Sit-play

Mao, ankoie leng. Literally, ‘Come, sit-play.’ More accurately, this might be translated as ‘Why don’t you hang out and chill with me for a while?’ One of the wonderful things about Cambodia (and India, too) is that nothing is ever so pressing that it can’t wait for a bit, and even if the hours are long, work is hardly ever a solitary thing. There is always a friend to keep you company. In India, even the hairdressers who hung a mirror on a tree and put a chair on the sidewalk always had a buddy or two just hanging out with them. Ankoie lenging is an important part of life here, and not only for people who you’re already friends with. When a sudden downpour hits, you can stop at the nearest vendor’s stall/gas station/moto repair hut. You will undoubtedly be presented with some plastic chairs and invited to ankoie leng. Buying something from someone at the market? Mao, ankoie leng! And if you’re the strange new foreigner in town, you will undoubtedly be invited to ankoie leng well...everywhere.

For me, ankoie lenging sounds unappealing. Hey Kaitlin, want to go to a party with a bunch of people you don’t know and try to make small talk? It wouldn’t be my first choice. How about doing that AND trying to think of things to say in a language you can only speak a little bit? Umm...are there other options?
Today, I was off from school for the afternoon, so I decided to finally go take a piece of cloth I bought last week to be tailored into a teaching skirt. Since I was only going a few hundred yards, I decided to walk for a change. As it turns out, riding my bike around has been keeping me fairly isolated outside of school. On the way back from the tailor’s shop, I was invited to stop and ankoie leng at:
- the road-side stand where we eat dessert every night, where I chatted with my dessert ming and her three customers
- the beer shop where the son has been saying hello to me every time I ride by, where I was presented with a free coke and spent almost an hour chatting with the mom
- the market stall with grilled bananas, where I eventually was talking to a group of about 10 different vendors who came to ask questions of the foreigner and
- my neighbors’ house where one of the teachers at my school lives and where I also chatted with some of my students buying books from the book stall there.

I survived them all. I may have even enjoyed myself. Lucky, since I sense there may be more ankoie lenging in my future.