved into the walls of the temple of Angkor Wat, that I saw earlier. The dancers on stage before me are all young Khmer women, but the only thing that looks modern about them, is their bright red lipstick.

I'm at the Temple Restaurant in Siem Reap, enjoying an upstairs dinner show. The gold may not be real, but the dance is authentic: this is Apsara. It's unlike any dancing you'll ever see in the west; it has the charm of an Asia that was lost centuries ago.

This ancient art was nearly lost after the communist Khmer Rouge banned it

For those who don't know any better, they might think that these dances and costumes are from old Siam, a.k.a. Thailand. But it's better not to say that to the Khmers. They'll tell you that many centuries ago that the Thais copied them from Khmer dancers of the ancient Angkor kingdom.

The only western dance that looks anything similar to this, is classical ballet. Apsara movements are slow, deliberate, and beautiful. Foreigners quickly notice the women's hands; their thumb and forefinger touch together. The remaining three fingers are pulled back, with each succeeding finger pulled further back. The flexibility of the fingers on these dancers is amazing.

The dancers never smile, keeping their red lips together for the entire performance. Like ballet, their dances and movements tell stories; classical Khmer stories about life and love.

As I watch mesmerized, a traditional Khmer band plays acoustical string instruments, while old style drums keep the beat.

Apsara dancing was often performed for Khmer royalty

Slow and elegant, one dancer balances on only one foot, and pivots around, keeping her other foot elevated. The display of balance and control is amazing. At times this style resembles Hawaiian hula dancing, without the hip movements.

This beautiful Khmer dance tradition was nearly lost from Cambodia forever. When the communist Khmer Rouge took over, Apsara dancing was banned. Nearly all of the master teachers of Apsara were either executed, died from disease, or fled Cambodia.

Later after the radicals were forced from power, a cultural revival began. A few surviving refugee dancers returned to Cambodia. With a princess's support, this traditional dance began to be taught again in Phnom Penh. Slowly but surely, Apsara made a comeback.

Now Apsara is popular once again, and dancers regularly perform for royalty, for Khmer audiences, and for tourists like me. 

Despite all the tragedies that Cambodia has endured, it's good to know that one of their most treasured cultural traditions still survives today. 

RICH WEDDING IN A POOR NEIGHBORHOOD

Weddings are glorious occasions, even for the poor(photo:Wikipedia)

A wedding is always a great way to experience local culture, so when I was invited to a Cambodian wedding, I quickly accepted. Since the groom's family is of limited means, I’m not expecting a fancy wedding. But I will be surprised by what I experience.

I’m told that a 'taxi' is picking me up, but upon arrival, it turns out to be a small motorbike. I should have guessed that, since there are few automobile taxis in Phnom Penh. I climb onto the back seat, and we motor off to the northern suburbs.

The reception is located in a neighborhood where the groom has family, and on arriving, I’m rather surprised at the exact location of the festivities. I was expecting a poor neighborhood, but this is the first time I’ve been to a wedding reception located on a road. Right in the middle of a dirt road!

A wedding canopy with tables and chairs, is taking up most of the roadway. Walking closer, I spot a security guard sitting off to the side, cradling an AK-47 rifle. Hopefully, he won’t have to use it tonight.

The canopy is very colorful, made of bright red and blue fabrics, decorated with balloons. Beneath the canopy are wedding sights familiar to my western eyes. A lovely cake. Fancy tablecloths. An enormous sound system. Golden chair covers, which stretch all the way to the ground. 

Just a few steps from the canopy and tables, are railroad tracks! The train hasn’t run here in years, so curious neighbors not invited to the wedding are sitting on the tracks, in shorts and t-shirts, watching the festivities as spectators. A scratchy stray dog joins them. Beyond the railroad tracks are small neighborhood houses, crowded tightly together. Some of these homes are merely shacks. There is little open space here; that’s one reason why the wedding reception is on a dirt road.

To the other side of the wedding canopy, what’s left of the road is still open to traffic. It’s not busy, but as I watch a motorbike buzzes past, followed by a cart, squeezing through with a load of pigs. Beyond the road is a swampy pond, with old plastic bags and litter lying about.

A Khmer couple takes pre-wedding photos at Angor Wat (photo:Wikipedia)

Glancing around at the well dressed wedding guests is a total contrast to the humble surroundings. What a sight!

The ladies are all done up in marvelous formal dresses. Women’s formal wear in Cambodia is much more colorful, bright and festive looking than western fashions. Each dress is one solid, bright color, and many have elaborately decorated trim. Scanning the crowd, I see many colors of the rainbow. Most guests aren’t rich either, but even poor Khmers usually have one elegant dress for these occasions.

The male guests are dressy, but more conservatively casual. Most wear formal trousers, and a dress shirt. With the evening’s tropical heat and no air conditioning, a suit and tie would be very uncomfortable here.

Entering the canopy, I’m greeted by the wedding party, and the bride is absolutely stunning. She looks like a Khmer princess, or even a queen. Her wedding dress is absolutely fantastic, Tim Gunn would approve. It’s bright blue, with a silver sash, and gold trimming throughout. There is nothing gaudy about her ensemble, it gives an air of royal finery. The bride’s hairstyle is equally fancy. Her coiffure has a reddish tint, pulled up with loops and curls, with a matching hairpiece filling out the back. Her lavish hairstyle must have taken a couple of hours to complete. It’s topped with something that looks like a cross between a tiara and a crown. 

Her two bridesmaids stand next to her attentively, looking like ladies in waiting. Unlike in western weddings, here it’s the bridesmaids wearing white. To the other side of the greeting line, the groom’s outfit is also traditional and fancy. As is true with most cultures, the groom’s wedding garments are not as flashy as those of his beautiful bride. He has a red silk shirt of Asian style, with black trousers. He looks like a young, 19th century Khmer prince. The groomsmen at his side wear similar apparel. The whole wedding party gives me a traditional Khmer Buddhist greeting. (Both hands with palms together in front, with a slight bow.) I'm handed a key chain as a wedding souvenir.

Dinner is a delicious four course meal; Khmer rice, chicken, and beef, all with various Khmer sauces. Dessert is sticky rice, and of course the wedding cake. Following dinner, the happy couple exchange their rings. Then the groom kisses the bride on both cheeks, which results in great howling by the guests. Public displays of affection are rare in Cambodia. Then the two leave to change out of their royal outfits, returning in a white wedding dress, and a white suit and tie, just like in a western wedding.  

The dancing begins, with the sound system blaring Khmer love songs and local pop music. Everyone dances Khmer style, which is different from western dancing to say the least. Khmer dancing is not partner dancing at all, it looks similar to Tai Chi. Their traditional dancing involves slow, rythmic walking movements. Rather than an open dance floor, the group circles around a central table. There is lots of rolling of the wrists with outstretched fingers, and I recall that they look like traditional apsara dancers seen on old temple wall carvings. As the hours go by, the young wedding couple changes outfits again, this time into party dance clothes suitable for clubbing.

Beer and mixed drinks flow through the night. As the hours pass, shirtless children from the adjoining neighborhood dart around the edge of the wedding canopy, collecting the empty beer cans to recycle. I’m struck by the extremes of luxury and poverty I’m seeing, which are packed literally right next to each other. Nobody seems to mind, and neither do I. The wedding couple aren’t rich, but for tonight, they certainly are. For one night only, they have become royalty, and the guests and I have been honored to be their court. This wedding may have been in a very humble neighborhood, but they have truly given me a night to remember.

I’m more impressed tonight, than I was when I visited the royal palace. 

NIGHTLIFE AND DRUG TRADE IN VIENTIANE

Night time on the Mekong riverfront

It's late evening in Vientiane, Laos, and I’ve left the lively bar called 'Bor Pennyang'. Stepping onto the Mekong River front, I hail a tuk-tuk, and follow the main road downriver. We pull into Don Chan Palace, though it isn’t much of a palace, it’s really more of an odd river front hotel. With 14 floors it’s among the tallest buildings in Laos, but for rustic Vientiane it looks rather gaudy. It does however, have the town's best disco.

It’s my first time here, and walking in I find the place dark and crowded, with music pumping. Peering across the crowd, I look for the dance floor. Not seeing one, I walk the entire length of the place. There's no dance floor to be found. This is a disco, but only in the conservative Asian style. Here the patrons dance only next to their tables!

I eventually find a friendly group to hang out with, a mixture of westerners and Laotians. Grabbing a beer, I join the dancing by their table. A Dane with them explains why there's no dance floor. “They don’t understand the concept of a discotheque,” he says. 

Unfotunately for those who enjoy night life, there are strange culture laws that restrict evening entertainment here. This gives Vientiane the reputation as one of the more boring capitals in Southeast Asia.

A recent story in the Vientiane Times, mentioned that the government was closing some discos down. The Director of the Vientiane Information and Culture Department was quoted as saying, “Each district (of the city) should have only one disco.”

The Don Chan 'Palace' in Vientiane

The fun squashing bureaucrat complained of the “overuse of imported music at the expense of local songs.” That ‘overuse’ is evident tonight, since I don’t hear any Laotian music at all. The selection here is mostly pop music from Thailand, with a smattering of western dance tunes. The bureaucrat also complained that according to law, discos must close by 11:30pm. Since I just arrived at Don Chan near to midnight and the party’s going strong, I see the law isn’t enforced here. Varied disco closing times are often connected to corruption.

Eyeing up the clientele, there is not a hint of Laotian attire; everyone wears western clothes for clubbing. Looking around, there are plenty of drunks. Some Asian men of smaller stature, seem to be intent on drinking as much as the larger bodied westerners present.

This is about as crazy as it gets in this town. The wild, ‘anything goes’ bars that Vientiane was known for during the war years, like the 'White Rose' and the 'Green Latrine', are long gone. The only remnant of that tradition here, are a few prostitutes trying to catch the attention of western men. Prostitution exists in Vientiane, but in the more subdued Asian manner. This isn't Thailand, there are no strip clubs in Laos.

I’m less worried about violence here since night life in Vientiane is known as the safest in Southeast Asia. Since Laos is landlocked and without ports, they don’t have to worry about drunken sailors going out looking for trouble. That’s not to say that bar fights don’t occasionally happen though. In between swigs of Beer Lao, an English teacher tells me about a bar fight here a couple weeks ago. “I turned around, and see a foreigner down on the floor,” he says. “This Laotian was beating him with a bottle.”

He stepped in to stop the beating, but not for long, as his Laotian girlfriend pulled him away. Fortunately for him, she recognized the bottle wielder as a Laotian involved in the drug trade, and wisely kept him out of the melee. When the rare beatdown does happen in a Vientiane night spot, it’s often drug related. Vientiane was once known as a place where opium was easier to get than a cold beer. That has flip-flopped, and the drug trade has gone underground. But it does occasionally rear it’s ugly head, such as in this case reported in the Vientiane Times.

“Police arrested a Nigerian man on June 21 in Khualvang Village, Chanthabuly District, Vientiane, after finding him in possession of 900 grammes of heroin, according to the Khomsangoh (security) newspaper yesterday.”

The story went on to report on another sensationalized case, that gained international attention. “British national Samantha Orobator was sentenced to life in prison after being found guilty of possessing 600 grammes of heroin. Ms. Orobator was born in Nigeria, but is now a resident of the UK and has British citizenship.”

A Tuk -Tuk, these are 'taxis' in Vientiane

The story neglected to mention that the young lady became pregnant while in prison. Whether she became pregnant intentionally or not, it helped her case. She was originally given the death penalty for drug trafficking, but pregnant women are exempt from this punishment. In the end, she was extradited to the UK to serve her sentence there.

I continue to dance and chat with my newfound friends, until closing time nears. Some wish to party on, but there are few options for Vientiane’s night owls when discos shut down. “If you want to drink after three a.m. you can only go to the bowling alley,” the knowing Dane tells me. “You can drink there until four or five a.m. It’s the only place open.”

I’m not the type to drink until dawn, so Don Chan is my last stop of the night. I leave the late night revelers, and head for the tuk-tuks.

BAR FIGHT AND SAIGON NIGHT LIFE

A daytime view of the Hotel de Ville, originally built by French colonists

It’s a Friday night, and I leave Godmother's Bar, on my way to meet Chris, another American in town. Leaving the the Pham Ngu Lao tourist neighborhood behind, I cross into a city park. Even in the evening, HCMC is fairly safe. Although theft and corruption are common, violent street crime is a rarity. Culturally, the Vietnamese don’t like confrontations. I’ve only heard of one foreigner mugged in Vietnam, and it happened in the park I'm walking through. The German victim was so drunk, that he could hardly even walk when thieves spotted him. Stumbling drunk through a dark park at 3am is just inviting a mugging.

But tonight, there’s little to worry about, it’s only 9pm; at this hour it's safe enough. I've plenty of company; the park is full of Vietnamese couples. There are few places in Vietnam for romancing pairs to be alone, as single men and women usually live with their parents until marriage. Good Vietnamese women usually don’t go to bars, and most young men have little money to spend on restaurants or movies. Going to a public park is a cheap date. On weekend evenings, the city’s parks are full of couples. Tonight is no different, countless couples are cuddled up together on park benches, occasionally sneaking a kiss in the dark. With all benches taken, late arriving couples sit on the seats of parked motorbikes. Some nights, older couples take over the park’s gazebo. I’ve often seen them ballroom dancing, despite the tropical heat. They don’t need an orchestra; music from a boombox will do.

I recall another night when I walked through this same park, and the park’s occupants weren’t Vietnamese. On that particular evening, every single bench in the park was occupied by a sleeping African. There were more than 40 of them. During that weekend there had been an immigration crackdown. There were a number of Africans in HCMC who had overstayed their tourist visas, and didn’t have enough money to get home. When the police raided their hotel rooms and apartments in another district, they fled to this park to sleep until the raids were over.

Passing Ben Thanh Market I scare a couple of rats, and take a slight detour. I turn down Pasteur Street, named for the famous French doctor, and come to one of the most stunning colonial buildings that still survives. Bathed with bright exterior lighting, is the magnificent Hotel de Ville. More than a century old, it’s now an official government building occupied by the People’s Committee. The Classic French architecture, contrasts with the armed Vietnamese police outside. They sit bored in their security posts, hardly looking as I walk by. I’d love to have a look around inside the grand old building, but I’m not allowed in. Since it’s no longer a hotel, it’s closed to outsiders. Ah, if these walls could talk…

Looking up, a Vietnamese flag flies high above the old hotel’s center tower. In a slap in the face to the French, the Vietnamese installed a statue of old Ho Chi Minh sitting in the park right out front, reminding them just who it was that bested the colonials. Floodlights light up the entire front façade every night. As I walk past admiring the scene, I notice that all over the yellow painted exterior, there are… lizards! Small gecko lizards, all over the walls. The lighting attracts insects, which in turn attract the lizards. I give up counting them after I pass 100. Back in its heyday, this hotel hosted governors, presidents, and the rich and famous. Now, the only thing living here are little reptiles looking for an easy meal.

Entrance to Apocalypse Now, from asia-bars.com

Returning to the main boulevard, I continue on to my evening destination, a disco. In a country that seeks to forget the war, one of the most popular nightspots in town is called, “Apocalypse Now”. Taking its name from the intense Francis Ford Coppola war movie, this strangely themed place opened in the 1990’s when the city’s nightlife was more liberal than now. If you’ve seen the movie and thought it was rather bizarre, well, so is this place. The décor is dark and dramatic. Spherical white light fixtures are painted red, giving the appearance that blood is dripping down them.

On the wall, a surfboard is painted with that famous line from the movie, “Charlie Don’t Surf.” Upstairs the bar is made of sandbags, much like a military bunker. Old US made army helmets from the war have been turned into more light fixtures. The wall's top is lined with barbed wire.

Despite the drinking and partying, the club isn’t as wild as you’d expect. There's some hugging and kissing among the patrons, but not near as much as in clubs in America. On the dance floor, there is far less hip grinding and suggestive dancing. One of the contradictions of Asia, is that sexy dancing, or public displays of affection aren’t considered acceptable. Partying is done in a more conservative manner; there are no go-go dancers here. The government doesn’t want HCMC to turn into another Bangkok.

Prostitution unfortunately, is part of Vietnamese culture. As in many bars in poor countries, some ladies present are prostitutes. Others are Vietnamese ladies hoping to find a western husband. I ignore the advances of a pair of working ladies, and make my way through the crowd to my buddy Chris at the bar. He’s a business consultant in town for a few weeks. As I order a Tiger beer, he tells me about his last weekend, at a karaoke place with a big group of colleagues. He enjoyed the evening, but the next day he had one of the worst hangovers of his life. He couldn’t understand why, since he didn’t drink heavily. I ask what he was  drinking.

“We had three bottles of Johnny Walker Black,” he answered. “We bought the expensive stuff. The first bottle tasted ok, but the second and third bottles tasted a lot different.”

What he didn’t know, was that the first bottle was genuine Johnny Walker Whiskey, and the other bottles were counterfeit liquor. The karaoke workers figured they were drunk enough after the first bottle not to notice the difference! Their 2nd and 3rd bottles of premium imported $100 whiskey, were actually only cheap moonshine. It's a common scam. Johnny Walker Black is supposed to be 12 years old; that’s why it has the darker color. For booze counterfeiters, that’s nothing a little water coloring can’t fix.

Some time later, there's a commotion by the bar. I turn just in time to see a bar stool sailing into the crowd near me, flung by an angry Chinese drinker. The Vietnamese woman he was aiming for responded with her own weapon; she took off her shoe and counter-attacked with her high heel! Her girlfriend also jumped into the fray. In the melee that ensued, the group was gradually pulled apart by black shirted security. Fortunately no one was seriously hurt. Since I’m an American, a bar fight is nothing new. America is probably the world capital of bar fights, and although I’ve broken up a few brawls, I’ve managed to never get attacked myself. US bar fights are usually one on one fistfights between belligerent drunkards. The fracas usually lasts only a few seconds, until bouncers charge in and shove the combatants out the door.

Bar fights in Asia however, are altogether different. As noted from the previous instance, Vietnamese rarely use their fists, and will attack with whatever weapon they can find. In bars, you'd think that their first weapon on hand would be a beer bottle, but they always reach for something else. I once saw a Vietnamese drunkard try and club his opponent with a motorcycle helmet. When Asians go to bars, they go out in groups. In the same manner, when they fight, they never fight alone. Like the woman with her high heel, I once saw a group of Vietnamese remove their shoes, men and women, and fling them all at a belligerent foreigner on the street. Apparently Iraqis aren’t the only ones who throw shoes at their enemies.

Fortunately, bar fights in Vietnam are much less frequent than in the states, since Asians are generally less prone to violent outbursts than Americans. (Surprising, given Asia’s violent history.) But when a bar fight does happen in Vietnam, watch out for those flying bar stools. Or shoes.

With the battle royale over, the excitement in the club dies down, and the crowd gradually thins out. As Apocalypse Now closes, patrons weave towards the exits. As the lights go up, the last song played was that memorable 60's tune from the Doors: “The End". Jim Morrison would have felt right at home here.