Holidays
Christmas went and The New Year came.
In the week between these two events I enjoyed some delicious food. Even though they are not public holidays the Khmer take every chance to celebrate. So the streets and many restaurants on Pub Street and Sok San Road are packed with people from Phnom Penh and the outskirts, walking in big groups, dressed for the occasion, wearing a happily adventurous smile.
There was room at some restaurants where you pay more than five dollars for a meal, and on Christmas Eve I went with Sophia and Nico to Kuriosity Kafe. I had the honey and mustard glazed pork ribs with mash. If you are used to noodles and fried rice, then, what they serve you is a mountain of food on a wooden tray. Absolutely delicious.
There were the sirloin and the tenderloin steaks at The Palm Café; lasagna at Pasta la' Vista; the meatballs with fried potatoes and onion sauce at Geri's place, Apoua's Rock Blues Metal Bar; the pizzas at The Natural House. Snacks with chicken kebab at Karma Bar. I filled the fridge with Cheddar, tomatoes, butter, mayo, beer and Aquarious. There was a bakery round the corner, with baguettes and rye bread.
I was eating. We always did back home, and what I missed about spending Christmas in the old country was Jansson's Frestelse – an owen baked dish with layers of sliced potatoes, herring, onions and cream. I found the substitutes here and probably gained a kilo or two.
And the drinks, as always, only a little bit more now – beers at The Blue Bar with the pool; Amaretto's at Geri's place opposite; frozen margaritas at Viva! and the original ones at Wear The Foxhat. Jameson and Bailey's at The King Kong Bar. The tequila's at Karma Bar. It was great with all these happy people around you and I knew it wouldn't go on for ever. These days were funny, in the both senses of the word. Looking back at the last week is like snapping your fingers.
I was so hangover on The New Year's Eve I didn't even feel like going out, but then it happened anyway, at eight in the evening, and soon I joined the crowd at The King Kong. The Khmer guys clinked their glasses with yours and wished you A Happy New Year. And then again. Paul from Australia was here. He had traveled the world for many years. Tony from Yorkshire was here too, he said: ”I've been to every country in Asia except for Bhutan. And North Korea. Where do you want to go?”
”The Foxhat.”
We went to The Foxhat just before the fireworks started exploding above the rooftops. Richard was there, he had just moved out from his house and didn't know where to stay; Jeff, looking like Max von Sydow in his late fifties; Darren, the owner with his parents. A lovely couple. I had met them last year when they stayed for three weeks. Now they were here for two and a half months.
There was Darren's wife behind the bar, shaking drinks, pouring beers, teaching the new staff. Maybe she was thinking, when will I get some time off? The local girls playing pool. Rock and roll versions of Christmas songs on the speakers. So, suddenly we were hugging, saluting and wishing everybody happy days.
There were two more New Years' coming in the next few months – the Chinese and the Khmer holidays.
Sophia spoke about the energies with people.
What she said made sense now, and she made it sound like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Sitting at Blue Bar the next day I remembered what she had said so I started tuning in on people's frequencies.
The pool between you and the bar. Arthur next to you on the gray sundbead sipping on a coconut.
His energy levels were good because he hadn't had a drink for four days. Dane at the bar – he was from Poland, his vibrational levels were good too – was going back to Thailand the next day with his girlfriend from Lithuania. She scored six point seven.
Arthur said: ”I know. But everybody cannot see it. I can. And you are still learning, but you are improving.”
I thought it was hippie talk. Then again, maybe there was something to it. What the hell did I know?
Sophia made juvelry, sold it at the markets and she used to have a stand at Garden Village next to the tightrope with a collection of home made gems. It was an exhibition of rings, earrings, noserings, necklaces, bracelets, anklets. She was from Istanbul. I asked her if she ever walked the tightrope. She said no. ”Did you?”
We were at the King Kong Bar, Rain gone to the market – she had said, ”Take care of the bar and you can drink for free.”
”So, it's not there anymore?”
”No, I stopped it for different reasons. I finished it off.”
She had her hair tied a broom pointing upward, a whip of black hair that made you think of Amy Winehouse.
”Why?”
”The manager at Garden Village wants to change the deal we had. Now I'm looking for new places where I can sell.”
”Of course. Would you like a draft?”
At Wear The Foxhat, at the end of the bar that streches away from the pool table and the keyboard where you can choose your own songs – now it was Slash with the theme from The Godfather, next would be Tommy Bolin and Sweet Burgundy – Sophia elaborated on the subject; ”Sometimes you can see people's energies. It comes to you like waves.”
”Like frequency levels?”
She tasted the margarita and nodded in approval; ”Yes, it's the same thing. I'm happy you understand.”
I thought she said 'hippie' instead of 'happy' so I asked jokingly and she explained:
”Everybody has this ability to see people's frequences, as you call it, but then you will have to change your ways of how you perceive this reality.”
”Me?”
”No, not you.” She laughed, ”Everybody.”
”So you tried Ayahuascha?” I was guessing now.
”Yes, a few times.”
”Does it make you a better person?”
”Sometimes.”
”What do you mean sometimes? The individual session or what happens then afterwards? And if it's so good – why do you want to take it again?”
”Both. Some were better than others. And you can still get these mood swings. Like echoes from you past life. And why take it again? – It's like cleaning your mind. I guess we all want to be better humans.”
We went to eat at Geri's Bar and she took the beatballs, without the onion sauce. Geri was playing some of his heavy metal favourites. We were sitting on the outside and there were three guys inside at the bar when I went to ge a sniffer of Amaretto. Geri's girlfriend was in the kitchen doing the cooking.
They were German students on a holiday from China were they were studying programming.
”We are here to take pictures of Angkor Wat because we want to make a hologram of the place.”
”Is it going to happen?”
”Probably not”, said the front guy, and they all laughed in German. ”But it would be a great project.” I agreed.
The meatballs with fried potatoes and onion sauce was delicious as always. There were about ten different places I used to go to. For pizzas, hamburgers, lasagnas, Indian, Mexican, the meatballs and all the local stuff too, like The Palm Café a one minute walk from my little apartment. They served sirloin, tenderloin and the local dishes. I was always happy to eat there, except for the pork loins with pineapple sauce. Too sweet.
I was going to take another guess: ”You ever been to India?”
Afterwards, at Karma Bar – Mr T. walks up. He is a tuk tuk driver with five kids and his wife has left him. He stopped drinking when he turned fifty four months ago. I ask if that is the reason she left him and he says, ”Maybe”. With a smile: ”I don't miss her.” I haven't seen the guy in eight months and he is beaming now.
”I started a school for the local kids in my village. We need teachers. You want to come?”
”First I'll need to buy a ukulele.”
”Okay, I'll wait for you.”
”Do you play?” says Sophia.
”Sometimes. Have you ever been to Kevin's Vagabond Bar?”
”No.”
”What do you play?”
”Drums.”
”Mr T. plays the tro. It's a two stringed instrument and when he tunes it right he can follow almost everything you play. We could form a band.”
She nods her head sideways. ”Hih hih hii, why not.” She has definitely been to India.
