One day I’ll have a dream that makes sense.

Ponleu typing his two sentences

I've just picked up Ponleu (9) from his home across the street.  He'll be spending tonight here and tomorrow I'll take him to the dentist.  It amazes me how calm he is about the whole thing.  He was there a couple of weeks ago and had four baby teeth removed and tomorrow there may be another three.

He's full of wisdom.  "Peter, are you single?"  I told him I was.  "But you shouldn't be because you can't have children to carry on your name."  I told him I had a few brothers and sisters doing a good job for me with this so I didn't have to bother.  I've just chased him into the bathroom for a shower.  He opened the door and said, "Go and do something; this will take a long time, I have to poo!"  He's just told me I have ten more years and that's enough time to find a wife as he wants to meet my kids.   Little kids do help to bring a bit of sanity into this world.

Last night I had a few minutes to spare so I watched a short inspirational video.  It said I had to wake up slowly and calmly and to tell myself I was going to have a good day.  "Take control of your life!  Don't let life control you!"   The phone rang.  I staggered out of bed in the dark and found my phone.  It was 4.40am.  It was a call from England but the other party didn't pick up.  I went back to bed and then, for some strange reason my phone decided I should get up - it was 5.30am.  From then on, every few minutes an alarm went off on the phone.   I've no idea what was going on.

I presume you've heard that we are supposed to keep a note book by our bed so that we can wake up and write down meaningful dreams as they are telling us something about life.  In the early hours of the morning I found myself in a town I'd not visited before with an enormous hotel.  I asked a lady what the place was called and she told me to look at the name on the hotel - Hotel Quack.  In the stores people were grabbing up items with images of ducks on them.  It turned out to be a town where the main industry was the production of eider down.  For those non-Europeans, that's the soft feathers from the eider duck which were used to make winter clothing, bedding etc.   How is this dream supposed to tell me something?  It's absolutely idiotic.   So the idea of having a meaningful waking up was lost.  

Phearak and Srun came over for their English lesson and I was pleasantly surprised when I had them reading sentences; they did quite well.  I've finally got Phearak to say, "I don't understand", which is a huge victory as they don't want to offend me.  

When they went back to work I had to do some grocery shopping.  I don't like walking on the streets so I go down the back alleys.  Behind the shopping facade there is another world of linking alleys where people live.   They are very narrow and little light gets to them.  People spend most of their life in the alley as they can buy all the food they need, whether cooked or uncooked.  Traders walk or cycle through selling their wares.  One lady has a stall where she does manicures.  It's sad that the tourists stick to walking down the streets, looking in the shop windows, instead of seeing the real world at the back.

When I came home I found a lizard in my sink.  The sink is quite deep so the poor thing couldn't get out.  I spent about 15 minutes trying to catch it but it would have nothing to do with it.  I finally managed to scoop it up on a plate and it then jumped onto the floor and disappeared.  I like them around as they eat the ants.  Here in Cambodia we can't leave anything out on the counter as the ants arrive in droves.  Even a single crumb will attract them.  I go around plugging up small holes with toothpaste but they find another way out.

Ponleu says he wants to write two sentences:

Sometimes i thought that every needle hurt at the dentist.  But when i went to the dentist , the needle doesn't hurt, only like an ant bite and after that my mom buy me some candy.   

(So much for stopping tooth decay!)

I think I should end this while I'm still winning.  Last night, the final words Ponleu said to me were, "Peter, I've got lice!"  

As a reminder, there are a number of ways to read my writings.  If we are friends on Facebook you can find it.  If I forget to post it, you can get it at peterheyes.blogspot.com.  Another way is to go to this feed and register by entering your email address.  (https://feedburner.google.com/fb/a/mailverifyuri=PetersMemories

An eating out day

I didn't see a single cow in Bali

I had taken my breakfast onto the balcony when the phone rang. It was Thornin and he was standing across the road. He was going to eat outside so I put everything back into the fridge and joined him. My neighbours downstairs cook breakfast and lunch for local people. We sat at tables, set up on the pavement, and had bbq'd pork and rice. It comes with a small bowl of soup and a little dish of pickles, plus a glass of tea. In all local eating places in Cambodia tea is free. As a tea drinker it's a great treat. In Canada I order tea and I'm brought a tea pot and mug. I don't drink with my meal because my Grandfather said that was the way they fattened their pigs. At the end of the meal I pour the tea but it's just water; hidden behind the pot is the teabag. One of these days Canadian restaurants will know how to make tea. I have a friend who says, "If you don't warm the pot, if you don't put the tea bag in the pot, and if you don't take the pot to the kettle, then don't bring me the tea." It's lovely sitting outside watching the world go by. Across the street a family squeezes juice from oranges for sale; every day they have thousands of the green oranges that have delicious juice. I should take a photo some time.

Thornin was still here at lunch time so off we went to a friend's vegetarian restaurant. It always tickles me how the vegetarian places in Asia always want things to look like meat or fish. Why can't it just look like what it is - i.e. mostly soya products? I enjoy the vegetarian food here as it's loaded with mushrooms.

For dinner I decided to take three friends for an Indian meal at the Taj Mahal restaurant. We had pakoras, which were slices of eggplant dipped in batter and deep fried, potato samosas with lovely flaky pastry, a vegetable and a beef curry with huge pieces of butter naan and finally a dessert. The dessert was too sweet for my friends so I enjoyed eating most of it. Three of us have been to India so one of my friends wanted to try out his Hindi. The man didn't respond - it turned out it's owned by Pakistanis. When I'm in England, and I have an "Indian" meal, the restaurant is very often owned by Bangladeshi people. I suppose it's safer for them to say they provide Indian food.

Talking about beef; it reminded me of the fact that I never saw a single cow in Bali. With it being a Hindu island the cow is sacred. It's the same in India but there the cows roam freely all over the place. I've no idea where they were in Bali; they were never on the menu.

Insurance has become a big thing in Cambodia. One of the companies is Canadian and I really don't like the way they operate there - everything is set up in a pyramid system. They hire young people who live on any commission they earn. In turn they try to get a team together because they take some of the commission from those below - it's awful. Now, a stock market has set up. I can work for it by getting people to buy shares; if they do I get $15. Knowing Cambodia and the corruption here, I wouldn't go anywhere near this job.

On the BBC this morning there was "The Global Philosophers' Club". They brought together, via video, representatives from almost forty countries to talk about different topics. The moderator was based in the USA and I have a feeling the topics were chosen because of President Trump's recent activities. One subject was the burning of a national flag. It was interesting that 70 per cent said it was wrong and 30 per cent thought it was right to burn the flag if you disagreed with what your country was doing. While they were discussing, it struck me that I've only seen people burn the flags of other countries and never their own. Another subject was hate speech and it was surprising that 30% said it was OK. They all had very rational reasons for saying it was right or wrong.

One man said that anyone should be allowed to speak on a university campus because students are meant to study outside their comfort zone. He said it was wonderful to argue back and forth, to disagree or agree and even to listen to hateful statements. He must be going to a very special university. I can only remember one class during my entire university career where I was expected to speak. That was a class about comparative education. We studied the education system in Canada, the UK and other places. I was the only one in the class over the age of 23 and it really irritated me to hear 20 year olds go on about the British education system. I don't think any of them had a clue what they were talking about. I decided I couldn't stand it so I shut up. When we had the exam I got my paper back and the professor had written on it, "I wish you had said something." That was a big lesson for me.

I've just given Samnang the doggy bag of leftover curries. He'll enjoy them but I bet he has a criticism or two.

Glorious rain today in Phnom Penh

I thought I'd use a photo I had taken in the restaurant when I took the three lads for dinner.  I now understand why parents love to have their children in school.  I was only with them for an hour and I had to put up with the two older ones arguing with each other.  Ponleu, the 9 year old, just sat, smiled and ate.  After the photo was taken, Samnang the oldest said, "And don't tag me if you put it on Facebook."  He's on safe grounds as I haven't a clue what he's talking about.

It's amazing what a one hour difference in time can make to my internal clock.  In Bali we were just one hour earlier than here but it's really having an impact on my daily life in Phnom Penh, even though I was only away for four days.  Before 9am I'm ready for bed and I'm awake before daylight comes.  This morning I woke up in pitch darkness and decided, if I wasn't asleep in five minutes, I'd get up.  I ended up getting up because there was a clap of thunder at 6am and the heaven's opened.  My apartment is a loft type place so there's no ceilings except in the bedroom which is in the centre of the apartment.  The noise of the rain, bashing on the roof, keeps me awake so there was no point in staying in bed.

Moving around the globe I've noticed the different smells that come from people's homes.  In Nigeria the foreign teachers couldn't stand the African "smell" and I suppose the locals felt the same way about the foreigners.  When I first came to Cambodia I used to wake up around 5am with a nauseous feeling in my stomach.  It was caused by the smell of food being cooked below my window by neighbours.  It was mainly bbq'd pork covered with home made sauces but there were also other smells such as rice, soups and vegetables.  I really didn't appreciate it.  Nowadays, I'm in a bedroom with air conditioning so I have to keep the door closed but, when I move into the kitchen, the smells waft through the door and window.  I don't mind now, it's all a part of living here.

As usual, I marched up and down the apartment listening to the BBC.  My Bluetooth lady is still speaking in Chinese so I presume it's going to be permanent.  This morning I listened to an interview with Jason Taylor who is an artist specialising in installations under the sea.  He has created human figures, made of metal, and they are sitting on the seabed.  You have to be a snorkelling person to see them.  He was describing the fish who come to the figures to nibble food from the algae growing on the figures.  It made me laugh because last year I took three of my sisters to Siem Reap and we dangled our feet in a large tank to have fish nibble at them.  My sisters thought it was totally weird but you get used to it and it's fascinating feeling the little nibbles the fish make.  I moved into another tank with larger fish and they chomped rather than nibbled; my sisters declined.  I had an embarrassing time when I did it in Indonesia.  I joined a group of young people, who were enjoying having fish around their feet.  As soon as I put my feet into the water, all the fish left my friends and had a feeding frenzy on my old skin - they were left without a single fish on their feet.

In one interview a guest said her parents "made do" during the war.  Looking around this apartment I would say that I'm still doing it.  Most people I know in the West have stoves and ovens; some have enormous stoves with different ovens and lots of places to put pans.  I have a single hot plate and no oven.  I do have a microwave and so, if I cook more than one dish, I can heat things up again.  Cambodians are lucky in that they don't care if their cooked food is hot or cold.  It certainly makes life more simple when you know you can't do anything complicated.

In the same interview the guests were asked to say what music they were raised on.  An American said it was the marching high school band he belonged to, a lady from New Zealand said it was Maori songs.  Another said it was Johnny Cash songs as his parents didn't understand each other's language when they met and it was the songs that brought them together.  For me I think it would be the brass bands in the North of England - every factory, coal mine had one.  I still love brass band music and the film "Brassed Off" is one of my all time favourite films.

8pm and I've just got back from the meeting.  They tried to have it in English but, when more than two Cambodians are together it invariably goes back to Khmer.  When it happens I just switch off and go into my own world; they'll let me know if I need to know what's happening.  At the moment they are planning an exchange programme with Thai youth and a local outreach weekend with around 40 Cambodian university students.  I'm always impressed with the way they operate and I always have a good time with them.

When I arrived home I passed the kitchen of the family downstairs.  The husband is from Cambodia and the wife from the Philippines.  The husband is cooking fried fish and, because the kitchen is open to the staircase, the really strong smell is drifting upstairs into my place.  I've opened the kitchen door and closed the bedroom door so I hope to get rid of the fishy smell before bedtime.

As a reminder, there are a number of ways to read my writings.  If we are friends on Facebook you can find it.  If I forget to post it, you can get it at peterheyes.blogspot.com.  Another way is to go to this feed and register by entering your email address.

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I’m back to mopping the floors and no air conditioning

A funny thing happened this morning - by the way, does anyone remember a hilarious movie from the old days called, "A funny thing happened on the way to the Forum"? It was a take on the early days in Rome.

Anyway...... I put on my Bluetooth headphones this morning and switched them on so I could listen to the BBC World Service. Usually, I hear someone speaking English in a very Chinese way. Well today, she finally gave up trying; she's now speaking to me in Chinese and I haven't a clue what she's on about.

I did my morning 1 1/2 hours walking and I really felt like a shower but, what's the point when the floors need washing? I did the floors and then had my shower and breakfast. It was a treat sitting on the balcony, in my shorts, and not giving a single thought to the snowbound Albertans. It was soon 10.30am. Normally my Protestant ethic steps in and I start to panic but today I thought, "So what!" I was even relaxing, reading the news, when the two lads came over at 12.30pm for their English class; I'd completely forgotten about them. I used my Bali photographs and we had a nice chat time.

This morning, while walking, I listened to an excellent BBC programme on WW 1. I love the radio as I can use my imagination and this programme had a lot to do with imagination. They had old interviews with veterans and one could imagine what they had gone through. We think of the war as one involving Europe but there was a lot of fighting in Africa because of the German colonies there. I felt sorry for the Africans as they were just rounded up and forced to be porters or fight. Some soldiers came from Hong Kong. To get to the war they had to sail to Vancouver, go across Canada by train and cross the Atlantic to the UK. There, they entered the war not even speaking English and having so many cultural differences. They spoke about the trauma of war and I can remember Bill and Jean Duncan talking about Bill's return from the war. He was so traumatised by what he'd experienced in the trenches that he and Jean never slept in the same bedroom as he always had nightmares and woke up howling. He said it was mainly because of the horror he saw involving horses unable to cope with the mud and drowning. Nowadays, so many people play games on computers, and they usually involve fighting and killing. They should all listen to this programme to understand the reality of war.

There was one funny commentary from a British soldier who said he was walking through a field when a man came by on a grey horse. He shouted, "It's finished, you know." The soldier said, "What's finished?" The man galloped by shouting, "The war!" One senior medical person decided to take four women to the front to show that they could handle anything the men had to deal with. It was fascinating listening to one of the ladies. She lived in the same clothes for three weeks and another lady had to help her take her vest off as it was stuck to her back and was coming off with the skin. What they did was amazing.

By the way, did you know that since WW II, the Americans have been at war during two of every three years? That's sad.

I mentioned in an earlier writing about my first job, which was with the British Railways. I happened to visit an uncle who was chatting over the fence to his neighbour who was the staff officer in the local railway headquarters. Today I heard of the Indian Railways who want to recruit 100,000 more people. The trouble is, they've received 20 million applications. You should have heard the shouting going on outside one building, especially when they closed the gates. One man had travelled for over a day. He'd studied for a year, ten hours a day, but he ended up saying he wouldn't get a job because he didn't know anyone. He said it was who you knew rather than what you knew. My hiring process was a lot more gentlemanly.

I didn't plan on eating anything for dinner yesterday as I'd eaten too much on the holiday. Unfortunately, Samnang came over and said I had to eat. I settled for a grilled cheese sandwich. His dad phoned and said, "Get yourself off to Chinese class", so that meant I had to eat his sandwich too.

Do you ever do something and it reminds you of someone? Every morning I'm now drinking stinging nettle tea and, when I can get it, cherry juice. Apparently, they are great for gout. I'm presuming it works as I haven't had a bout since starting with these drinks over a year ago. So thank you Vincent and Len.

When I do this blog I have a warm feeling for Dave who got me going - that's except when he's telling me off for not fully understanding the process. He's a retired editor from the BBC and various other networks so he expects professionalism. It's like having my own, personal Arianna Huffington. He keeps going on about feeds and posts and yesterday it was 'grabs'. I have no idea what he's on about - I just type.

I'm wondering about a photograph for today. It'll have to be one from the holiday as nobody's taken a photo of me washing the floor. I think I'll post one that's got something for everyone.

I took the three lads from across the road for dinner. Oudom (12) and Samnang (14) have just finished their school exams so I thought we'd celebrate and take Ponleu (9) along too. The two oldest spent most of the time bickering back and forth, trying to get in the last word. Every so often they tell Ponleu what to do or not to do; he just sat, smiled and munched away. The problem for me is that they argue in English; if it were in Khmer I could switch off. I warned all of them if they ordered something they had to eat all of it - and they did. I also warned my chef, Samnang, that he'd better not start criticising the cooking, but he couldn't resist. His parents are going to have to put a block on the internet to stop him from watching cooking programmes on YouTube.

I walked with them to their Chinese school with Oudom pointing out that he failed his Chinese exam because he was honest; apparently, Samnang borrowed a phone from someone and managed to pass. All three of them hate going but it's their parents' way of getting them away from the computers at home so it serves them right.

I made an impulse buy on the way home and bought some Danish Blue Cheese, so I'm happy.

Last day in Bali

The day started off well; I was told there would be time to see the sea. Then the dreaded word was spoken - "Shopping". Off we went to a gigantic store, full of clothing stacked package upon package about 1.5 metres high. There must have been thousands of every single clothing item imaginable. The ladies in my family dived into shopping with gusto and even got the men involved. They walked away from the sarong section carrying nearly 20 of them. They are great family people and so, when they shop, it's not for themselves but for dozens of relatives. I'm not a shopper but they insisted I should buy something as a souvenier - I bought a knitted shirt.

During the morning our driver took us to a wholesale fruit market. We walked around looking for people selling snake fruit. We found one place and the 11 Cambodians started sampling the fruit and discussing a price. Earlier, I'd told people that Cina had asked Vuth to buy 50 kg of the fruit. What I didn't know was that others in the group also wanted to buy. The price in Cambodia is about $5 a kg as it's not grown here. In Bali it cost around $1.50 a kg.

I got fed up standing in the sun, waiting for the arguing over the price to end, and so I wandered back to the van. I sat on a wall, in the shade, and various street sellers came to me. I was impressed that they all spoke a reasonable amount of English. It was Sunday, and very quiet, so I suggested they should be at home with their families. One man tried to sell me silver bracelets but I refused. He said I could give one to my wife but I told him I didn't have one. He then suggested my sisters so I told him they lived far away. He kept coming up with ideas but I didn't buy, even when he offered me a large bottle of Chanel No.5.

Another chap appeared with a stack of baseball caps. He told me they were half the price of those around our hotel and I believed him as here he was among the locals with not a foreigner in sight. I'd have bought a batik one but he disappeared while I was talking to Usman. Usman plonked his bag on the floor and introduced himself and told me about his children. He saw my reading glasses that have the eye pieces joined together with a magnet. I'm quite proud of them so I showed him how they work. "Oh, they are like mine", he said; he had exactly the same kind. I didn't need another pair but he was so nice I decided to buy a pair. In Canada I paid up to Cdn$50, including postage; his were less than US$15. After that he wanted me to buy a pair of sunglasses to bring him luck as I was his first customer. Our driver had the same kind and so I fell for it and now I'm the proud owner of a pair of Polaroid glasses I may never wear. While we were talking I noticed most of the men were smoking. I commented on it and our driver said 80% of Indonesians smoke. They are very cheap so that is one reason why they do. It was a far more interesting time than watching people bargain for fruit. The fruit arrived at the van on the heads of ladies hired to carry them.

Next stop, the seaside. Hurray! Time to walk on the beach and get away from busy streets. About five of us left the vehicle to cross the sands to the ocean; the rest sat in the van. It was scorching hot so even I was happy to return to the vehicle. I think it would be lovely to go for an early. morning or evening walk as the beach was enormous and very clean.

We had the inevitable Chinese lunch. The meals are always good but, after a while, one Chinese meal starts to taste like any other Chinese meal. I insisted on having a beer and was happy to see four of the men willing to share. Meakara and Saly do all the ordering so the rest of us just sit back and wait for whatever to arrive.

It's interesting driving around because we see lots of very nice bus stops. They are elevated off the ground by about a metre, presumably so the drivers can see passengers. The funny thing is that I never saw anyone at the bus stops and I never saw a single public bus. Our driver said most of the working folk use motorbikes as the streets are too narrow for larger vehicles. If they use the bus they have to walk a long way home.

Bali airport is very impressive and I suppose it's purpose built for tourism as it's the main source of funds for the island. There are shops galore and everything is very tasteful. We got to the counter before the rest of the passengers arrived, and it was a good job, because of all our baggage. Our check-in lady with Malaysia Airways was wonderful. She spent about half an hour sorting out our seats so we could be close to each other. Vuth and the younger men always needed to be near the old folks to be able to translate when meals and other things came along. We also had seven boxes of snake fruit that weighed almost 200kg. We nearly had a hernia carrying them from the carts to the weigh scales. How the tiny ladies managed to lift them off the ground, and put them on their heads, is beyond me. We were so grateful we gave the check-in lady a large tip. She declined, saying she was doing her job, but we insisted. She was lovely and super patient. I just felt sorry for the ever increasing queue.

We arrived in Kuala Lumpur about 9pm and had booked rooms in a transit hotel at the airport as we had an 11 hour layover. We couldn't get into our rooms until midnight so I did a lot of mooching around. The room was lovely; the bath towel was so heavy, if I'd stolen it, it would have taken up my entire baggage allowance. It was a shame to have such a nice room but to only be able to use the bed until 5am when I had to get up.

Thus ended my Bali trip. Whether I ever return is a mystery. If I do, I won't be shopping and visiting temples. I'm sure our driver wanted us to see the best of the Hindu culture, but a few less temples would have been nice. It's a very clean and orderly place, the people are friendly and it's relatively cheap. I'm not a shopper so the streets of endless tourist stuff leaves me cold. I'd have loved to have wandered around the coffee plantation and the rice fields but rain stopped play.

Now for a bit of technical stuff. My friend Dave has told me that nobody's looking at the actual blog. Instead, people are receiving the daily notice and are reading my news that way. It's very embarrassing because the figures are posted of people visiting my blog and at the moment it's generally zero. So Dave is suggesting that you should take a look at the blog by going to https://peterheyes.blogspot.com and he'll be happy to see visits going up from zero. I'm told it's a lovely looking blog!

He's also put on something where you can share on Facebook, if you feel like it.