Idle is as idle does

22 November 2008
Okay, it’s been a while folks but to be honest I have nothing really of interest to report of late. I have basically been spending my time cultivating idleness, reading voraciously, lounging, slouching and generally luxuriating in not being employed. Oh such a life of wonder, dreaming, self-educating and personal growth I could indulge in for the rest of my natural life if only I had the funds. Everyone reading this; please feel free to deposit a few euro into my account on a monthly basis so that I may continue this hedonistic lifestyle. You will be rewarded with my eternal gratitude.

Of course it isn’t all good over here. Before coming to Cambodia I had read about the potential for crime and violence. Luckily I have seen practically none of that sort of stuff. I have come across small scams and tricks though. For example, the day I came back from Chan Sras’s sister’s wedding (by the way I just found out she is only sixteen) I found that the petrol tank in the motorbike I had rented was now empty. It had been full the day before. Last week Tony came down to S’ville from Ratanakiri for a few days. Having the motorbike it was handy for both of us to get around. When I met him at the bus station one of the moto-drivers approached me and asked that I give him some money because I was doing him out of work by driving a motorbike myself and picking someone up at the station. I just smiled and wished him a good day.

One night Tony, Chan Sras and I went to a bar called The Kangaroo Kitchen, it is a bar owned by some Aussies. When we decided to leave I found that my back tyre was flat; it had been fine when we arrived. Chan Sras drove my moto, (because she is lighter) and I drove hers, Tony went on alone to the next bar. Chan Sras brought me to some guys who were sitting at the side of the road. They replaced the inner tube which had a large hole in it. This cost me seven dollars. Grand, I thought, at least that’s sorted. The very next night Tony and I went back to the same bar. When we went to settle our bills we noticed that we had both been short changed. After calling attention to this, they apologised and gave the correct change. Going out to the motorbike, the security guard approached us and said that my back tyre was looking a bit soft, he knew someone that could fix it for me. Upon checking it I said that it was fine. About 300 yards down the road the back tyre was flat. Feeling a bit pissed off we pushed the bike back to the bar. We had a few words with the owner of the bar who apologised about the incorrect change but wouldn’t entertain my back tyre conspiracy theory. Being somewhat angry I refused to let anyone fix the tyre for me. Tony and I took turns at pushing the motorbike back to my guesthouse, three miles away. I was literally soaked in sweat by the time I got back to my room. The next morning one of the guys working at the guesthouse changed the inner tube for me because the previous new one had a large hole in it. This cost me five dollars. I have not been back to The Kangaroo Kitchen since.

I was glad my rental period for the motorbike expired the other day as it was always at the back of my mind that it would cost me a lot of money if something bad should happen to the bike or worse still, it was stolen. There was a lock with the bike but even then it was in my mind that the guy who rented it to me could have a spare key and steal the bike from me someday and then look for eight hundred dollars should I not produce the bike at the end of the rental agreement. As it was, he tried to get a few extra dollars out of me when he came to collect the bike. Written on the rental agreement were the dates 20/10/08 to 20/11/08. When he came to pick the bike up (only after I rang and asked him to come collect it) he claimed that I had the bike for more than one month, I had the bike for one month and one day was how he looked at it. I showed him my copy of the agreement and my signature thereon. That is what we had agreed to. He had my passport in his shirt pocket; I held the keys to the bike. A psychological battle of staring each other out thus ensued. I wasn’t budging, nor was he. When Chan Sras came down to the court yard to see what was going on, he backed down and gave me my passport; with a small but polite bow I gave him back his keys.

I now make it a point to double check my change at shops, bars and restaurants. The other night I had a beer and something to eat at a bar called G’day Mate. I had frequented this bar several times before and always tipped the girls when leaving. This particular night I checked my change and was a dollar short. I called attention to this; they apologised and gave me the correct change. I didn’t tip, nor have I been back to that bar. I am not complaining too much folks. If that’s the worst that happens to me then I am happy enough. I must admit though I am genuinely surprised that my laptop has not been stolen yet.

Sihanoukville is essentially a party town for tourists and all the hopes I had of sitting down quietly and writing didn’t really transpire. It has always been at the back of my mind that I need to pull my socks up and get proactive about finding some work. I had applied to two schools in Phnom Penh but had heard nothing back from them. The other day I decided to go to the local market and purchase a pair of shoes so that I may look respectable when looking for work when I return to the capital city. Could I find a pair of shoes in S’ville that actually fit me? No, would have to be the definitive answer to that question. Everyone here apparently has very small feet. Last Monday my phone rang, I didn’t recognise the number. It was one of the schools asking if I could call in tomorrow for an interview. I explained that I was in S’ville and would continue to be for the next week or so. No problem they explained, could I give them a call when I returned to Phnom Penh? Why of course I would be delighted to. This week has been spent drinking less and going to bed earlier in an attempt to detoxify and get my act together. Apart from going to the interview I intend to call into all the other schools I find and make them aware of my presence and willingness to work. Fingers crossed folks.

As I have said before, nothing much of interest has been happening of late but I know that when I read somebody else’s blog it is always nice to have some pictures to look at too. To this end I have included some pictures of the Golden Lion Roundabout here in Sihanoukville. It is the main landmark in this town and is situated between the beach area and downtown. The other photos are off Chan Sras and her friends when they called to my room for a bite to eat and a few beers.
They called at 11.30am bringing with them some beers and what I can only describe as offal and some rice. I graciously declined their offer of some food but to avoid being rude I accepted the beer. It turned out to be a pleasant two hours sitting around talking; Chan Sras doing the translating for me as the girls had very little English. They laughed when I sat on a pillow on the tiled floor. They may be used to sitting on hard floors all their lives but I’m not. Afterwards, as I waved them goodbye from the balcony, I had that nice four beers around midday feeling. Why can’t everyone live like this I wondered. They ate their meal at a leisurely rate and the conversation was more important than the food. I know the same sort of attitude exists in the likes of Spain and Italy but I have never really seen it in Ireland. For me lunchtime in Ireland consisted of going out to the shops to get a ready- made meal or sandwich and sitting at the PC at my desk in work while scoffing down the food along with a coke or a cup of tea. At home in the evenings I would eat my dinner while watching the television; it didn’t matter whether somebody else was sitting at the table or not. These Cambodian girls could sit back and relax with pleasant company and conversation before going back to work after consuming three or four beers.

While I have been doing very little physically I have been doing a lot mentally. I realise now that I have spent years doing jobs I really didn’t want to do. Every Sunday evening I would get depressed because it was only a matter of hours before I had to go back to work again. I worked because that was what was expected of me. I worked because I had to pay bills. I worked because I thought I needed to buy certain products that would make me happier. I worked and worked, never really realising that I was missing out on life. I am only going to be on this planet for a certain number of years and why should I waste them working to get the money to pay for things I don’t really need? I am not saying that I want to be a total drop out and live the life of a bum but I now know that I need to get my priorities in order and stop being a slave to the consumer mindset that insists I try to accumulate as much as possible. I am willing to work but more on my terms please. I stand alone, an individual, and I’m happy with that. I now see others as stand-alone individuals too, whether they are married or alone. This serves to enrich my relationships with friends and family.

See what happens when you don’t have to work?