I'm convinced I missed something growing up.
Was there a national assembly I didn't attend? A family meeting I skipped? Because somehow everyone got the memo except me: headphones are for closers.
They're not banned. You can grab a pair at any stall on Street 51. But using them in public? That's apparently optional. Audio is communal property. If your phone makes a sound, everyone gets to enjoy it.
The Transit Van Symphony
Hit me hard on a recent trip to Siem Reap. I got on the van, found my seat, ready to zone out for a few hours. We're barely past the city limits when the guy next to me whips out his phone.
Straight to Facebook Watch. Full blast.
Those Khmer comedy videos, the ones with the sound effects that could wake the dead. Boing! Squeak! HAHAHAHA! Every. Five. Seconds.
I glanced around, half-expecting someone else to say something. Nothing. The auntie across from me had a Thai lakorn going at competing volume. The driver was cycling through EDM remixes of old Khmer songs.
Not a van ride. A battle royale of noise, and my silence was a white flag.
The Speakerphone Era
It's not just videos. Phone calls are a full theatrical production now.
Yesterday I'm at a cafe near the market, trying to get through some work. This guy sits at the table behind me—close enough that I can smell his coffee—and takes a video call.
Props the phone up. Launches into a full debate about construction supplies, listing off cement brands and rebar prices like he's negotiating a UN treaty. Twenty minutes. I now know more about building materials in Kandal than I ever wanted to.
When he finally hung up, he looked over and smiled. Just a regular smile. Like we'd been having coffee together the whole time.
Why I'm the Weird One
After enough time, you stop being annoyed and start wondering if you're the problem.
Maybe I'm too hung up on this Western idea of personal space bubbles. That thing where you pretend you're alone even when you're crammed on a bus with forty other people.
Here, if you're in the same space, you're in it together. The sound, the chaos, the random soap opera someone's aunt is watching—it's all part of the deal. Silence isn't peaceful. It's awkward.
Survival Guide
If you're like me and still clinging to your headphones, you've got two paths:
- Invest in proper noise-canceling ones. The big over-ear kind that make you look like you're about to land a plane. It's the only defense that works.
- Let it go.
I'm inching toward the second one. Still carry my headphones most days, but sometimes I just ride it out. Last week I actually caught myself laughing at one of those ridiculous comedy sketches the guy next to me was watching.
He saw me grinning, nudged my arm, and angled his screen toward me.
Maybe shared audio isn't the worst thing. Though I'm still never playing my Spotify out loud—nobody needs to know about my embarrassing playlist.