Culture shock

The most fun – and the most risky – part of running off to somewhere completely foreign has to be the colourful clash of cultures: the completely normal, unthought-about things I’m going to do which suddenly become rude or downright dangerous in the context of this strange land.

Now I’m no expert on Cambodia after a week or two, but I’ve already come across a few classics.
Is it good or bad, for example, to ask someone on the street where they are going? (good of course); to beckon with the palm up or down? (down you imbecile!).

And how would you know that traffic lights – and even the direction of roundabouts – are ‘merely suggestions’. Ignoring them doesn't seem to be a serious traffic offense, nor is driving at night without lights or even when drunk - but woe betide you if you commit the heinous crime of using front lights during the daytime. How are you meant to work that one out?

More intuitive to me is the pleasing notion here that the body flows from its most holy at the head to its most base at the feet. But would you have realised this means that it's seriously poor form to give a child a kindly pat on the head, and a major faux pas to reveal the soles of your feet to a monk?

My greatest worry so far is that it is impolite – not to mention seriously suggestive – to look a Cambodian woman in the eye. I suspect it’s more subtle that that, perhaps the delicate distinction between timely eye-lowering rather than a marginally overextended gaze, but the potential consequences of getting it wrong sure scare the monkeys out of me.

Such schoolboy errors could land a chap in serious hot water, not to mention a wedding band. Not that marrige ceremonies aren't great repositories for a country’s traditions - I’d love to see some here.

It could cost me though. For starters I’d need to get a new outfit, which would naturally be in anything but white (not for fear of clashing with the bride you’ll understand, but to avoid dressing in their colour of mourning). And then there’s the cash - to be returned to the happy couple in the invitation envelope. Whether or not I choose to attend. Now there’s a potential minefield.

And I haven’t even started to learn the language yet, so who knows what will be lost in translation? Though by my loose choice of metaphor at the end of the last paragraph I need to learn to select my words a little more carefully from now on.