At this time of year, in Cambodia’s dry season, there are a phenomenal number of weddings, as well as the usual funerals. The celebrations and memorials begin before sun break and continue long after the sun has set and all amplifiers are set to 11. Finding any respite from the over modulated music and speeches can be difficult, if not impossible.
For us, the onslaught of noise has reached breaking point. The well of cross-cultural understanding has run dry. Our heads have reached mega Tylenol-ingesting proportions. Our tempers are very short. We can’t find a haven of solitude in this town; everywhere we turn is noise. We come up with new phrases of blasphemy. We hope for a major power outage coupled with the malfunctioning of all generators. We would commit ourselves to a cell in a white padded room, but they would probably play really loud music there.