what September brought

I can’t sleep again. It could be because I have a bad cold/cough or it could be something else. Through my half-open window I can hear another woman coughing into the night as well. That’s the thing about aluminum siding pushed up against other buildings. You can pretty much here everything from the tele to your neighbor’s various illnesses. How is it possible to catch a cold in 80-degree weather?  Maybe she knows. The Cambodian doctor said it wasn’t bronchitis, just a bad cough. He then went about prescribing three different types of pills all the while conveying the historic importance of the “golden Cambodian land” and its attractive lack of catastrophic weather disasters that draw tourists in. I wonder if they teach 'How to Not Scare Western Tourists 101' in Cambodian Med-School.  Seriously though… I felt like I was listening to a commercial for Cambodia the blessed land instead of a medical practitioner. Anyways, I really need to get one of those mouth-mask coverings you usually see stereotypical Japanese people wear when the Asian-Flu descends upon their city. People here wear those all the time when they are in transport. I should probably get over it and just strap one of those blue flimsy things on. I spent the first five years of my life getting sick from Mexico City smog and twenty years later I’m fighting to clear my lungs of Phnom Penh. Perhaps I should reconsider moving to cleaner, greener pastures.

Two weeks ago I visited such a pasture outside of the city. Actually, it was more of a soccer field, and a really muddy one at that. My flatmate Nora’s NGO whose name continuously escapes me, organized a Futbol 4 Peace soccer tournament for kids, with teams from various “eviction” settlements fighting for a giant plastic gold trophy. It reminded me of my youth soccer league days, the only difference being there were no girls playing and all the players took the field sans cleets.How beautiful-- just the bare foot to the ball—futbol at its most basic. 

 

While I watched from underneath a small shelter, hiding well away from the sun, the kids ran around in that scorching heat, trading tee-shirts when the subs went in, rinsing their feet off with cool water, and cheering on fellow team mates with white plastic-bucket drums.

  I really wish there were more events like these around here. It makes me feel a little bit more hopeful—a feeling completely absent last Wednesday.

 

That’s right- the monstrosity that is Bavet’s Titan King Casino completely robbed that cheery positive NGO feeling out of me when my boss and I took a promotional marketing video (pre-production) surveying trip to visit the gaudy Chinese-built palace along the eastern border with Vietnam. One trip to Casinoland is all it takes to understand the complete misdirection of investment in a developing country.  I suppose I shan’t disclose too many details, but let me tell you that if in this world I ever build anything, it will not be a casino, and if for some ludicrous reason I do decide to build a casino, I will make every effort to make sure that the builders are not Chinese, that they have taken proper measurements of all doors and doorways, I refuse carpet installations in hot temperate climates, and I employ a proper accountant. I felt really bad for the young eager, chain-smoking five-coffees in three hours, new Malaysian manager that showed us around and confessed every detail about his first 22-days in hell (on the job) to us.  Poor guy.  Phenomenal challenge though for any person willing to subject themselves to Cambodian business politics and dealing with Chinese sub-contractors— equally phenomenal challenge for the creation of a 30-minute regional marketing video on this place. 

Photo snapped as we drove away- proof that the golden monstrosity exists.