Chasing Fame and an Indian Visa

Hello all and here are some recent updates:

As some of you avid facebook users may already know, the most exciting thing to happen of late is that Charlsea and I were tapped to audition for a Cambodian beer commercial through Charlsea's new Khmer tutor, whose day job at an ad agency occasionally requires her to round up foreigners from around the city to pose as scientists, volleyball players, skateboarders, and any other personalities they think foreigners might embody convincingly. Of course all of these roles require enjoying a nice cold (insert Cambodian beer client here), so I guess our end result will be something like a lab technician with a vial of blood in one hand and a brewsky in the other, which is only believable, it seems, if that lab technician is a skinny white guy with a beard (which they're still looking for, by the way, if anyone's interested). As far as my role, I myself am envisioning some kind of beach volleyball scene, for which travel to Fiji and a generous per diem will most likely be required. For now, though, they're still in the early stages, shanghaing barangs (can you guess?) wherever they can find them, transporting them to an unmarked building somewhere in Phnom Penh and taking pictures with a 12 year old digital camera that they borrowed from someone's little brother (I suggested the audition would be more useful if we were allowed to demonstrate our beer-drinking techniques with a live performance, but received only giggles in response). The whole thing was wildly professional and I feel confident that my beer modeling career is about to take off. I will keep you posted but you'll probably see me on TV before I have a chance to write again anyway.

In other news, I've been planning a trip to India for the last few weeks and have finally gotten to the stage where I have to interact with Indians, and let me tell you, it has not been going well. First was the trip to the Indian Embassy, located in the middle of nowhere, Phnom Penh, where to obtain a visa you must present not only your passport and endless forms and extortionist fees, but also a photocopy of your passport for good measure. Why, you ask, would they need a photocopy when they a) have the real thing and b) very likely have access to a photocopy machine themselves? Well, why not. And you'd think if they were going to have that bizarre policy wherein they require you to bring your own copies, they might have thought of offering a copy service right there in the office to make a little extra chump change off all of us chumps. But no--we had to go out walking to look for one, and since we were in the middle of nowhere as mentioned above, you can probably guess that there were not a whole lot of photocopy shops set up to receive us. Charlsea and I must have walked a full mile down a hot dusty road lined with pretty much nothing, until we came to a gas station and decided to scrap the embassy thing and sit in the air conditioned mini mart eating chips and ice cream for breakfast. So all in all I guess it was still a successful outing.

Anyway we went back a few days later with photocopies galore, only to meet with the same surly official who had sent us on a wild photocopy chase the last time, and lo and behold he had another trick up his sleeve. On no grounds whatsoever he decided to deny us the 1 year multiple entry visa that you're supposed to be able to get even if you're Osama, and gave us a measly two month single entry instead. Blast him. This means I can't go to Delhi again in February to house/dog sit in a mansion with Dana...but then maybe that's for the best, given that I do, technically, have a job to be doing here (more on that later, really, I promise).

And then third strike against India is this: I bought a domestic ticket from Bagdogra in the north back to Delhi on an Indian travel website, and, after a little maneuvering with the credit card verification system, finally received that wonderfully thrilling "Trip Confirmed" email that always makes my world go round. Things were looking good. Today, however, things have ceased to be looking good. I got a follow up email saying, "Thank you for canceling your flight. You will receive your partial refund within 3-14 business days." This might make sense had I actually canceld my flight, but I assure you, I had not. And upon spending all my phone credit calling the customer service center in India to complain, all I learned was that my best bet would be to send an email to customer service.....with whom I was already speaking. If this is a sign of things to come, I think I may just do some extra beer commercials on Fijian beaches and leave India to wallow in its own bureaucratic misery.

Lastly, as I see this email is fast becoming a Homerian epic, I wanted to tell you all a little bit about the Water Festival which was held here in Phnom Penh this past weekend. The festival celebrates some confusing tidal behavior that takes place at the end of the rainy season, involving a river suddenly turning around and flowing in the opposite direction, a process which remains completely baffling to me and probably everyone else even if they won't admit it.

Anyway all the people from the provinces come in to town to wander about, experience the joys of an escalator, and cheer at the boat races, which they have to watch from the street or the riverbank but which foreigners watch from a plush yellow tent right at the finish line, cordoned off with police tape and a metal detector and numerous signs warning "Tourist Only Zone." Talk about uncomfortable preferential treatment--very double hawk. We spent most of our time instead trying to be part of a team huddle or receive a racing T-shirt off the back of some adoring young Khmer man. No luck there but I think we came close.

And your moment of cross cultural zen: the last ice cream I ate came in a fancy package with a sophisticated logo and the following label: "Ais Kreeme". Needless to say it was delicious.

This weekend I go to Singapore. Stay tuned.