26/10/08
Well I’ve been back in Sihanoukville for about a week now. Chaan Sras has been very good with helping me out regarding digs and moto rental. With her help I have managed to get a month’s accommodation for 130 dollars and rented a motorbike at 80 dollars for the month. Compared to the 15 dollars a night I was paying in Phnom Penh for digs this is a huge saving. Sihanoukville, as you may know, is a seaside resort type of town down the south west end of Cambodia.
One of my main intentions in coming down here was to get away from the city and relax for a while. To slow down and live a life less hectic. I have hoped to spend some serious time at writing to see if I can actually do it. I haven’t been very successful so far to be honest. I have started one short story but haven’t gotten around to finishing it yet.
One of the other items on my agenda was to learn to ride a motor bike. I have only ever had one other experience of motorbikes in my life. My cousin Michelle let me have a go of her bike many years ago. My first experience lasted approximately ten seconds; I pulled on the throttle and rode straight into a wall. I grazed my arm and broke one of the indicator lights on her bike.
This time it was to be different; this time I would do it properly. Chaan Sras brought me out to a lonely road just outside the town and tried to explain as best she could in her pigeon English how to operate a moto. She got many a laugh watching me struggle and panic as I tried to control the little iron pony and keep it in a straight line. Twice I lost control and veered off into the ditch. After half an hour of pottering up and down the road I was starting to get used to it. Eventually Chaan Sras trusted me enough to sit on the back of the moto and let me drive back towards town. As we slowly made our way back towards the main roads a car overtook me. This threw me off for some reason and I panicked a bit. When this happens my hand pulls on the throttle and our speed increases. With the increase of speed my panic increases and I pull harder on the throttle; vicious circle. I had visions of broken limbs or worse as we careered off the road towards a group of trees. ‘Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck’, I exclaimed as the trees sped towards us. Chaan Sras was crippled with laughter; it was the funniest situation she had seen in a long time. Some primeval part of my brain, concerned with the art of survival, made me lift my hand away from the throttle and the bike, its progress hampered by the long grass by the road, immediately began to slow down and eventually stop leaving all our limbs and skulls intact. I rented a moto the next day and spent the next day or two driving up and down the road outside the guesthouse until I felt confident enough to head into the centre of town on my own.
My confidence on the bike was to be tested when the other day I agreed to go with Chaan Sras and her friend to see Buddha. They called to my guesthouse on Chaan Sras’ moto and I climbed upon my Honda 100 to follow them. They cut across traffic and drove the wrong way down one road as I tried to keep up. They stopped at a road side store to get some gifts (fruit and some tea leaves) for Buddha. Chaan Sras asked if I was okay. ‘No problem’, I replied as my heart was thumping in my chest. Just then the rain began to fall. We motored on, going ever upwards as the roads got narrower and steeper. I trailed behind as the roads got wetter and slippier.
When we arrived at the temple we were met by a troupe of monkeys who were very interested by the fruit in the plastic bags the two girls carried. Pretty soon we were surrounded and one of them made a grab for one of the bags. The girls didn’t find this funny; in fact they began to become frightened. I grabbed the two bags and put them in the compartment under the seat of my moto. Problem solved for now. We sat around in the rain for a while because the monk was sleeping at present. The monkeys lost interest and retired to the trees in the courtyard. Eventually the monk was ready to receive visitors and I got the fruit from the moto as the girls removed their shoes and went in to sit before the monk and speak to Buddha.
‘Bonjour,’ said the monk as I entered. ‘Parlez vous Francais’? ‘En pue’, I replied. He had no English he explained to me as he stubbed out his cigar. I would say he was in his late forties or early fifties. It is difficult to guess people’s ages in Cambodia because they always look younger than they actually are. A brief chat was then held between the monk and Chaan Sras. At the moment Chaan Sras has some issues in her life that she needs to get sorted. She has a ten month old baby girl. The father is Italian and he has recently arrived back in Cambodia with the intention of taking the child back to Italy to live. Chaan Sras is to accompany him to Italia and see that the child is being looked after properly and when she is happy she will sign over guardianship of the child and return to Cambodia alone. While he is here it is not really acceptable for her to be seen out too often with me as she would get a bad name for herself. She has told me she loves me and wants to stay with me but with the situation at the moment her hands are tied. I simply shrug and say that it is up to her what she wants to do. I have grown accustomed to her face and I like having her around. I will simply sit back and watch how things unfold.
The monk asked for my left hand and with the aid of a magnifying glass proceeded to read my palm. He told me that I had had three women in my life that I had loved. He then looked at my right hand. He told me I would have two children in the future. He then read Chaan Sras’ palms. She too would have two children in her future. He told me that Chaan Sras and I would be very happy together if we chose to be together but that it was up to Chaan Sras at the moment what decisions she would make. I just smiled noncommittally and prepared myself for the blessing. This is the third time I have been drenched by a monk. Chaan Sras and I left then and waited outside with the blessing bowl. We washed each other’s hair with the holy water as we waited on her friend who was still inside with the monk. I can’t for the life of me remember her friends name; her friend has no English at all so I never really got to talk to her.
When her friend came out she was carrying a plastic bag full of food. She is married with children but times are hard at the moment. The monk gave her the food along with twenty dollars and his phone number. Act of charity or making a pass? I don’t know but most of the monks I have met seem to be heavy smokers and sit around all day talking to frustrated women. I drove home alone in the pouring rain.
I have discovered an Irish bar called Darby O’Gills. It is on the main street in town away from the beaches. It is owned and run by an Irish man called Colm. I discovered the bar the last time I was here and the owner recommended that when I go home I should first buy 80 dollars worth of Viagra, smuggle them home and I would make about 2000 euro selling them on the black market. I think I may have mentioned that before. Anyway I have been frequenting this bar which is usually very empty at the moment as they wait for the high season to kick in next month. The other night I was told that one of the regular barmen had died the day before. I had never met him. He was 56 years old. He had taken a fall recently and it is believed that one of his ribs punctured a lung. His body was in Phnom Penh and his family were coming over from Ireland to collect him. The next day the family were coming down to Sihanoukville for a wake. I was most welcome to call in if I liked.
The next evening in true cloak and dagger style Chaan Sras crept up to see me in my room. After a while we decided to pop out for a drink. I suggested Darby O’Gills. We sat at the bar while the family sat at tables outside by the road. The family consisted of the deceased’s sister and her husband and the deceased’s three kids; twin boys and one girl all in their late twenties or early thirties. One of the sons had bought a guitar while in Phnom Penh. He sat strumming it at the table outside. After a few drinks and small talk with the two barmen Chaan Sras had to go home. I kissed her and told her to be careful driving home; I wasn’t ready to leave yet. Myself and one of the barmen, Neil from Drimnagh, sat outside with the grieving family. It wasn’t long before we were all singing and boozing like true Irishmen. I played a number of songs on the guitar and my performance was warmly accepted and appreciated. The beers kept flowing, I never needed to order one, and they just kept coming. At one stage a large fry up of potatoes, sausages and rashers was placed in front of me. I tore into it ravenously and washed it down with another beer. At one stage I had run out of cigarettes, no problem, another packet was placed in front of me.
At about four o’clock in the morning I believed it was time to go home. I gave thanks to all who were there and when I went to settle my bill I was told I had no bill to settle. Many thanks Colm.
Apparently it is coming to the end of the rainy season and the high season will kick in soon. For the moment my days are comparatively quiet and thus I have no excuse for not turning my hand to some writing. When I need to cool down I hop on my moto and drive through the streets of Sihanoukville, the breeze is almost luxuriant as it envelopes my sweaty body and revives my flagging energy. This part of my journey has been by far the quietest and most uneventful but I am enjoying the time alone and I believe it is necessary for me to try and get a few things straight in my head about what I am to do when I eventually return home.
Until next time folks, love to all.
Sunday, October 26, 2008
Saturday, October 18, 2008
Looking Back...
18/10/08
They left Siem Reap together in a shared taxi. The man who was sharing the taxi sat in the front, he was an army man. A home made tattoo of Angkor Wat was etched onto the back of his hand. He didn’t speak much but he explained that he was going to Phnom Penh on official business, something to do with the trouble on the Thai / Cambodian border.
On their first night in Phnom Penh they argued over something that had been bubbling for a while; an emotional undercurrent that neither had chosen to face up to. She left the next morning; back to Sihanoukville. No problem, Tony the Aussie was also back in town. The next seven nights were spent drinking heavily and trawling bars. The days were spent with hangovers, listlessness, coca cola cravings, sporadic coughing and frustrating language barrier problem conversations with her on the phone.
The date of his return ticket was looming large. What to do? What to do? What would it mean if he went home? What would it mean if he stayed? Tony had gone back to work in Ratanakiri, she was down south of the country. He was alone and had time to think, to reflect. Happy hour began at 4.30pm in the Herb Garden, just up the road from the guesthouse. At five o‘clock he ordered a beer and sat staring at life as it passed him on the street.
As the alcohol kicked in, he thought back on his life. A multitude of memory snapshots presented themselves to his inner eye. He remembered his father’s parents. He remembered their house. The ashtray with the porcelain goldfish on it, or was it meant to be a salmon? The ashtray, usually but not always, sat on the windowsill of the window that looked out on the stunted apple tree standing in the back garden. The tree was beside a garden shed that had a lot of potential but failed to live up to it. It was always dark and musty, full of junk and a large tool box that lay on its side disgorging its rusted contents. It was as if the building had originally been built with grand designs but was never actually finished properly. ‘There’s a message in that’, he thought. He remembered the upright piano in one of the rooms. His father taught him how to play ‘Doe a deer’. As a child he would call down to see his grandparents with his father. He remembered the summers as his father would cut the grass and he would potter around the garden. Time was spent packing the cut grass away, climbing the apple tree but mainly sitting at the piano practicing ‘Doe a deer’. When he got older he used to call down and cut the grass himself. After the job was done and as his grandmother prepared him a meal he would sit at the piano and work out how chords were constructed.
As he moved from drinking beer to sipping on gin and tonics he thought of his mother’s parents. He remembered being so relaxed and at ease in that house. Even recalling the sour smell of stale cigarette smoke emanating from his grandfather’s bedroom brought a smile to his face. His grandfather made model buildings from matchsticks and lollipop sticks. An old plastic washing up liquid bottle could be covered with glue, then sand and seashells, covered with clear varnish to seal the pattern into place and suddenly manifest itself as the base of a reading lamp. It occurred to him that sometimes people could make a change in their life, for the better, but then decide that is the peak of their existence. They coat it in clear varnish and expect it to stay the same way for evermore.
He thought of friends as he fell out of the bar at 2.30am. He sent text messages to them, telling them he loved them. They replied in their own special ways. He got to thinking of the woman he had previously spent six years of his life with. He wondered how she was doing. At that moment he wished only the best for her and felt compelled to send her a text message. Her number wasn’t on his phone but he still knew it off by heart.
‘Hi Y, it’s over a year now. I am living in Cambodia. I still think of you and hope all is well with you x’.
‘U went far’, she replied immediately. ‘I am doing great. I am very happy and getting on with my life, as you are. Much stronger person now, thank God’.
He smiled as he read the text. Life is short and we should see it as an honour to meet the people in life that we do. Feeling that something had shifted in his heart he retired to bed and listened to Jeff Buckley on his iPod. Jeff caught the mood just right.
‘Remember when I moved in you
And the holy dove was moving too
And every breath we drew was hallelujah............ hallelujah, hallelujah.
The next morning he had his Cambodian visa extended by three months.
They left Siem Reap together in a shared taxi. The man who was sharing the taxi sat in the front, he was an army man. A home made tattoo of Angkor Wat was etched onto the back of his hand. He didn’t speak much but he explained that he was going to Phnom Penh on official business, something to do with the trouble on the Thai / Cambodian border.
On their first night in Phnom Penh they argued over something that had been bubbling for a while; an emotional undercurrent that neither had chosen to face up to. She left the next morning; back to Sihanoukville. No problem, Tony the Aussie was also back in town. The next seven nights were spent drinking heavily and trawling bars. The days were spent with hangovers, listlessness, coca cola cravings, sporadic coughing and frustrating language barrier problem conversations with her on the phone.
The date of his return ticket was looming large. What to do? What to do? What would it mean if he went home? What would it mean if he stayed? Tony had gone back to work in Ratanakiri, she was down south of the country. He was alone and had time to think, to reflect. Happy hour began at 4.30pm in the Herb Garden, just up the road from the guesthouse. At five o‘clock he ordered a beer and sat staring at life as it passed him on the street.
As the alcohol kicked in, he thought back on his life. A multitude of memory snapshots presented themselves to his inner eye. He remembered his father’s parents. He remembered their house. The ashtray with the porcelain goldfish on it, or was it meant to be a salmon? The ashtray, usually but not always, sat on the windowsill of the window that looked out on the stunted apple tree standing in the back garden. The tree was beside a garden shed that had a lot of potential but failed to live up to it. It was always dark and musty, full of junk and a large tool box that lay on its side disgorging its rusted contents. It was as if the building had originally been built with grand designs but was never actually finished properly. ‘There’s a message in that’, he thought. He remembered the upright piano in one of the rooms. His father taught him how to play ‘Doe a deer’. As a child he would call down to see his grandparents with his father. He remembered the summers as his father would cut the grass and he would potter around the garden. Time was spent packing the cut grass away, climbing the apple tree but mainly sitting at the piano practicing ‘Doe a deer’. When he got older he used to call down and cut the grass himself. After the job was done and as his grandmother prepared him a meal he would sit at the piano and work out how chords were constructed.
As he moved from drinking beer to sipping on gin and tonics he thought of his mother’s parents. He remembered being so relaxed and at ease in that house. Even recalling the sour smell of stale cigarette smoke emanating from his grandfather’s bedroom brought a smile to his face. His grandfather made model buildings from matchsticks and lollipop sticks. An old plastic washing up liquid bottle could be covered with glue, then sand and seashells, covered with clear varnish to seal the pattern into place and suddenly manifest itself as the base of a reading lamp. It occurred to him that sometimes people could make a change in their life, for the better, but then decide that is the peak of their existence. They coat it in clear varnish and expect it to stay the same way for evermore.
He thought of friends as he fell out of the bar at 2.30am. He sent text messages to them, telling them he loved them. They replied in their own special ways. He got to thinking of the woman he had previously spent six years of his life with. He wondered how she was doing. At that moment he wished only the best for her and felt compelled to send her a text message. Her number wasn’t on his phone but he still knew it off by heart.
‘Hi Y, it’s over a year now. I am living in Cambodia. I still think of you and hope all is well with you x’.
‘U went far’, she replied immediately. ‘I am doing great. I am very happy and getting on with my life, as you are. Much stronger person now, thank God’.
He smiled as he read the text. Life is short and we should see it as an honour to meet the people in life that we do. Feeling that something had shifted in his heart he retired to bed and listened to Jeff Buckley on his iPod. Jeff caught the mood just right.
‘Remember when I moved in you
And the holy dove was moving too
And every breath we drew was hallelujah............ hallelujah, hallelujah.
The next morning he had his Cambodian visa extended by three months.
Saturday, October 4, 2008
Lara where are you?
04/10/08
Well folks I finally got around to doing the tourist bit here in Siem Reap. The other day during the religious festival of Phchom Ben (ancestor worship) myself and Erica went to see the temples at Angkor Wat. If Cambodian families don't make an offering to the Buddha during Pchuom Ben, it is believed the souls of the dead relatives will return to haunt their descendents. It is a large festival here lasting two to three days. It is a time for family and many of the bars and shops in Siem Reap close for two days. As a result our school was closed too and we decided to avail of the time off by going to see the temples.
Of course every Cambodian in Siem Reap decided to go to the temples that day too. The main temple at Angkor Wat was thronged with local folk. Families sat on blankets on the many acres of grassland, eating picnics as children ran about the place having fun. In the distance could be seen a hot air balloon rising about 200 metres in the air. A great vantage point from which one can view the temples apparently. The main temple of Angkor Wat is huge. Incredibly huge, I mean it is really big; vast even. I can’t really explain to you in words how big it is. All I can say to you is it is huge. It was built centuries ago and I still can’t fathom how they managed to do it without the aid of cranes, lorries, diggers and all the other paraphernalia one would associate with a major building project of today. Angkor Wat is not listed as one of the modern seven wonders of the world but this I believe is because the modern seven wonders were based on a voting poll. Most Cambodians don’t have access to the internet and therefore I’m sure were not even aware of the existence of a poll. Angkor Wat definitely should be listed as one of the seven wonders. Everywhere you look faces and figures are carved into the large stones that make up each chamber or passageway.
After spending time at Angkor Wat our tuk-tuk driver brought us on to the next temple called Angkor Thom. It is surrounded by a large wall that is roughly 3kms square. We entered by the south gate which is served by a bridge with statues lined up on either side. The gate itself is relatively small and we had to queue on the bridge with everyone else and wait our turn to gain access. When we arrived at the temple we could see that elephant rides were available for 10 dollars. It had crossed my mind to experience the temples by going around on an elephant but when I saw these beasts up close and looked at their eyes I imagined I could see infinite sadness therein. I am fully aware I am guilty of anthropomorphism but they looked so old and sad that I didn’t want to play a part in what to them must be a prison sentence of some sort. We walked around the temple and took photos. As usual, they can be seen on my photo website.
Next we went to Ta Prohm. Now this was proper Tomb Raider territory. This temple was the location for one of the Lara Croft movies. The temples here are very old, dating from the 12th century. Trees are growing up through and on top of the ruins. At every turn I was expecting to meet Angelina Jolie in her tight tee-shirt and shorts inviting me to help her search for some ancient mystical treasure. It wasn’t to be so instead I took some more photos and soaked up the ambience.
After just four hours of touring the ruins we were pretty much templed out and returned to the Globalteer guesthouse. This coming Tuesday I will have finished my voluntary work, it is hard to believe that four weeks has gone by so quickly. On the other hand four weeks is a long time to stay in Siem Reap. It is a small town and can soon get boring. If it wasn’t for the work I was doing I would have been gone from here after one week. While all the volunteers are to varying degrees ‘nice’ people I couldn’t shake off a feeling of being lonely. After some reflection I realised that I missed Chaan Sras. The language barrier is ever present and therefore it is hard to gauge the level of sincerity at times but my gut feeling was that I wanted to see her again. She was delighted to receive my phone call and invitation to come back up to Siem Reap. She arrived yesterday evening after travelling 500kms to see me again. Although there is nothing to do in Siem Reap besides eat and drink we are getting on fine and enjoy each other’s company. I’m not in love I hasten to add but I have grown accustomed to her face. When I have finished here we will travel together to Phnom Penh and spend some time there again.
The date of my flight home is growing ever closer. I have mixed feelings about it. I am looking forward to being at home again amongst family and friends but on the other hand I don’t want my journey to end. The money has nearly dried up and I have investigated the possibility of working here. The pay is not great and the hours are pretty lousy. I would be expected to teach at inconvenient hours such as 7.30am to 9.30am and then again later that day at 8.30pm to 10.30pm. While I have enjoyed my experiences of teaching I don’t see myself doing it on a regular basis and being content with that. Planning lessons is a pain in the arse and I am just not motivated enough to go looking for work here. The nearest I have come to work is when a woman offered me a blow job last week. Seriously though folks, I have loved being here but staying long term I don’t believe would be agreeable to me. I am not cut out for the heat and I am walking around with constant mosquito bites, none of the sprays or creams seem to work. Those little bastards just love my blood. Being on holiday somewhere is not the same as actually living there.
As a result of my travels, my perspective on life has definitely changed for the better. I can now see a bigger picture and some things that stressed me before now appear inconsequential. Other things that I believed to be important I now regard as facile. I don’t know what the future holds for me but it isn’t half as daunting anymore.
Well folks I finally got around to doing the tourist bit here in Siem Reap. The other day during the religious festival of Phchom Ben (ancestor worship) myself and Erica went to see the temples at Angkor Wat. If Cambodian families don't make an offering to the Buddha during Pchuom Ben, it is believed the souls of the dead relatives will return to haunt their descendents. It is a large festival here lasting two to three days. It is a time for family and many of the bars and shops in Siem Reap close for two days. As a result our school was closed too and we decided to avail of the time off by going to see the temples.
Of course every Cambodian in Siem Reap decided to go to the temples that day too. The main temple at Angkor Wat was thronged with local folk. Families sat on blankets on the many acres of grassland, eating picnics as children ran about the place having fun. In the distance could be seen a hot air balloon rising about 200 metres in the air. A great vantage point from which one can view the temples apparently. The main temple of Angkor Wat is huge. Incredibly huge, I mean it is really big; vast even. I can’t really explain to you in words how big it is. All I can say to you is it is huge. It was built centuries ago and I still can’t fathom how they managed to do it without the aid of cranes, lorries, diggers and all the other paraphernalia one would associate with a major building project of today. Angkor Wat is not listed as one of the modern seven wonders of the world but this I believe is because the modern seven wonders were based on a voting poll. Most Cambodians don’t have access to the internet and therefore I’m sure were not even aware of the existence of a poll. Angkor Wat definitely should be listed as one of the seven wonders. Everywhere you look faces and figures are carved into the large stones that make up each chamber or passageway.
After spending time at Angkor Wat our tuk-tuk driver brought us on to the next temple called Angkor Thom. It is surrounded by a large wall that is roughly 3kms square. We entered by the south gate which is served by a bridge with statues lined up on either side. The gate itself is relatively small and we had to queue on the bridge with everyone else and wait our turn to gain access. When we arrived at the temple we could see that elephant rides were available for 10 dollars. It had crossed my mind to experience the temples by going around on an elephant but when I saw these beasts up close and looked at their eyes I imagined I could see infinite sadness therein. I am fully aware I am guilty of anthropomorphism but they looked so old and sad that I didn’t want to play a part in what to them must be a prison sentence of some sort. We walked around the temple and took photos. As usual, they can be seen on my photo website.
Next we went to Ta Prohm. Now this was proper Tomb Raider territory. This temple was the location for one of the Lara Croft movies. The temples here are very old, dating from the 12th century. Trees are growing up through and on top of the ruins. At every turn I was expecting to meet Angelina Jolie in her tight tee-shirt and shorts inviting me to help her search for some ancient mystical treasure. It wasn’t to be so instead I took some more photos and soaked up the ambience.
After just four hours of touring the ruins we were pretty much templed out and returned to the Globalteer guesthouse. This coming Tuesday I will have finished my voluntary work, it is hard to believe that four weeks has gone by so quickly. On the other hand four weeks is a long time to stay in Siem Reap. It is a small town and can soon get boring. If it wasn’t for the work I was doing I would have been gone from here after one week. While all the volunteers are to varying degrees ‘nice’ people I couldn’t shake off a feeling of being lonely. After some reflection I realised that I missed Chaan Sras. The language barrier is ever present and therefore it is hard to gauge the level of sincerity at times but my gut feeling was that I wanted to see her again. She was delighted to receive my phone call and invitation to come back up to Siem Reap. She arrived yesterday evening after travelling 500kms to see me again. Although there is nothing to do in Siem Reap besides eat and drink we are getting on fine and enjoy each other’s company. I’m not in love I hasten to add but I have grown accustomed to her face. When I have finished here we will travel together to Phnom Penh and spend some time there again.
The date of my flight home is growing ever closer. I have mixed feelings about it. I am looking forward to being at home again amongst family and friends but on the other hand I don’t want my journey to end. The money has nearly dried up and I have investigated the possibility of working here. The pay is not great and the hours are pretty lousy. I would be expected to teach at inconvenient hours such as 7.30am to 9.30am and then again later that day at 8.30pm to 10.30pm. While I have enjoyed my experiences of teaching I don’t see myself doing it on a regular basis and being content with that. Planning lessons is a pain in the arse and I am just not motivated enough to go looking for work here. The nearest I have come to work is when a woman offered me a blow job last week. Seriously though folks, I have loved being here but staying long term I don’t believe would be agreeable to me. I am not cut out for the heat and I am walking around with constant mosquito bites, none of the sprays or creams seem to work. Those little bastards just love my blood. Being on holiday somewhere is not the same as actually living there.
As a result of my travels, my perspective on life has definitely changed for the better. I can now see a bigger picture and some things that stressed me before now appear inconsequential. Other things that I believed to be important I now regard as facile. I don’t know what the future holds for me but it isn’t half as daunting anymore.
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