This morning I decided to have scrambled eggs fo breakfast. It's so nice having it provided by the guesthouse. Breakfasts are always provided by hotels but this is the first guesthouse I've known do it. I picked up the pepper pot and shook the living daylights out of it - then I found out it was salt. It pays to wear my glasses! I ate it but it wasn't the same as it would have been with pepper. There was a group of young ladies from either S. Korea or Japan, hanging about on a balcony and they kept waving at me.
I thought I'd have to make my own way to the bus station for 8am but, when I talked to the manager, he said he'd phone the bus company and they would pick me up. On the dot a bone rattling, ancient van, that never stopped vibrating, picked me up and drove me to the main bus depot. A young boy was in my seat so he ended up sitting on his grandmother's lap. She also had a large bag stuffed in front of her feet so she wasn't going anywhere. I suppose it's everywhere in this part of the world; people just don't worry about having no personal space. She didn't know it but I was getting off after 3 hours so she could have my seat for the other 4 hours on the way to Phnom Penh. I wonder if I've written about why the city is called this name? There have been lots of capitals in the Angkor Empire and when this one was created there was a princess who is fondly known nowadays as Auntie Penh. She had a large hill built and on the top is a pagoda and it was called Wat Phnom. So now we have Phnom Penh.
Nowadays I'm usually in a car or express bus. The express buses are usually used by foreigners or locals with a bit more money; they therefore stop for coffee breaks at more salubrious establishments. This time I was on a local, ordinary bus and so we stopped at an ordinary restaurant. I rarely buy food or drink as I've always eaten before I left and I know I'm going to be fed at the end of the trip. On the other hand, Cambodians seem to take every stop as a time to eat and drink.
I walked through the restaurant to the toilet and gave some thought to the tables and stools. I've been in this place many times and I can never get over the furniture. The tables are slices of trees about 15cms thick - no attempt has been made to round off the edges so they are convoluted just like the tree would have been. Each table is at least 1.5m in diameter and there are over 50 of these tables. Each table has 8 stools and each stool is about 30cms tall and about 25cms in diameter. I just wonder how many trees are there? There are also long, oblong tables that are about 1m wide and 3m long - each one is a slice of a tree. All the stools have fancy legs that have been turned on a lathe so I can't imagine the amount of dust.
In the older parts of Canada cities, before someone decided every house had to be a murky, dirty brown, grey or black, the houses are quite colourful. They are colourful here but there is a difference; in Canada somebody has an idea of what colours go together. Here it seems to me they want colours to clash, to stand out and make a statement. Newer homes are nowadays made of cement, as it's cheaper than wood, and they are brightly painted. Imagine brown and orange - not just the window frames and the doors, but the entire house. There's lime green and pink, dark purple with a lighter purple. It reminded me of an old philosophical expression. "Do I live in an ugly home, looking across the street at a lovely home, or do I live in a lovely home and look across at an ugly home. Having to stare at a purple house all day makes me think it's better to live in the ugly home.
Boroith left for a wedding in another province; he went with a van full of work colleagues. I suppose one of his friends in marrying a girl from that province so that's where the wedding will be - the women have a lot of pull here. I couldn't be bothered phoning Sreyneth to pick me up so I walked to their place. They are always working at their riverside cafe so I sat with them for a while. Life for me with this family follows a pattern. My bag is taken and put upstairs in the bedroom, my sandals are removed and I'm presented with flip flops and then I'm given something to eat, regardless of the time. Today it was pork spare ribs, chicken soup, salad, rice and watermelon.
I think there's an age limit for the cafe as I only ever see young adults - mainly men. They come along on their motorbikes and then they help themselves to a drink or some cigarettes. Sreyneth or her mother just take the money from them. If they want a coconut they get the knife and prepare it themselves. They are all regulars and so they chat back and forth and tease mother. Nobody buys a packet of cigarettes bur rather two or three - they pay a round $1 for three. They go into the picnic areas, relax in the hammock and have a natter and then they are on their way again.
I'm glad Boroith used my money gift wisely; he's fixed up his bedroom so now the walls are solid and it has a ceiling plus air conditioning. Boroith and Sreyneth always let me have their room and they sleep with their two sons on the same mattress. I've given up complaining or feeling guilty as they want me to have the comfort.
It's that time of year when we are constantly in the shower. I just go in, turn on the cold water, turn around 3 times and dry myself. Cambodians do the same thing but each time they put on different clothes - I stick to the same clothes as I'm British. The boys have just come home from school - it's Saturday but they go all day. This afternoon I saw them off at 1pm and it's now 6pm and they've just got back. What a life! Now they are speaking a bit of English so I can have fun with them. Boridth, the oldest, who is about six, ignored me completely for about five years and I decided to do the same with him. Suddenly, last year, he decided to be friendly and we get along well now. I think it's a bit like dealing with a dog - let it come to you!
Last night I went down memory lane on YouTube and watched "This is your life" with Ken Dodd. I always remember his tickling stick which was actually a duster on a stick. He used to say, "How tickled I am." It was an hour long and I was amazed how many well known people came and said such nice things about him. I checked and found out he died at the age of 90 last year. He'd had a girlfriend for over 40 years and, two days before he died, he married her so she wouldn't lose any of his money, which would have gone in inheritance tax. Crafty bugger! It turned out he was worth around 25 million pounds so she's ended up with a load of money. She's only 76 so hopefully she can live long enough to enjoy it. I think the old time comedians were far better than modern day ones - in Canada I rarely laugh at a comedian and if I'm watching a British one I can hardly understand them as they speak so quickly. One nice thing about Ken Dodd is that he was born and died in the same suburb of Liverpool - that's saying something for a man who was born to a coal miner and ended up a multi millionaire.
Boroith came back in the early evening but he went straight to a wedding, a funeral and a house warming. His in-laws also attended another funeral. He's now passed out so I think I'll go to bed.
