After that depressing interlude, I had my moto-driver
putt-putt me home to my hotel. I sat in the hotel's
cafe and pondered. I drank grape-flavored Crush soda
and looked out at the neighborhood.
The buildings here are all very similar, four floors,
concrete, look kinda French, peeling yellow paint.
Balconies.
Balconies with people sitting and gawking, doing their
laundry, playing cards, watering their plants, raising
a chicken or two. Everything could use a coat of
paint.
And what happened to the pavement? Where did it go?
I know that there was asphalt there once, what
happened to it? If you see it, please return it.
The streets look like something out of the wild west.
Dusty, dirty, stray dogs and 100 cc motorcycles being
shunted aside occasionally by a UNICEF vehicle or some
rich bastard in a Toyota "Crown". Now this is crumbling
infrastructure.
The current scoop: All of the bars and Karaoke joints
have been ordered closed by the Government. No
arrests, but closed anyway. Seems that they were not
paying their taxes. How could this be? After all, it
is widely believed that the same guy who owns the
Karaoke bars is the same guy who runs the amphetamine
and cocaine trade. He is also the President's son. Oh.
Tomorrow I take "the fast boat" to Siem Riep.
The boat should get me there around noon, I have a
room reserved at "The Happy Guesthouse" for when I
arrive.
Until then, I shall stay in my room and watch CNN
while wearing my fake Rolex watch and Tin Tin t-shirt.
For my last night in Phnom Penh I ate dinner over at
the Foreign Correspondents Club, very civilized. Good
food, a great bar and, while drinking lemon freezes, I
counted 15 geckos on the wall, a new record for me. I
left Phnom Penh the next morning.
Logging in from Siem Reap now. I took the boat ride
from Phnom Penh up to here, $23.00, fast and loud. The
boat wastes no time getting up here, the airline-style
seats are comfortable and they show continuous kung fu
movies. I spent most of my time riding on the roof of
the boat, holding on for dear life, watching as the
skipper narrowly avoided collisions with fishermen in
small boats.
The trip takes about five hours. At some vague
landmark, we turned to starboard and cut the engines.
We had nearly arrived in Siem Reap, but first we had
to piddle through a floating village of houseboats
filled with Vietnamese families. Very cool and
photogenic.
When we docked, (rammed up into the mud is more
accurate, there is no dock) a man with a "Joe Ehrlich"
sign and a Honda motorcycle was waiting to take me to
my guesthouse, the "Happy Guesthouse". This URL-less
place is clean, has cold running water and pretty
decent food.
Cambodia is odd, for a variety of reasons, but the
oddity that I keep coming back to is the odd way that
money is handled here. First of all, no ATM's.
Of course, it wasn't that long ago when California had
no ATMS, but just try to live without one now. Oh
sure, you can write a check, but not here in Cambodia.
Here, one visits the bank! One visits the bank, where
dozens of scruffy travelers such as myself have the
same idea.
I presented my passport as ID and filled out some
forms. I needed $250 (child brides aren't cheap, you
know) and for the service charge, I paid $5.00 and
signed some forms. The bank clerk didn't like my
signature at all. My signed forms apparently didn't
match the signature in my passport, and the guy in the
passport photo was nine years younger and
clean-shaven. I ended up signing my name (quickly and
beautifully, I might add) for the man six more times
before he handed over the money.
Money in U.S. dollars. Dollars are accepted everywhere
and prices are listed in dollars. The Khmer riel is
shunted off to a "change" function. If you owe $12.50,
for example, you pay US$12.00 and 2,000 Khmer riel.
Very odd, but it fills your pocket with sorta useless
local currency. The 100 and 200 Khmer rial notes are
freely given to the land mine victims, who are all
around town, hopping frantically after us tourists.
Went to dinner last night with another backpacker.
We went to a place that specialized in complete menus,
but no real theme. The restaurant listed Italian,
Thai, Khmer and Continental food on the menu. They
also served the backpacker favorite, 'Happy Pizza', a
regular pizza but sprinkled with certain oregano
substitute. (You can order it "Extra Happy" if you
have nowhere to go for a day or so.) After dinner, we
retired to the Guest House veranda to inhale some
pizza toppings and listen for barking geckos (Yes,
they bark. News to me also).
Questions?
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