Boddhi Tree Del Gusto, Phnom Penh, Cambodia
Last night, I slept with my tripod within reach. The fact that I didn’t have a door to my room eventually had me convinced that it’s a little crazy (I’m crazy). What the hell am I doing alone in a third-world country without a door to my hotel room?! Am I a walking disaster waiting to happen? Idealist? Not this morning, nu-uh.
Did I mention that roaming doesn’t work on my mobile phone?
So yes, I’m cut out from the outside world. Alone. Without television, a phone, a radio, a companion and guts. I need some really strong coffee this morning.
I got dressed and climbed down the ladder and ordered breakfast. As I munched on some deliciously soft crusty baguette I felt a little better. The hotel staffs were friendly and ask me how I slept (fine thanks, I lied). Vuthy asked what I’d be doing for the day and I said that I’ll like to go to LCDI – the school that I meant to visit.
Interestingly enough Vuthy, or ‘Fourteen’ – a nickname he was given during his schooldays because of his hockey jersey – was a former student and volunteered to take me there. If I could wait for him after his shift that day? He asked with a smile.
Oh why not?
He’s cute.
To fill in the time, I walked to the Russian market. On the way and carefully avoiding the genocide museum, I walked into a wat – or, a Buddhist temple – and was stopped by the stench of urine. I later realised that everywhere was a toilet if you had a penis. So when you see a man up a wall, please do yourself some service and look away.
You can’t miss the market. It’s huge. First I walked through the fresh market and came upon this black strange-looking catfish. Placed in a shallow basket, I first thought they were dead until I saw one jumped out from the basket and onto the dirt floor crawling its way through throngs of slippers. I was horror-struck! What kind of fish does that? The fish monger casually picked it up with a plastic bag and put it into the basket.
(Apparently this was a common thing as I saw more attempted escapees)
The Russian market was great if you’re a shopper. You’ll find everything you need and don’t need in here. Shoes, clothes, rubies, CDs, crickets, ancient wartime trinkets, fried frogs, preserved cockles – you get the picture. I managed to get a pair of Puma (USD$10), Birkenstocks (USD$5) and three scarves (USD$4.50). I liked a few a little too much so I thought that’s a good indication that it was time to go.
I don’t think one can ever get use to this heat (sorry, just me then). Though this place, the Boddhi Tree Del Gusto is like a little piece of heaven. Beyond the walls is dust and motordups. Inside, the tiniest space is embraced by trees, plants and flowers.
Sitting under the shade in a hidden corner, I made the mistake of being too friendly.
I had a new friend. Black and ugly, it adopted me as Mom (it jumped on my chest and started sucking or licking – whatever). It looked more like a bat than a cat, so I called the evil thing ‘Bat Cat’. Damn the bloody tropics, I spy a gecko.
With nothing left to do, I ordered a beer with lunch. I spent a few lazy lethargic moments in The Attic before deciding that I needed to talk to someone. I itch to connect with another human being. Bats and geckoes are really not my type of intellectual stimulation. Solitary confinement is too cruel.
I thought I tried my luck with an Asian girl who seemed friendly enough (it’s all about calculated risk). I came up with some absurd words (which almost sounded like a pick-up line) and Gabby must have picked up on my desperation. We hit it off instantly. Her companion, Denis (pronounced as ‘Dennis’) is a French-Canadian from Montreal and both, thankfully, likes their laughter loud. They’ve been in Cambodia for six to twelve months and I found out that Father Denis enjoy his beers just like he enjoys his vocation.
It was an absolutely delight. We talked about our beliefs, faiths, thoughts and ideas and it seemed we had so much in common. We ‘flocked’ for the rest of the afternoon.
Gabby, who by profession a counsellor, decided that life was more meaningful to serve, shared her experiences as a missionary in Cambodia. She told me how nothing gets out or comes in through the local post system. Stamps from letters are re-sold by clerks when postmarks are deliberately left un-stamped. Officials and members of the military are known to be corrupted. Lands are sold off without the original owners’ consent or even knowledge so much so many families are left homeless. The poor becomes poorer, the rich, richer. So like almost every country in South-East Asia, it is infested with economic cancer and inequality in human rights.
The Attic
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