27/09/08
Today is the first wedding anniversary of my good friends Steven and Mary Browne. It is also the one year anniversary of the end of a six year relationship I had been in. That day, one year ago, marked a change for all three of us. Steven and Mary began a new life as husband and wife; I moved home to my parents’ house, again. For nine months Mary carried their first child who would become known, on arrival, as Daniel. I spent those nine months running through the gamut of emotions; relief, guilt, anger, disappointment, fear, self recrimination, confusion; most of them concurrently. The last three months would have to be spent doing something radically different. Since Cameron Diaz wasn’t open to the idea of spending a quarter of a year hanging around Ballybrack with me I decided to travel. Most of what I have experienced in these past three months has been recorded on this blog. Not everything, but most of it. It certainly has been an incredible few months and it isn’t over yet.
It is Saturday afternoon as I write. I have been neglecting my blogging duties so today I intend to make up for it. I began writing today while having a hotdog in Lucky Burger. I have now arrived in the Blue Pumpkin coffee shop. I have ordered a coconut and wild berries sorbet. As I wait for my cool afternoon delight I have been given an icy cold wet towel to wipe my face and neck with. Oh, such excellent service. As I walked the few blocks from burger joint to coffee shop a large rat appeared on the pavement beside me. It was the largest rat I have seen in my life. A Cambodian mother and child sitting outside a shop front saw it too. It was obvious from their apathetic stares that it was nothing new to them. This rat didn’t scurry along close to the wall. It walked nonchalantly in the middle of the pavement , in broad daylight, sniffing about the place just like a dog. I walked on.
Chaan Sras called up to Siem Reap to see me. She stayed six nights in the guest house next door to my lodgings. She would happily have stayed for longer but as it was I who was paying for her accommodation I gently insisted she go back home with the promise from me that I would call back down to Sihanoukville to see her before I go home. The night before she arrived I sat alone at a bar in Pub Street. A voice beside me said, ‘Hello handsome, where you from?’ Turning to my left I beheld a lady boy smiling at me and enquiring if it was okay to sit beside me. I said nothing; he sat down beside me. More questions, ‘What your name? Have you girlfriend? Will you buy me drink?’. I had half a beer to go yet. I attracted the barmaid’s attention and indicated that a drink should be served to the ‘lady’. I could see the staff snickering behind their hands. We are all God’s children, as the saying goes, and I have no problem buying a drink for a bloke who is a bit mixed up. It was the not so gentle poking in the ribs to punctuate each question that made me finish my beer quicker than I had intended. As I got down from the barstool and paid my bill, the lady boy asked me if I was sleeping alone that night. I said I was and that I was quite happy about the fact. ‘Good bye’, I said, ‘Good luck for you’. The staff looked disappointed that the barang had read the situation correctly and was not going to be faced with a ‘Crying Game’ moment later on. The lady boy was left to finish his whiskey and coke alone.
When Chaan Sras arrived the next day and I related the story to her she shrugged her shoulders and said it was up to me what I wanted to do. If that was the kind of thing I liked then that was okay, could I just let her know. I know how these things work over here, if I spend a lot of time and energy insisting that the idea of me with a lady boy is terrible, she will take it that I am declaring undying love for her, Chann Sras, that is. So I simply said, ‘Yeh, fair enough, I’ll let you know’.
During the week, as we walked down Pub Street hand in hand, I spied the same lady boy walking from the opposite direction. I discreetly pointed him out to Chaan Sras. Next thing I know, the lady boy is shouting directly at Chaan Sras; a barrage of Cambodian insults aimed right at her. Chaan Sras squeezed my hand and made straight for the nearest tuk-tuk. The driver immediately fired up his engine and without looking back drove us away from the irate cross dresser. ‘How strange’, I thought. Chaan Sras wouldn’t talk about it in the tuk-tuk. It was dark as we arrived back at the guesthouse. I had to run back to my digs for something. Coming back I realised I had the key for Chaan Sras’s room; she couldn’t get in until my return. Outside my place two lady boys walked by. ‘Hello sir, you want massage?’ Jesus man, they’re everywhere. ‘Otey, or’kun’, I said as I disappeared down the alleyway that leads to the Golden Village Guesthouse. Chaan Sras stood waiting in the alleyway. Just as we kissed the two lady boys appeared. Seeing me with a woman they did an about turn and vanished back around the corner. Chaan Sras explained to me then that the lady boys in Siem Reap are ‘powerful’. They appear to have some sort of mafia thing going on. Even the police are afraid of them. If you make a lady boy in Siem Reap angry you could end up dead. The lady boy had obviously remembered me and took out his anger on Chaan Sras.
In Siem Reap there are numerous pizza restaurants. They have names such as Happy Herb Pizza and Happy Smile Special Pizza. Not being a great fan of Asian food these establishments are a life line for me. The pizzas are good. Served with the toppings of your choice, they are also sprinkled with marijuana. For about an hour after eating a pizza I usually feel happy, I usually feel special and I tend to smile a lot. If you want to feel happier still they are more than willing to sell you a bag of ‘seasoning’ for ten dollars. I have not been tempted as I don’t fancy having to deal with the police around here. From all accounts the police are incredibly corrupt. There is respect for the army but the police are loathed by everyone. I have been told that it costs a lot of money to become a police man and then you have to pay for your ‘patch’. When you have your patch it is up to you how many bribes you can accumulate. The patches that get more bribes cost more initially to buy but if it is a good patch you could make your money back quickly.
For years I have had a thing for Japanese women. To me they were simply stunning. Here in Siem Reap, being a mainly tourist town, all nationalities are walking the streets. Americans, Europeans, Aussies, Chinese and Japanese carry large cameras from restaurant to temple, taking photos of the Apsara dancers, the amputee band playing traditional Khmer music on the roadside, and the quaint French colonial style buildings. I am amazed to admit that the Japanese women I have seen pale in comparison to the Cambodian women. The local girls have beautiful, smooth, dark skin. Practically all of them are slim with excellent posture, long jet-black silky hair and beautiful brown eyes a man could lose himself in. Sadly some of them try to bleach their skin in an attempt to look more western. Some Cambodian women can look very serious, aloof, or indeed very proud looking. Just like the Thais though, when they smile their whole face lights up and radiates pure joy and warmth. Seeing a Cambodian woman drive by on a scooter gets my heart racing. Her hair blowing in the wind, her tee-shirt clinging to her lithe body, her shorts clinging even tighter... I had better stop this train of thought, I’m still in the Blue Pumpkin and I’m afraid to stand up now. Therefore, I have ordered a pot of green tea as I swat flies away from the mosquito bites on my shins and feet. The American girl at the other table with her back to me has an arse the size of a small country and the g-string that is riding up her lower back is helping to cool my ardour somewhat.
Relations with the other volunteers have improved as some have left and new ones have arrived. Suzy, who was to work with Rhonda and me transferred to the New Hope project as she wants to work with teenagers. Erica, a brummie, arrived at the start of the week just past. She is working with me and Rhonda in Sala Tessa. On her first night in town we sat up on the rooftop talking until sunrise. We have a lot in common.
Today is the first wedding anniversary of my good friends Steven and Mary Browne. It is also the one year anniversary of the end of a six year relationship I had been in. That day, one year ago, marked a change for all three of us. Steven and Mary began a new life as husband and wife; I moved home to my parents’ house, again. For nine months Mary carried their first child who would become known, on arrival, as Daniel. I spent those nine months running through the gamut of emotions; relief, guilt, anger, disappointment, fear, self recrimination, confusion; most of them concurrently. The last three months would have to be spent doing something radically different. Since Cameron Diaz wasn’t open to the idea of spending a quarter of a year hanging around Ballybrack with me I decided to travel. Most of what I have experienced in these past three months has been recorded on this blog. Not everything, but most of it. It certainly has been an incredible few months and it isn’t over yet.
It is Saturday afternoon as I write. I have been neglecting my blogging duties so today I intend to make up for it. I began writing today while having a hotdog in Lucky Burger. I have now arrived in the Blue Pumpkin coffee shop. I have ordered a coconut and wild berries sorbet. As I wait for my cool afternoon delight I have been given an icy cold wet towel to wipe my face and neck with. Oh, such excellent service. As I walked the few blocks from burger joint to coffee shop a large rat appeared on the pavement beside me. It was the largest rat I have seen in my life. A Cambodian mother and child sitting outside a shop front saw it too. It was obvious from their apathetic stares that it was nothing new to them. This rat didn’t scurry along close to the wall. It walked nonchalantly in the middle of the pavement , in broad daylight, sniffing about the place just like a dog. I walked on.
Chaan Sras called up to Siem Reap to see me. She stayed six nights in the guest house next door to my lodgings. She would happily have stayed for longer but as it was I who was paying for her accommodation I gently insisted she go back home with the promise from me that I would call back down to Sihanoukville to see her before I go home. The night before she arrived I sat alone at a bar in Pub Street. A voice beside me said, ‘Hello handsome, where you from?’ Turning to my left I beheld a lady boy smiling at me and enquiring if it was okay to sit beside me. I said nothing; he sat down beside me. More questions, ‘What your name? Have you girlfriend? Will you buy me drink?’. I had half a beer to go yet. I attracted the barmaid’s attention and indicated that a drink should be served to the ‘lady’. I could see the staff snickering behind their hands. We are all God’s children, as the saying goes, and I have no problem buying a drink for a bloke who is a bit mixed up. It was the not so gentle poking in the ribs to punctuate each question that made me finish my beer quicker than I had intended. As I got down from the barstool and paid my bill, the lady boy asked me if I was sleeping alone that night. I said I was and that I was quite happy about the fact. ‘Good bye’, I said, ‘Good luck for you’. The staff looked disappointed that the barang had read the situation correctly and was not going to be faced with a ‘Crying Game’ moment later on. The lady boy was left to finish his whiskey and coke alone.
When Chaan Sras arrived the next day and I related the story to her she shrugged her shoulders and said it was up to me what I wanted to do. If that was the kind of thing I liked then that was okay, could I just let her know. I know how these things work over here, if I spend a lot of time and energy insisting that the idea of me with a lady boy is terrible, she will take it that I am declaring undying love for her, Chann Sras, that is. So I simply said, ‘Yeh, fair enough, I’ll let you know’.
During the week, as we walked down Pub Street hand in hand, I spied the same lady boy walking from the opposite direction. I discreetly pointed him out to Chaan Sras. Next thing I know, the lady boy is shouting directly at Chaan Sras; a barrage of Cambodian insults aimed right at her. Chaan Sras squeezed my hand and made straight for the nearest tuk-tuk. The driver immediately fired up his engine and without looking back drove us away from the irate cross dresser. ‘How strange’, I thought. Chaan Sras wouldn’t talk about it in the tuk-tuk. It was dark as we arrived back at the guesthouse. I had to run back to my digs for something. Coming back I realised I had the key for Chaan Sras’s room; she couldn’t get in until my return. Outside my place two lady boys walked by. ‘Hello sir, you want massage?’ Jesus man, they’re everywhere. ‘Otey, or’kun’, I said as I disappeared down the alleyway that leads to the Golden Village Guesthouse. Chaan Sras stood waiting in the alleyway. Just as we kissed the two lady boys appeared. Seeing me with a woman they did an about turn and vanished back around the corner. Chaan Sras explained to me then that the lady boys in Siem Reap are ‘powerful’. They appear to have some sort of mafia thing going on. Even the police are afraid of them. If you make a lady boy in Siem Reap angry you could end up dead. The lady boy had obviously remembered me and took out his anger on Chaan Sras.
In Siem Reap there are numerous pizza restaurants. They have names such as Happy Herb Pizza and Happy Smile Special Pizza. Not being a great fan of Asian food these establishments are a life line for me. The pizzas are good. Served with the toppings of your choice, they are also sprinkled with marijuana. For about an hour after eating a pizza I usually feel happy, I usually feel special and I tend to smile a lot. If you want to feel happier still they are more than willing to sell you a bag of ‘seasoning’ for ten dollars. I have not been tempted as I don’t fancy having to deal with the police around here. From all accounts the police are incredibly corrupt. There is respect for the army but the police are loathed by everyone. I have been told that it costs a lot of money to become a police man and then you have to pay for your ‘patch’. When you have your patch it is up to you how many bribes you can accumulate. The patches that get more bribes cost more initially to buy but if it is a good patch you could make your money back quickly.
For years I have had a thing for Japanese women. To me they were simply stunning. Here in Siem Reap, being a mainly tourist town, all nationalities are walking the streets. Americans, Europeans, Aussies, Chinese and Japanese carry large cameras from restaurant to temple, taking photos of the Apsara dancers, the amputee band playing traditional Khmer music on the roadside, and the quaint French colonial style buildings. I am amazed to admit that the Japanese women I have seen pale in comparison to the Cambodian women. The local girls have beautiful, smooth, dark skin. Practically all of them are slim with excellent posture, long jet-black silky hair and beautiful brown eyes a man could lose himself in. Sadly some of them try to bleach their skin in an attempt to look more western. Some Cambodian women can look very serious, aloof, or indeed very proud looking. Just like the Thais though, when they smile their whole face lights up and radiates pure joy and warmth. Seeing a Cambodian woman drive by on a scooter gets my heart racing. Her hair blowing in the wind, her tee-shirt clinging to her lithe body, her shorts clinging even tighter... I had better stop this train of thought, I’m still in the Blue Pumpkin and I’m afraid to stand up now. Therefore, I have ordered a pot of green tea as I swat flies away from the mosquito bites on my shins and feet. The American girl at the other table with her back to me has an arse the size of a small country and the g-string that is riding up her lower back is helping to cool my ardour somewhat.
Relations with the other volunteers have improved as some have left and new ones have arrived. Suzy, who was to work with Rhonda and me transferred to the New Hope project as she wants to work with teenagers. Erica, a brummie, arrived at the start of the week just past. She is working with me and Rhonda in Sala Tessa. On her first night in town we sat up on the rooftop talking until sunrise. We have a lot in common.
You will see that I have posted a few pictures of Sala Tessa. The children, (they are my children now, as I might take a few home with me), are just adorable. I love being in the class with them. I have spent four days trying to get them to pronounce the word ‘fish’ correctly but still to no avail. They can pronounce ‘F’ and ‘Sh’ but when said together it comes out as ‘Fwiss’. I can’t really put into words my experiences with these children. It has made me realise how vulnerable children really are in the world and has strengthened my resolve never to have any of my own. For surely if I had a child I would never sleep again for fear of something happening to them. As well as trying to teach them English we encourage them to play games and get involved with arts and crafts. I made a large snakes and ladders board one evening, Chaan Sras helped me, and brought it into class the next day. With the board stuck up firmly on the wall I divided the class into two teams. Each team member got a chance to role the dice. The whoops of delight and squeals of anguish as they moved up ladders and down snakes were a joy to behold. We carefully counted together, in English, as team A got nearer to the final square only to be usurped by team B who were lucky enough to land on a ladder and make it to the end first.
As I am typing this blog I am back at the Globalteers headquarters. I’m up on the roof and a strong wind is getting up. My cigarette packet has already been blown off the table and the writing pad I used while in the Blue Pumpkin has been trying valiantly to go the same way. I shall sign off for now because it is going to lash rain soon and I am meeting Erica in town for a few pints. Cheers to my good friend Niall for ringing me the other night. It was good to hear your voice, yah crazy bastard.
Love to all and Happy Birthday Mam x.
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