Being Looked After Well

I really am spoilt! I have a wonderful cleaning lady who comes three days a week to help me keep my house free from dust, wash my clothes and help teach me cook Khmer! She is also very willing to take me to the market to buy my food with me which is nice to do every so often as I seem to get cheaper prices when I go with her. I was very clear at the start of this arrangement (she is the landlord’s sister-in-law and I barely had a choice in employing her services by the way) that she was to work only three days a week and made sure she understood that I am used to being independent and like to have my own space and might do things in a strange ‘foreign’ way. The problem is she can’t help but try and look after me and is now being too kind!

She (like most of the inhabitants of the district) is always very interested in what I have eaten or will eat and what I buy at the market when without her. I think she (like most of the inhabitants of the district) can’t even consider not eating rice three times a day and cannot fathom that a bread roll sandwich and some fruit can constitute a meal. She (like most of the inhabitants of the district) also thinks that I must be starving when I get home from work.
This week has proved to be my most frustrating to date. After eating a lot of rice, noodles and fried food, I am actually starting to crave some rather bland English sort of food. I never thought the day would come when I would be aching for some simple boiled cabbage or a plain omelette but that day arrived this week. So on one of the days when Ree does not work, I went and bought the ingredients to make a very simple omelette (minus the cheese). Intrigued by what I might make with two duck eggs, a tomato and onion, Ree followed me upstairs. As I chopped and washed the veggies I tried to explain that I was making some English food today. There was a tut from Ree’s lips and the knife was swiftly taken out of my hand and the veggies chopped the ‘right’ way (I was doing it all wrong!). She then continued to fry the egg, tomato and onion in about an inch of oil, adding lots of salt, MSG, sugar and oyster sauce. So much for a bland, oil-free meal. The dish she concocted was delicious by he way and she only acts in absolute kindness as she thinks I am incapable of making food for myself – a belief I want to change as soon as possible.

Food is very important to the Khmers and I have received many gifts of food which I’ve had to deal with accordingly. I have received a big bag of rice this week from a lady at work which was still warm and fresh from the rice mill when she gave it to me – what a treat! I now have enough that if I was in the UK it would probably last me for more than 5 years. I have also had dried fish given to me wrapped in newspaper (which was really nice fried) and a red sausage (which was also really really tasty but I absolutely dread to think about what is in it). The other ‘dish’ I keep being presented with is a less appealing bowl of grey liquid – a little bit like tapioca? – with bananas lurking in the bottom. Twice this has been presented to me, once I had to squash it down the sink, second time I was with company so forced to eat it – yuk!