Flower and me at the 69 Bar

Three weeks ago, I celebrated my birthday surrounded by prostitutes. When I first arrived in Phnom Penh, Cambodia, I somehow managed to select a hotel that was smack in the middle of the red light district.  Don’t ask me how I managed to miss the signs for the “69 Bar”, “Pussycat Bar” and “Red Fox” that were all on my block.  I suppose I was just so intensely focused on finding accommodation that signs not reading “hotel” simply didn’t register in my brain.  

As a result of my hotel selection, I lived, surrounded by the world’s oldest profession, for a couple weeks, although it remained behind closed doors and thus, a continued mystery to me.  I have always been a curious soul and this was a world entirely different from any to which I’d been exposed before. I’ve made it my mission on this trip to reach beyond my comfort zone and to experience the real world, the whole world.  My curiosity swelled. Who were the girls who worked in the bars? How did they get to be there?  How did they feel about their jobs? Were they able to keep their souls intact while selling their bodies and, if so, how? I wanted to get beyond the movie stereotypes and find out.

For the past nine years, I’ve always thrown a birthday party for myself – the result of being perpetually single but loving to celebrate the day of my birth with friends.  The more unusual the scene for the party, the better.  On Thanksgiving day, a week before my birthday, I got the idea to host my 2008 party in one of the Cambodian go-go bars.  I was born in 1969 so the “69 Bar” seemed an obvious choice (yes, yes – I know the name has nothing to do with a year).  After eating my fill of turkey, I headed over to the 69 Bar with Eric to scope it out as the potential Ground Zero.

with Eric for my birthday dinner

Khmer society is extremely conservative. I had heard that in Cambodian go-go bars, the girls were not topless as in strip clubs in the West but were fully clothed … which turned out to be true.  Comically, even in the bars, if girls move in ways deemed too provocative, they can be arrested!  The dichotomies of Cambodia continue to astound me and send me into constant fits of giggles. 

Behind the doors, the 69 Bar couldn’t have been more different from the Western strip clubs I’d seen in the movies.  In fact, I’ve come to learn that go-go bars are an entirely different animal from strip clubs altogether.  Essentially, a go-go bar is simply a bar “stocked” with a large number of girls called “hostesses” who are available to go home if a customer wishes, but they’ll also just sit and talk, rub your neck, shoulders or back, play pool, dance or just hang out.  Generally, there are no poles or stages with dancing girls.  And other than the fact of about 30 Cambodian girls crammed into the long, narrow shot-gun building, 69 Bar didn’t really look so different from an ordinary bar.  

The second Eric and I walked through the door, the girls screamed and yelled “hello” like a bunch of high school girls greeting one of their friends that they hadn’t seen all summer.  We felt like celebrities. They escorted us to a table and took our drink orders.  It seemed that the entire point in the bar was to lavish attention on customers; but that attention, at least in the bar area, stopped with shoulder, neck, back and hand massages.  I got a neck and shoulder rub while I sat at the bar and I have to say it’s the best one I’ve had on my trip.

sprayed with fake snow

Sensing that Eric and I were together, the girls kept a respectful distance from him and focused their attentions on me. The interesting thing was, their attentions were of exactly the same sort as I received from Cambodian women all over the country.  They were friendly and sisterly; there was nothing remotely sexual about it.  I enjoyed talking with the girls and finding out what provinces they were from and how long they’d lived in Phnom Penh (most were from out in the country).  

Instead of feeling like I was in a go-go bar, I felt like I was at a slumber party. The girls and I all danced together to goofy songs from the 70s and 80s.  We created a mutual admiration society complimenting each other to no end: “You’re so beautiful!” “I love your hair!” “I love your smile!” “You have such pretty eyes!” “You’re a great dancer!” “What a pretty top you’re wearing!”

These girls were delightful, lovely, sweet young girls, just like I’d met all over Cambodia … and all over Southeast Asia for that matter.  The irony wasn’t lost on me that these girls radiated a certain sweet innocence that felt to me very genuine and endearing. 

I spent quite a bit of time talking to a girl named Sy who was my age.  She told me about her daughter who lived in Siem Reap, four hours away from Phnom Penh.  She missed her very much and didn’t get to see her as often as she’d like.  The bar music was loud so I couldn’t understand her answer when I asked why her daughter lived away from her.  

my birthday cake

I had mentioned early on to Sy that I was scoping out her bar for my birthday party the following week.  She later told me that she enjoyed making clothes and if I returned to the bar next week for my party, she would have a made a pretty top for me.  She took my measurements by fitting her hands around my waist and rib cage.  Although I felt she was sincere in her offer, I couldn’t imagine why this woman I’d only spent 20 minutes talking to would make me anything; much less an article of clothing.  Regardless, Eric and I had enjoyed a lovely and interesting time at 69 Bar and I decided to return for my party there the next week.

In the meantime, I announced my birthday plans to half a dozen people I’d met through working with the kids at Stung Meanchey dump. Suddenly, I was no longer throwing my own party.  The guys took over and decided that we would start at Bogie & Becall Bar for cake and then would have a progressive go-go bar party, hitting as many of the bars as possible, including 69 Bar.

So, I followed instructions and just showed up.  Those sweethearts had specially ordered a cake for me that was both beautiful and delicious.  A camera made of icing was “painted” on the cake and the inscription read: “Happy Birthday Beverly From the Dump Boys.” They brought out sparklers, sang Happy Birthday twice, toasted my health and sprayed me with fake snow.  It was delightful and fun.

Sy and the gift (or at least the box) she gave me for my birthday

Then we started our go-go bar parade.  We hit five different bars that night.  There were some differences among them (one bar did actually have mirrors and poles and I enjoyed the strange but novel experience of being taught how to pole dance), but they were all generally the same.  The girls were very sweet and sisterly to me and we danced all night long.  

Half-way through the evening, our parade made it back to 69 Bar.  Even though I hadn’t told Sy which night we would be coming back, true to her word, she was waiting with a pretty decorative box and bow for me.  Inside was an absolutely stunning hand crocheted camisole top that she told me took her five days to make.  I was already close to tears when she handed me a card.  It was one of the most beautiful cards I’ve seen.  The inside, written in English, read:

To sister Li (I go by “Li” in Cambodia instead of Beverly as it’s easier for people to pronounce) from Sy.  Happy Birthday to you. I wish you a good luck, good life, good dreams, good love.  When you come back [to] your country don’t forget me. I love you. Sy  

learning to pole dance (my parents must be so proud)

A second note tucked into the card on loose paper, almost an after-thought, read:

“I don’t know why I want do present for you. But I hope you will like it. I am not have brother and sister. I have alone when I sat. I cry not who hear me. I want sister or brother but I don’t know when I has. [sic]”

I was absolutely floored and could scarcely speak several minutes. Like Sy, I don’t know why she felt compelled to make me a gift either, but we had obviously made a connection.  Her note and her friendship were the best gifts I received on my birthday.

The evening was generally a lot of fun and I enjoyed thumbing my nose at social mores by holding my birthday party in that “off-color” environment. But more than that, as is often the case in my Southeast Asian experiences and adventures, I learned and experienced more than I set out to. Through my interaction with these kind-hearted women, I realized what I should have known all along: bar girls are real flesh and blood women who have hearts, hopes and dreams like the rest of us.  I chose to get to know them rather than drawing a line to set us apart and my world is richer as a result. I not only had a fabulous and interesting birthday, I now have another sister.

To attend my birthday party via video, click here.