osmoala

I broke the written rules of the gym but nobody seemed to mind. I left my card at the reception, got a towel and a key to the locker room and Kamara, the young local trainer came to the desk. He had built some serious muscles in the last eight months and he was going to get married in a few weeks. I had seen her sitting at the back of his scooter outside The King Kong Bar and she looked lovely.

   ”How is it going?” He gave me a friendly jab on the biceps.

   ”Give me a month and I will tell you.”

   ”And this?” Now he gave me a low jab on the thigh.

   ”Well, my knee has been hurting for a while. I had meniscal surgery on the knee a long time ago, and now I have been wearing the wrong kind of shoes that put a stress on the knee.”

   He glanzed at my leg, and if he noticed the flip-flops I was wearing he pretended not to see. His eyes beamed with sympathy, but I told him everything was okay and I would start working on my legs in a few days. I congratulated him on his forthcoming wedding and he gave me the happy smile and we shook hands.

It was not the first time I had disobeyed rules, even though wearing flips at the gym was a petty thing. I guess everybody sometimes brakes the rules of one kind or other. And if not, I'm not going to feel sorry for them. It's important for the individual to now and then go against the norms in any given society. I'm not talking about robbing a bank or driving your vehicle on the wrong side of the road just for kicks; stealing or destroying things that don't belong to you, which is more or less the same thing, and it doesn't matter if it's private or governmental property – this is about something else. About reacting against conformity; we are individuals for god's sake. It's about ethics too; don't hurt other people. Unless they hurt you first. Well, that could be said about anybody, and everybody has a slightly different view of the world, but some people are more easily offended than others.

   Here's what I mean:

In the evening I went to The Temple for crossaints with ham and cheese and Shirin was sitting next to my table. I had met her before because she was Arthur's friend and he was deeply in love with her. I invited her over and she sat down with her glass of beer and a pack of Marlboro lights. She looked great with her long black hair and those misty eyes, like they held a secret, always a little smile even when she talked about serious matters. She had turned thirty just two days ago and she was from Iran. She spoke flawless British English with this little sing-song patois when she got carried away. She had traveled in Europe and she loved the cold snowy winters in Denmark. She said:

   ”I hate the veil. In Tehran I have to wear it all the time but I take it off as soon as I get out of there.”

   ”I read somewhere that things are loosening up in Tehran. With the women's rights and...”

   ”Yes – the young people don't believe in the religious doctrines anymore and there is more freedom these days, but it takes time to change the old ways of thinking, and they are still deeply rooted with the older population.”

   ”It's funny. In my country the muslims seem to be more religious than back where they come from.”

   ”I can believe it. Many muslims feel alienated when they have moved to Europe and the religion makes them feel more like they are at home. But I tell you one thing – Europe is going the wrong way with the massive immigration wave. Too much islam is not good, and you see what's going on in France for example, with different areas that are totally being controlled by the muslims.”

   ”Yes, segregation. And the politicians are talking about integration. It's a smoke screen, and there's an agenda somewhere they are hiding from the people. The Leftists are supporting the inflow because they always need a victim to justify their own existence. They have obviously forgotten what happened to the communists who braced the take over by Ayatollah Khomeini in 1979. After the revolution they could be seen hanging from the lamp posts in Tehran.”

   ”Yes. We are living in very strange times.”

   Then she yawned. It was contagious and I started yawning too. She was tired and so was I. It had been a long day.

She was going back to India in a few days to finish her PhD thesis. She gave me the title but I'll keep it to myself. And Shirin is not her real name. Governments, including the puppets in my own country are scouring the Internet for dissidents.

   It was twenty past two after midnight. We said ”good night” and ”sleep well”. I walked back to my place and went to bed. I fell asleep in a few minutes and plunged into a vivid dream where I was flying around and looking at people from above.

I felt sad and lonely after watching Savages because my knee hurt.

   It had been coming and going for three months and when it got worse the pain was a spike thru the left side of my right knee. I would never run or surf again, or be the last man standing in a fist fight.

   Then all of a sudden I made the connection: it all had started when I bought the pair of Asics! I was doing quite a bit of walking here in Siem Reap and I was going to the gym all the time and they didn't like people wearing flip-flops there. It's the fucking runners!

I showed Nico the bandage I was wearing around the knee. ”I got this one for stability.”

   ”It looks a bit tight.”

   ”It's a medium size. They didn't have anything bigger.”

   He laughed at me: ”Look at you – you're a big guy, and you are wearing a medium size bandage! It stops your blood circulation and your knee gets even worse – hah hah haa!”

   We were sitting at the bar at The Sok San Street Boutique, sipping 50-cent beers and even though he thought Fidel Castro ”was a great man” we seemed to get along pretty well. He was one of those light-hearted communists you sometimes happen to run into by accident or sheer luck. He dressed like one too, always wearing particoloured shirts and baggy shorts. The long beard tied with a string. I had known him for a year now and he always seemed to be in a good mood.

   ”Maybe you're right. I bought the wrong shoes and I've got the wrong bandage. I feel like an idiot now.”

   ”Hah hah haa!” He waved to the pretty waitress for more beer.

   I had stayed here at The Boutique for a month and it cost me 450 dollars. Now I had a small apartment for 110 dollars a month in a nice neighbourhood with plenty of restaurants, only a ten minute walk down Funky Lane to Sok San Road, but I used to come here now and then for the ice cold draughts. And the staff was great.

We talked about Yvonne, the Dutch lady who had stayed at The Concept Residence last year when we all used to gather around the pool. Yvonne had died on the plane to China, where she had a connecting flight to Amsterdam. She was old but not old enough to die of old age. She hadn't been well for the last months of her stay though; she drank vodka heavily and chainsmoked Camels, and the joints too when she got them somehow; we brought food to her and we refused to buy her more vodka, but she wouldn't eat and the vodka she got by herself taking a tuk tuk back and forth to the supermarket.

   At the end of her stay she spent a few days in hospital for dehydration and for injuring her leg when she took a bad fall being drunk. Her son runs a small place on Massage Street selling Dutch snacks, but we never saw much of him.

   ”I think she was ready to go.” I had a sip of the frosty glass. ”Like she knew she was going to die. Hinu and I said goodbye to her when she was sitting in the cab; there was this shimmer in her eyes, like she had made up her mind.”

   ”Yes.” Nico looked philosophical for a moment. ”Maybe she knew... And she didn't have much of a life in The Netherlands anyway.”

   We said nothing for a moment, savouring the memories of the eccentric and kind hearted Yvonne.

   ”Well – the cleaning girl asked Hinu afterwards if Yvonne's son would have to buy the company a new aeroplane.”

   ”Why?” asked Nico.

   ”Because Yvonne died on that plane.”

I took a few days off from the gym and started taking walks using my flip-flops. The knee was already getting better.

For some reason it was easier to write about the girls than the guys. It should say ”women” and ”men”, but here most people look like girls or guys, because traveling often makes people look younger than their age. You can see the energy in their eyes. And the girls had the most interesting stories to tell.

   So I was mostly thinking of girls. Perhaps I was only trying to understand the human nature, and even though I hated the idea of leaving all the untold stories behind it was better to focus on some other things for a while.

   I was only kidding myself. When the last weeks materialized I realized there were very few options. So be it.

     Lorelyn

 Lorelyn smiled.

   She was already locked with her eyes to mine while crossing the somewhat dangerous intersection between The Temple and The King Kong Bar. I had seen accidents happen there but now there was little traffic so I smiled too.

   She was a blessing for sore eyes. A light yellow skirt showing the well crafted knee caps, the contagious smile, happy gray eyes with a dash of green. The kind of green that makes you jump off a boat if you stare at the water long enough. She would use curse words like a lumberjack but she surely looked like a woman. A sudden gush of wind caught her hair and we moved inside The King Kong.

   Well, there is really no inside, only a tinroof, but to the right there is a bar with a few rooms when you have made your choice amongst the girls sitting on the red couches. Couches that remind you of the 70s German porn movies, but these girls never seemed to crack a smile. I had only seen locals there, in small groups celebrating something. To the left of the smallest bar in the world there was an open all night shop.

   ”Rain, tequila, please”.

   Lorelyn said, ”Good to see you too”, without the usual 'motherfucker'. Maybe she was holding it back because we hadn't seen each other in eleven months.

   She was so easy to be with and it was a happy street now; people around you smiling, tuk tuks honking in a friendly way, people passing by with a hand in the air to a greeting, a white cat stroking at your leg.

   Rain fixed the drinks in no time and we would have a couple more. Rain pulled out snacks with bugs and worms and scorpions. Last time we were here she had whispered to me, ”She is so beautiful”. Now we had a plate of fried scorpions in front of us, but the scorpions had nothing to do with anything.

     Carolyn

Carolyn said to herself, ”Curry on your feet”. She made a slow move and produced an ashtray. She had broken her both feet. It happened a week ago when she fell down the 17 steps from the third floor.

   ”It gives you time to think.”

   ”What do you mean?”

   Her boobs were visible there for a while when she was reaching for a cigarette, voluptious with the rounded curve of a skilled surgeon, the nipples pink. She was a natural blonde and there was an empty bottle of Russian vodka on her night table.

   All of a sudden I grew a little nervous. Was I supposed to do something with these tits pointing at you, like the forever tempting fruits from the Garden of Eden? The pleasures of the Assasins's dreams? I could easily reach over there we were sitting on her double bed and put one of her nipples in my mouth.

   ”Give me an example.” I had forgotten she was an English teacher.

   ”Like... is it all over? Am I going to die now? Did I pay my bills?”

   She wrapped the robe around her like a fortress and then she let it slide open again, and I was trying not to look. I was sucking on to my cigarette and the sun was coming in thru the open door. The air con was on. Victor was by the poolside with his legs in the water. His girlfriend came back carrying bags with vegetables. I realized this would not be my place. I decided to go to the Mekong River to see Christian.

There were other people going too. Moori, Loch and Lee. Lee, the former skateboard pro from London had been bitten by a dog and he was taking rabies shots. I would tell him that a dog that bit him and then survived for three days wouldn't be a risk to anyone.

     Phuc

I took off with my best friend's wife.

   We went to Viva! for the frozen margaritas. Ross was back in the UK and she was here. He wouldn't mind us having a drink together now that she was in Siem Reap on a short holiday, all by herself, and I was the only one she knew here.

   She checked the back of my neck. ”Look, what happened to you?”

   ”Mosquito bites.” I could feel them but not see them. Somewhere ten to fifteen bites. She looked worried there for a little while, but I was sure it wouldn't last long.

   ”I just came back from the Mekong. It was only a hundred meters across the river to Laos. It was hot during the day and cold at night. There were mosquitos around and they come at sunset. But we had no electricity so we couldn't see them anyway. I slept in a tent for the first time in a hundred years and I hated it.”

   She gave me a serious look, like, why do you do things like that? – took another look at the red puncture marks, gave away an easy laughter, shaking her head. She had a sip of her drink. I had a sip of mine. They were good margaritas.

     Sheela

We were burning ice for two days. There was no sleep but we seemed to spend all the time in her bed. There was no other furniture anyway. It was in the outskirts, near the big local market, a three minute tuk tuk drive from Sok San Road. It was close to where Arthur had proudly shown me a place that was only a dollar fifty a night so I walked in there and walked out again.

   Arthur waiting in the tuk tuk – ”What do you think?”

   ”It's a dormitory. I spent ten months in the army. I'm done with dormitories.”

   ”Oh, a fucking dormitory.” We said nothing. He had never bothered to look inside.

Sheela was a beautiful girl. And like any beautiful girl she had a thing working against her, it could be about anything, and Sheela was grinding her teeth. She would easily grind her teeth the beat of maracas when she got in the mood. It was sort of okay too once you got used to it.

   On the second day I developed a fever. Probably a reaction to the mosquitos. I gave her ten dollars to go and buy Aspirin and Aquarious, the best isotonic drink ever, and she came back with a bag of ice. Maybe she thought ice was the cure for everything.