Nose picking, table sitting and crop tops: Manners and fashions in Cambodia

Cambodians have manners. Cambodian manners are just different than American manners. Way different. Nose picking, for example, is acceptable in Cambodia.

Khmer men (mostly the young dudes) go to great lengths to simplify the booger hunt. Or rather, their nails go to great lengths. Not all their nails — that would be gross. Only one nail — a pinky of course! And sometimes a bonus thumbnail.

When I ask what’s with the girly nails, the possessor is usually silent. He says he can't explain why

his nails are so long, they just are. After further questioning, however, he often points to his nostrils and ear canals and talks about peeling fruit.

My more hygienic host brother claims he doesn't use his two talons for such vulgar purposes. He simply uses the long nails to clean his other, shorter, nails. Of course!

Despite the multiple functions of the overgrown hunks of keratin that seem to live on the hands of every young Cambodian man, I've yet to see a long pinky or thumbnail in action. I should start asking for demonstrations.

Nose and ear picking are just two examples of good Khmer manners. Other examples:

Burping and farting. Mostly heard erupting from men. At dinner tables. No apologies. But women sometimes produce toned-down versions. Again, with no apologies.

Speaking of dinner tables, Khmer people sit on theirs. None of that sitting on chairs nancy-pansy stuff. Good old-fashioned cross-legged Indian style. (And by Indian, I mean American Indian, so not Indian at all. Is Native American still the PC term?)

Or if you wear a sarong like most Cambodian women, table-sitting is done with one leg curled Native-American style and the other bent at the knee with the sole of the foot flat on the table. Cross-legged doesn’t work so well when your legs are bound to each other by a long piece of decorative cloth.

Native-American style also doesn’t work too well — or for too long — if you’re an inflexible Emily. I sit however my giraffe legs feel like bending, and then shift positions once my violin-string muscles start screeching.

My inflexibility created a dinner-sitting revolution at my former host family’s house. My host parents gave me a plastic chair. And, to prevent me from being the only one left out of the cross-legged fun, my host parents gave my host sister her own plastic chair. My host sister was pregnant, so a chair was probably also easier for her and her stomachful of baby.

Aside from fidgeting, at the dinner table I also do a lot of reaching into my mouth and spitting out of food. I know both practices are heathenly, but they are also unavoidable in Cambodia — the land of bone-riddled meat.

With its vast collection of bones, chicken is perhaps the most difficult meat to eat in Cambodia. America’s D-cup chicken breasts don’t exist in this country. The chickens here are scrawny, often featherless creatures, with only a thin coat of flesh covering their skeletons.

The bones in chickens aren’t all small, but I have better things to do than spend half an hour detaching a sliver of meat from a bone. Bony hassles have caused me to (mostly) give up eating chicken in Cambodia.

Fish also have a lot of bones, and none of these bones are removed before making it to the breakfast, lunch or dinner tables. (Cambodians eat a lot of fish.) But give up fish? Never! I mostly ignore fish bones, choosing to simply crush them with my teeth and swallow, like the dogs and cats that eat our table scraps. This method results in occasional gum piercings, but who needs healthy gums?

Wusses who don’t eat bones spit or throw them out. My former host family spit and threw bones on the ground, leaving the tasty gifts for the chickens and dogs. My current host family is a bit more civilized about its deboning. My host parents and siblings set bones neatly on the dinner tray for later inclusion in the supper bowl for the cats and dogs.

During lunch with the orphans, bones are discarded on the table. They make nice decorations, and when placed on the table's edge, are in a convenient pickup location for the dogs that haunt the cafeteria for handouts.

Answering phones. In Cambodia, it's rude not to answer your cell phone. Eleven consecutive calls from my former host sister helped teach me this lesson. I didn't answer because I was teaching. In America, turning my attention from my students to chat on a hunk of plastic would be rude. In Cambodia, it's expected.

Phones aren't turned off during teaching or meetings of any kind. I've seen many a fancy-pants official chat on his phone from the front of an auditorium — during a conference where he is a featured speaker.

Like Americans, Cambodians consider some manners bad. Some examples:

Picking teeth. Not polite. Unless done with a toothpick shielded by a hand in front of the mouth. Then, pick away.

This hand-over-mouth thing is also common when talking, and most frustrating when this talking is in English class. Why the mouth shielding? Most — OK, many — Khmer people have filthy, crooked teeth, so that can't be the reason for concealment. So is it bad breath? A mouth full of food? Whatever the motivator, an invisible muffle mouth doesn’t help ease cross-cultural communication.

Pointing soles of feet toward people. This is a big no-no, especially when monks or Buddha are concerned. Don’t do it! I get scolded whenever my size-13 boats creep too close to the dinner platter. But that scolding is probably about good hygiene, not Buddha.

Women showing their knees, boobs or shoulders. Most Khmer women cover these body parts, and women Peace Corps volunteers were told to do the same. I follow this guideline, but my exhibitionist knees like to expose themselves on bike rides. My teaching skirts and the wind aid and abet this knobby-knee crime.

I haven’t heard (or understood) any complaints about indecent knee sightings other than the usual siren calls of “Barang! Barang!” (Literally, barang means French. Loosely, it means white foreigner.) But before a recent bike ride, a Khmer woman friend imparted a few cautionary words about skirt-biking.

Khmer friend: “You’re wearing that skirt? On your bicycle?”

Me: “Yeah. Why?”

Khmer friend: “Khmer women wouldn’t do that.”

Me: “Why?”

Khmer friend: “We’d be afraid that boys would see us.”

Me: “I’m a six-foot white girl in Cambodia wearing a bike helmet and safety glasses atop a Western bike. I think boys will see me, regardless of my knees.”

OK, I didn’t say that last part. I probably just growled that I don’t care if boys see my bleached knees. Besides, my knees are hardly the only fashion rule breakers out there. I've seen Cambodian girls attend weddings in butt-length dresses. I've also seen Khmer girls parade down the streets in shorty shorts, and not just in the lawless Phnom Penh.

Speaking of acceptable fashion, in Cambodia, it’s the men who wear the crop tops. These stomach-exposing shirts aren't specifically manufactured for men. They are mostly a do-it-yourself creation. This once-popular U.S. style comes out when it’s hot, which is pretty much all the time in Cambodia.

How to make a crop top:

Step one: Fold your shirt under to sit just below your bra, or where your bra would be if you were wearing one.

Step two: Place hands on hips and strut. Or just stand still.

Step three: Enjoy the wind tickling your abdomen hairs.

Step four: Repeat steps one through three as necessary.

This DIY fashion can be created using any kind of shirt, whether made for the classroom or for playing volleyball with the boys.

Another hot men’s fashion in Cambodia: mole hair! Yep, that's right, mole hair. As in hair growing out of moles. This fashion accessory is hottest when on the face. The longer and curlier the hair, the better.

My co-teacher has a nice-looking hairy mole on his cheek. But I think the hairiest-mole award goes to the mayor of my town. The dark locks sprouting from his cheek mole are so long and luscious that he must condition.

A hairy-mole-less (how do you punctuate that?) Khmer man told me that he wishes he had a hairy mole. Why? Hairy moles are charming, a Khmer woman told me. Too bad I’m not a Khmer man. My body is littered with moles. Regrettably, few of my moles are noticeably hairy, and none of my hairy moles live on my face. Damn. There goes my hairy-mole-farm moneymaker. Rogaine?

Cambodian verbal manners: Bluntness

Cambodians like to tell me about their gentle nature. “That's why we dance so slow," they say. Despite this gentle nature, Cambodians can be extraordinarily blunt.

I was warned about this potential rudeness during Peace Corps training. I heard stories of host families telling volunteers they are fat, ugly and stupid. And these families continuing on to tell these volunteers that they are fatter and less beautiful than their host sisters and brothers.

I heard these stories, but I didn’t think these stories would become my stories. I was wrong. The bluntness started out as compliments. I was so tall and beautiful, my skin so white and strokeable. The insults (that I understood) didn’t start until three months in, when I moved to my second home in Cambodia.

“You look fat today,” a teacher at school told me. “You look fatter than before,” another Cambodian told me. Rude, right? Not in Cambodia. Cambodians insist that fat is good. Fatness means you have enough money to buy food.

Nice line, but I don’t buy it. I think fat is bad here, as it is in America. Except perhaps Cambodians don't hate and scorn blubber to the same extent as in the Land of the Free and the Home of the Brave.

My fat hasn’t been the only victim of Cambodian bluntness. My overall looks have also been verbally assaulted. I'm less beautiful than the stranger’s daughter in the photograph. My looks aren’t as nice as my sister's in the family picture at Niagara Falls. “Your sister is more beautifuler than you,” my 12th grade student tells me.

I would be beautiful, one of my fellow teachers tells me and a group of teachers, if I didn’t wear glasses. Without glasses I may be more beautiful, but I'd also be blind or, according to Peace Corps, have a massive eye infection from my dust and bacteria-coated contacts.

Cambodian bluntness isn’t just targeted at me. It’s for everyone! One of my 12th-grade students asked me who I thought was more beautiful — his girlfriend or his sister — in front of both of the girls in question. I diplomatically answered that both the girls were equally beautiful. He responded by saying he thinks his girlfriend is more beautiful. I guess that’s better than choosing her sister. The ugly sister didn't respond.

My host mom has also been the target of bluntness — harsh bluntness — from her husband, my host dad. She was wearing an especially fetching outfit one night. I told her she was beautiful. “No she’s not,” her husband said. “She’s fat and short.” (He said this in Khmer.) My host mom’s response? Laughter.

The longer I stay in Cambodia, the more often laughter becomes my response, too.

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