Weak at the knees

08/09/08

Nowch is back! I went into the bar the other night with Tony and she was there. It was almost like a civic reception for me. All the staff stood around her and smiled at me as I approached the bar. Nowch’s smile radiated stronger than everyone else’s, the only exception being my stupid and excited teenage-like grin. We bowed to each other and then our eyes locked together for an eternity that sang of sensuality, yearning, and the unquenchable fire of desire. ‘The usual Cah-win?’, she enquired. Her eyes danced as my heart swelled. She remembered my name, oh sweet joy! I asked after her health. She was much better now, thank you for asking. Then she said she had heard I have a girlfriend, the other staff had seen me walk by with her many times. I told her I had waited so long to see her again. ‘It’s no problem’, said Nowch. ‘If you stay in Phnom Penh we will get to talk’. The rest of the night was spent swapping secret glances and smiles.
Never before in my life have I been attracted to the back of a woman’s knees. Each time Nowch went to the till I couldn’t take my eyes off her knees and calves. Whenever she turned and looked at me, I melted. Tony told me stop looking at her face with such devotion and show some respect for the hard working whores that were around the place trying to conduct business. Near the end of the night as Nowch and I stood across the bar from each other, both of us watching me drowning in her eyes, I uttered the words, ‘Some day’. Her expression changed instantly, something was wrong. Tony immediately burst out laughing. He explained to her what I had meant and then proceeded to enlighten me about what was so funny. When I said ‘Some day’, Nowch would have heard the Cambodian words ‘som tei’. These two words have different meanings depending on the context. The meaning can differ from ‘hand’ to ‘jug’ to ‘sleep with you’. Thankfully we got it cleared up and all was well. Unfortunately I have not gotten around to taking any photos for the past week; I will try to get one of Nowch before I leave here.
At this time Jethro was back at the guesthouse in bed because she was tired. I have since seen her identity card and her name is actually Chaan Sras (the last s is silent). I am so relieved now not to be sharing a bed with someone called Jethro. Chaan Sras and I have been together for just over a week and it has been good. She is a bright and cheerful woman with a glowing smile and an infectious laugh. She is thoughtful, very polite and gentle. She is quite tall for a Cambodian and her physique would put you in mind of Naomi Campbell. We shall be saying goodbye on Wednesday, as I have to move on to Siem Reap for the work I signed up for. Maybe we shall meet up again.
Last night Chaan Sras and I went for a few drinks in a local bar. A friend of hers lives close by and we decided to make a social call. A lot of the people in Phnom Penh live in what can only be described as slums. Think of Angela’s Ashes only a hell of a lot warmer. We turned down an alleyway as dark clouds gathered above. Just as the lightning flashed a dog ran out from a door towards me, barking and snarling. I froze. I turned to Chaan Sras; she was even more frightened than me. A child appeared shouting at the dog. After one swift kick from the young girl the dog scurried back in through the doorway. We moved onwards deeper into the dark alleyway. From all sides Cambodians both young and old stared at the tall balding barang with the tall beautiful Cambodian girl. After many twists and turns and several peals of thunder from above we came to an even narrower alleyway. Chaan Sras told me to wait there as she disappeared into the darkness. A wizened old woman sat on a raised wooden platform fixed to the wall. I bowed and raised my hands together in the traditional greeting. She smiled and mirrored my action. She then proceeded to hold a conversation with me in Khymer. At one stage she pointed between her legs and then at her breasts. Suddenly I wished I was back facing the dog. She carried on talking and gesticulating, pausing periodically to see if I had anything to add to the conversation. Taking a cue from her actions I mimed cradling a baby. Her crumpled old face lit up with a big smile; now she believed I understood what she was talking about.
As the first heavy drops of rain began to fall Chann Sras reappeared. Her friend wasn’t in. So then, back to the bar. We made it in time just before the torrential downpour. The streets outside flooded as prostitutes played pool and stared suggestively at me. Chaan Sras tried to tell me some story or other in her broken English while the sound system pumped out Robbie Williams. I turned my back to the pool table and ordered another drink. Incredibly there was no tuk-tuk to be found when we left the bar. In the pouring rain we both sat on the back of a motorbike as the driver ploughed through the river that was once a road. As I held onto Chaan Sras’s slender waist I had one of those moments of being totally in the present. I, Colin Cannon, at that moment was sitting on the back of a bike with a beautiful woman in the pouring rain in Phnom Penh, Cambodia. I didn’t have to get up for work the next morning and drive the M50 to Clondalkin, half asleep and totally bored. Soaking wet from the knees down we stopped at the side of the road to get some food to take home. A ‘take away’ if you will. God only knows what it was but no matter how hard she tried to get me to taste the food she had ordered I would not. It was basically some form of offal. In reference to my meal, I thought I had pointed at some beef with noodle but it turned out to be kidneys. The weight is starting to fall off me.
Money shall soon be running low and if I want to extend my South East Asia experience I shall be forced to seek employment. Apparently it is easier for a westerner to get a job in Cambodia than in Thailand. Maybe I will go with my original plan and actually try to get some work teaching English. I have enjoyed my two weeks in Phnom Penh and my diversion in Sirhanoukville. I have met some good people such as Tony the Aussie, Chaan Sras, Hen, Watana my trustee tuk-tuk driver, Ansi in the restaurant and of course the delectable Nowch. When I first arrived in Phnom Penh it was a strange and at times daunting place. Now I am used to the crazy traffic, the rotten rubbish strewn about the pavements, the exotic smells of cooking on street corners and the really lousy attempts at western food. I have learned to negotiate a fare with a tuk-tuk driver, combining riel and dollars. I have in some small way come to terms with the poverty I see around me. I am now looking forward to Siem Reap and the four week challenge I face.