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Posted from Phnom Penh, Cambodia at 10:42 PM local timeA Bloody Good Holiday...Although I hesitate to admit this, I gave blood today for the first time in my life. Thirty-one years of age and - despite helping at blood drawings in high school - somehow, I myself had never given blood. (I always had athletic events coinciding with the drawings in school. Beyond high school I have no excuse - I just didn't think or make time to do it.) I have thought of it on occasion recently, more than once while traveling in Asia. But I never actually followed through until today, in Cambodia, at the Kantha Bopha Blood Bank here in Phnom Penh. I will never visit this country again without giving blood. As mentioned in my previous entry describing Beatocello and the Kantha Bopha Hospital, Cambodia is a place in dire need of blood - clean blood. With HIV, hepatitis, syphilis, and other blood-borne pathogens marring far too much of the blood supply in this part of the world - and the number of surgeries and diseases here requiring transfusions - good blood is a highly valued commodity. Good blood saves lives. And it is such an easy thing to give for the benefit of others. For selfish reasons involving my own personal health, I had been a bit reluctant to donate blood in a "developing country." Would the needles be sterile? Would the facilities be clean? And what about communication with the staff? Beat Richner put any subconscious fears to rest the other night when he pointed out the West's criticism of the Kantha Bopha Hospitals for being too good, too expensive, and too fancy for a country like Cambodia. Seems to me if the facilities are clean and modern enough to cause such a stir, they're good enough for me. And so I stopped in today. There's perhaps no more convenient place on the planet for travelers to give blood than Phnom Penh's Kantha Bopha Blood Bank. It is inside the Royal Palace complex, after all, as common a stop in the tourist itinerary as any. (Cambodia's King Sihanouk allowed the Kantha Bopha team to establish a hospital on royal land since there were few other reasonable options in Phnom Penh.) On arrival, I was actually a bit surprised to find my presence a novelty to the staff. Despite obvious signs on nearby streets communicating the presence of the blood bank, Kantha Bopha apparently gets fewer tourist blood donations than I'd have guessed. In fact, the way I was treated, you would have deemed me the first tourist ever to donate blood. (I was not - the staff had photographs of other travelers who had given blood in the past.) After filling out the requisite form, and the staff triple-checking my responses to a few of the more intimate questions, the drawing began. And slowly the people started coming in. A pharmacist, a nurse, a doctor. They all wanted to know where I was from, how I'd come to Kantha Bopha, what I thought of Cambodia. By the time the blood was drawn, I was absorbed in discussion about Cambodia's history and the presence of Cambodian-Americans in Seattle, my home. An icy can of Coke was provided (worth the price of my blood right there, I thought, the heat being what it is here in March). And then a t-shirt. And an entire bag of food and household supplies, most of which I simply didn't need. I cannot even remember everything included in the bag I was offered, but I insisted things like condensed milk and cotton balls would be better given to someone else. Meanwhile, my photograph was taken, and I continued my discussion with the staff. This is entirely off-topic - but the conversation today reminded me of another important lesson every traveler should learn: If you demonstrate even basic knowledge of the history and culture of your hosts' country, you will immediately find yourself among friends. It has absolutely never failed me. The surest way to gain the respect of a middle-aged Cambodian is - in the course of answering the ubiquitous question, "What do you think about Cambodia?" - to delicately throw in a few remarks about the history and how it so profoundly affects the country even today. 1975. 1979. Names of cities, key political figures, etc. By simply communicating to them that you're here for more than a cheap vacation, respect is instant. And yes, it helps to know characteristics and names of temples beyond Angkor Wat. Cambodians - eight centuries later - see the Khmer empire of the Angkor era as the zenith of their people's existence. In addition to recent history, knowing a name like Jayavarman VII and a few details of the Angkor era will win many friends in Cambodia. I digress. Back to blood... In addition to plain common sense, one of the reasons I decided to give blood involves an ol' fella from my childhood. The tiny town I grew up in (at the time, it was officially about 350 people strong - since then, the population has exploded by nearly 30% to reach a staggering 450 today) was home to a single boy scout troupe. And the venerable leader of that troupe was a guy whose blood donations were worthy of the Guinness Book, or so it seemed to me. I cannot remember how many pints he'd given, but the numbers seemed impossible to believe. Hundreds of pints, I'd guess. And while I remember very few of the knots he taught and little of the wilderness survival training beyond instructions to strip off all clothing and huddle with other heat-producing bodies to prevent hypothermia in extreme cold, his generosity with his own blood is something I never forgot. To this day, when I see advertisements for blood drawings, ol' Lyle comes to mind. And so today I decided that if I'm to give him any competition, I'd better get cracking. When I wasn't busy chatting with the staff while my blood was being drawn, I thought of all the times my old mentor had settled into a similar position, allowing a very quick twinge of pain and several minutes of methodical pumping for the benefit of people he'd never know. I also chuckled silently that if I were really to attempt besting his record, I might want to factor in the blood he undoubtedly accepted over the years; that he lopped off a finger and insisted on continuing to fly (and build) airplanes despite at least one crash might suggest he was only contributing to the blood pool to balance his own inevitable need. Donating blood is a worthwhile act everywhere - at home or abroad. It just seems to me a particularly easy yet practical thing to do in a country like Cambodia. When you're in Phnom Penh, stop by the Kantha Bopha Blood Bank. Factor in an extra thirty minutes for your visit to the Silver Pagoda (perhaps an hour if you're chatty), and you've helped the local people in significant fashion. (Regarding the generous meal you're given - mine was a chicken sandwich and vegetables - don't forget the hungry families huddled under the trees near the Cambodia-Vietnam Friendship Monument just steps away). As for me, the competition with Lyle has begun.
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