august weekend misadventures

Thursday night I crossed paths with a random  Australian who may or may not have told me in between drinks that he killed a Cambodian man in a motor accident on one of the National Roads and that it was tearing him apart because as a foreigner, the last thing you want to do is be involved in vehicle incident. At least he stopped to check if he was okay, though continued home after finding the body split in two. 

Friday night I had another awkward dinner at a hotel where I once again enjoyed steamed dim sum, pretended to understand Khmer, stared at Malaysian ladies that didn't speak English, and listened to Indonesian men fresh of the plane pound on drums as they lost themselves in a trance, probably wishing they were back in their island village.  This time I sat next to a Cambodian tycoon paying $5000 a head for U.K. pigs to fly over so he could raise them here and improve the quality of meat. In remembrance of a college senior year development class, I asked if he would be flying in cows as well. Yes. $10,000 a head probably. Do they fly executive or first class?  I didn't dare ask. Sarcasm lost in translation is a pity sometimes. 

Through wasabi-induced watering eyes, I nodded thanks as he confided in me how much he liked foreigners, wished they would stay in Cambodia, and if I ever, EVER was in trouble here, to give him a call. Card placed in front of me, names of various companies listed below. 

Honestly, since when am I suddenly mixing with Cambodian business tycoons (in most probability ravaging the nation's resources)? It was a good diplomatic exercise though. 

Saturday I pretended not to be in Phnom Penh as I watched CNN's special on Dolly Parton (remember Dollywood?) and biked over to St. 240, where I stared longingly at unique vintage designs hanging in tiny boutiques and then made my way over to the air conditioned heaven of monument books where I stared longingly at overpriced books and fought off a cough with some strong Japanese green tea. 

The good thing is I'm not sick anymore, though the Shiatsu massage guy wondered what the hell I had been doing to my back as he pounded and worked through the knots and I winced in pain.  I ride my bike (which by the way has suffered its second ailment post handle bars coming off- the back tire is flat).

Also I'm sad to report my french colleague quit last Friday and is moving back to France, which brought about the brutal reminder of  how transient this world is. She's left me a nice french press for me to remember her by, which will no doubt come in handy every day at 2pm when I'm falling asleep a the laptop.