Rain, Elections & Travel Plans

It's raining.
More accurately; it's raining again.
Well, it has been raining almost all week. But I still don't mind that much. I play a lot of online poker and watch a lot of Mad Men. Easy life. But the best thing about the rainy season is Occheuteal Beach. 3.5 km of wide-open space, nothing but sand and sea, strong wind, big waves and almost no one around. Running on this empty beach is an absolute bliss.

Election weekend is here. There's a lot of military in town and, more importantly, there's a 48 hours booze-ban in effect. Of course, I took precautions days ago (a bottle of Jack) and don't go out drinking in this weather anyway. That's really all there is to say about these local elections by a barang like me.

(Third World) elections.
Everybody knows how it goes.

(For some quick insight in Cambodian politics; The New York Times ran an excellent piece a few days ago: '10.000 Days of Hun Sen')

Tomorrow, when the Cambodians go to vote, I'm leaving the country for (at least) a few days. No worries, I trained a team of monkeys and put them in an abandoned shack on Victory Hill. They work 24/7 to deliver a new issue of The Sihanoukville Gazette every single day. Even during my absence this should continue uninterrupted. In case anything goes wrong I'll be eating monkey soup on my return. That should keep those banana-eating bastards motivated.

Anyway, I'm shit scared. In fact, I would prefer to just stay in Sihanoukville. Especially after my fail-trip to India; I'm not all that eager to travel all alone to unknown places. Alas, I believe sometimes a man has to do whatever scares him the most. Otherwise we're all just getting old and fat and weak. So I tossed my toothbrush, some clothes and a few books in a small backpack. Tomorrow morning I'm on a bus to the border...

Check out my Twitter to follow the trail into Vietnam.

Books, Whiskey and a Wild Night Out (42 Hours in Phnom Penh)

Eight years ago it took 3,5 hours to get from Sihanoukville to Phnom Penh by bus. Nowadays it's 3 hours to the outskirts of town and then another 2 hours of crawling through Phnom Penh traffic. I'm tired and thirsty by the time the bus finally stops. As soon as I'm out on the street, tuk-tuk drivers besiege me from all sides with a wide range of offers (transport, accommodation, drugs, sex…). I haven't been to a real city since Bangkok in mid-February. The noise, the smell, the crowds and all these people trying to sell me something... It's hard to deal with now. Finding a hotel room in this busy, sticky city drains any power I've got left. After dinner, I return to my hotel room and go to sleep early. Phnom Penh's too big for me.

The next morning I still feel not quiet ready to get out. But I drag myself to the Central Market nevertheless. Ten minutes later I'm the proud owner of 2 new, very reasonably priced, t-shirts. Cambodians believe that a sale early in the morning will bring good luck and good business. There's hardly any bargaining necessary. They are happy to sell something as early as possible. I like to get my shopping done as quickly as possible. Everybody wins, everybody's happy. The Central Market is good place to be at 8 in the morning (before everyone else gets there). Then I head to Bohr's Bookshop. It's one of my favorite places; a small shop in the shadow of the Royal Palace stuffed with copied and second-hand books. It's a thrill seeing all fresh and different books. Q&A in Sihanoukville is an alright book-store but it lacks new titles. Here in Bohr's there's a solid collection of new (copied) books. After taking my time looking around, I end up spending $20 on five books. Afterwards I go for breakfast on the riverside. It's still only 10 am. What to do now? I'm thinking about taking the 12 o'clock bus back to Sihanoukville when I get a phone call from a friend. Do I want to party tonight? Yes, sure and thank you for calling. I walk around the riverside a little bit more and then I retreat to my hotel room with some fine quality herbs. Phnom Penh's is not that bad.

At night I meet up with a couple of girls from Sihanoukville. We eat grilled chicken at a local market for dinner. Then we go for cocktails on the riverside and on to Pontoon, the hippest nightclub in town. Normally I'm not the kind of dude who frequent nightclubs. Especially not hip night clubs. But these girls have money in their pockets (for once) and, in true Khmer-style, can't relax until they burned through it all. So to Pontoon we go. We order a bottle of Jim Bean and sit at a private table just next to the dance floor. Oh yeah, drinking whiskey with beautiful girls in a Phnom Penh nightclub. My mom would be so proud. Well, at least, I do feel like a pretty cool dude right now. Later a few friends of friends join us. Another bottle of Jim Bean appears on the table and another and… In short, it's a great, wild night out. Lots of dancing and laughing and acting like a fool. It's all good fun. Of course, large amounts of whiskey always lead to some kind of trouble. Some glasses get smashed on the floor. A couple starts getting funky on the couch until a passed-out girl suddenly wakes up and pukes all over them (lots of lols by me). It's getting late and I'm thinking about sneaking out. Just when I get on my feet someone asks me to help take puking girl outside. We carry her across the dance floor, out on the street and into a tuk-tuk... She manages to puke all over my shirt in the process (lots of lols but none mine). Anyway, it was a great night out. Some things never change. Phnom Penh's an awesome city.

The next morning I take the bus back to Sihanoukville. It was a good trip but now I'm excited to return to my quiet, little room by the sea.
Cambodia; life's good here for me.

The Sihanoukville Gazette

A daily online paper dedicated to my favorite beach town...

100 Days On A Beach

Last night I jumped out of bed at 3 am; woken up by a giant, roaring thunderstorm. It has been raining heavily ever since. The streets are muddy at best, whitewater rivers in many parts of town. The beaches are deserted. Tonight JJ's Playground, one of my favorite late night beach-front drinking spots, has one last party before it closes down indefinitely…

It's official;
the rainy season's in town.
I don't care all that much.

Today it's exactly 100 days since I left Belgium.
Rain or sunshine, as long as I'm east of Islamabad, it's all good.

Days go by while I read, run, crush poker, linger on beaches, drive my moto, drink, party and smoke the good stuff… I'm a lucky one to live like this. Or, maybe, I just don't feel like I've got anything to loose. It's all good.

When it rains I play poker. When it rains some more I watch episodes of Mad Men or mess around with the latest social media. Like all hipsters you can now find me on Pinterest, the Facebook for illiterates, and I started publishing a daily online paper The Sihanoukville Gazette. Lastly, I'm not quiet sure what happened but since Khmer New Year my Twitter sort of exploded. Just ask any of my 13K followers...

Anyway, I'm doing fine.

100 Days on a beach
You really should try it one day

Postcard from Sihanoukville

Every night the dreams are the same. I'm running or driving but always panicking. Eventually I fall into a dark void. While thumbling down into nothingness I realize this must be nothing but a dream. Relieved I open my eyes. Now I'm in bed in Brussels. Grey European light creeps through closed curtains. I get out of bed and walk around the big, quiet apartment. Somehow I came back but I don't understand how or why. There must be some kind of mistake. I don't belong here. My head spins. I try to scream but there's no sound. Blind, wild fear has got me by the balls. My soul gets crushed under the weight of another twenty years of European boredom. I can't do this. This must be another nightmare, right? Suddenly I open my eyes and I'm wide awake. For real this time. I feel the heat, the familiar sounds of a spinning fan and howling dogs, the stickiness of my skin. Relieved, I take a deep breath. It's just a bad dream.

On the last day of Khmer New Year I went to the temple to burn incense and pray for good luck. Although I'm not a religious man, I've got a deep interest in Buddhism and I enjoy the peaceful, happy vibe in Buddhist temples. Incense, bananas, smiling monks and colorful Buddha statues; it's always a happy time. I like it here. All my Christian guilt is slowly dissolving into thin air. I'm almost free.

A few days ago almost 1000 US Navy personnel from the USS Blue Ridge got shore leave here in Sihanoukville. It's funny how every single cliché about US soldiers on R&R turns out to be true. They roamed the beaches, bars and casinos like wild, horny dogs. I heard buses full of Phnom Penh working girls sped down on Highway 4 to get a piece of the pie. Clueless about the dollar-value in this place the US Army made countless business-owners, tuk-tuk-drivers and street sellers incredible happy. The professional girlfriends had the time of there life. It was so damn busy that after the first night I just stayed home. Nevertheless, happy nights for the local economy. Thank you USA and please come again! Anyway, with the USS Blue Ridge back out on the sea, Sihanoukville is quiet as ever. Hot days are followed by the first burst of rain. The barang retirees are planning visits to family back home, business owners who can afford it close down for a few months. Those who stay are waiting for the rains.

It has been three months since I left Brussels. To celebrate I bought a bottle of Jack Daniels, an extra-large coolbox and a set of two chairs and a table. Then I spend all day cleaning and asked the landlord about discounts for long-term tenants. Staying away is far more important than traveling to new places. Besides, everything I want or need is right here. Of course, life's a constant struggle with my limitations and my tendencies (just like it would be anywhere else in the world). But, unlike anywhere else, a lot of the time I feel really happy here.
Confident,
at ease,
at home...

Until next time;
Greetings from Sihanoukville!

Enter The Dragon

Yesterday, at 19h12 local time, the rabbit left and the dragon entered. It's Khmer New Year. This is 2256, the Year of the Dragon. The back streets of Sihanoukville are deserted. Almost all shops and food stalls are closed. The building where I live is nearly empty. Most of the Sihanoukville Khmer are out in the provinces to celebrate with their families. Only the rich from Phnom Penh come to spend the New Year holiday on the beach. The main street is packed with fancy cars and the beaches are full with drunk city people. There's a weird vibe in town. SUV's speed down Ekareach Street but take one side turn and there are only roaming dogs and dust to be found.

The last weeks of the Year of the Rabbit I tried to enjoy the now instead of always worrying about the future. At times I envy my Khmer friends who seem to live so effortlessly today without a clue how to pay next month's rent. Me, I have another 10 months of holiday ahead but somehow I manage to get all stressed and anxious about it. Am I making the most of my time? Should I be somewhere else? Am I doing this right? What do I do when the trip is over? …and a million other questions to keep me completely oblivious of life right now. So I actually looked at the palm trees, smelled the sea and tried to live more intensely. It worked for some time but, alas, we all have our tendencies. More than anything this Only Now-crap turned into an excuse to stay out on the beach way too long for too many nights…
So I just keep going around in circles. Done with the now (aka the night life) I made a glorious return to the pokers. In three days I tripled my meager PokerStars-bankroll. Although I should know better, I felt like the king of the world. Crushing poker, making money and living in a beach town: happy times. Of course, on the fourth day I gave back almost all of my winnings and got soul-crushed in the process. I refused all invitations to go to New Year parties in far away villages and watched a dozen lousy movies on my laptop. That's were the Year of the Rabbit ended.

Here we are now. The Year of the Dragon, Day 1. Clueless, as usual. Not partying, not playing poker. No friends anymore either (drunk nights can do that). Two months into this trip, all alone in Sihanoukville. I got a nice room and a fancy moto. No complaints. There are worse places to be (at 6am on the day job, for example). I'll figure things out from here. There's another month left before the rainy season. I might stay, I might leave. At least I make my own choices here.

Dead to the rabbit; long live the dragon!

Life of Ease

...enough said

Always Keep The Customer Satisfied

One of the reasons why I love Asia is the customer service. Dealing with Online, my local internet service provider is a prime example.

Every visit to the Online-office is a bliss. Even before I'm off my moto there's a security guard there to wish me a pleasant day. He opens the door while I enter the air-con office. The interior is stylish blue with touches of orange, according to the company-color-scheme. Most of the time there are about 3 women there to welcome me. They wear sexy blue flight-attendant-like suits with the orange Online-company-logo on their blouses. After they all greeted, one will invite me over to her desk. I sit down in a very comfortable blue chair and she informs (with a beautiful smile) how she can help me today. It's consumer heaven!

One time I didn't have an internet connection for half a day so I went over there to complain. After all the usual greetings and smiles I was assured there would be a technician at my place in 15 minutes (I live just around the corner). Ten minutes later the man was there. Without looking at anything he asked politely if I had rebooted my router after the last power cut. After noticing my blank stare, he explained very patiently how to do this. Then he was about to leave without any payment or charge. I stopped him in his track and gave him a handsome tip. Clearly the problem was entirely my fault but this on-site support by a technician was free of charge nevertheless! Even better; this dude was extremely polite and didn't even vaguely suggest that I was just another dumb barang wasting his time…

The best part is that I pay my subscription monthly in cash. Every month I get an e-mail with a friendly invitation to come by the Online office. With a big smile I stuff some dollar bills in my pocket and get on my moto. Paying an ISP was never this much fun!

Cancer Girl

A girl returns from the local hospital with bad news. She has an ovarian tumor. It's her fourth. She had three operations already but the tumor always returns...

Cambodian hospitals are places to avoid. The biggest problem are the doctors. Degrees of Cambodian Universities require first and foremost money (and not necessarily knowledge). The profession tends to go from father to son. Never mind skills or intellect. As long as daddy pays, his sons will get a doctor degree. So entering a hospital is like a reverse lottery. You can't win but random factors will decide how badly you're fucked. They charge whatever they feel like, they love to play with fancy equipment and sell brightly-colored pills but, most of the time, it looks like they don't have a clue what's going on…

Anyway, Cancer Girl doesn't freak out (like I would) when she gets the news. She just goes on a little fundraising tour along friends and family. Then she makes Skype-calls to a ex-, current- and future-boyfriends worldwide. She collects at the local Western Union office and books an operation in a remote hospital north of Phnom Penh.
"Good price and good doctor", she reasons.
I nod and I offer no opinion at all. Getting involved is something to avoid. Entering a hospital with my white face and a sick girl in my arms is every Khmer doctors wet-dream. I'll observe this tragedy over a cold beer but that's all I do. I'm not here to save the world, let alone to pay inflated hospital bills…

The morning of the operation Cancer Girl goes to the market to buy a big box of fresh crab. A little gift for the doctor to make sure he does a good job… Then she travels all day to the remote hospital. I heard it was after dark when the doctor was ready to see her.

Only two days later Cancer Girl is back in town. She would have liked to stay in the hospital a few days more but she ran out of money so they kicked her out. With a fresh wound in her stomach she travels all the way back to Sihanoukville by bus. In her family-home, she lies in bed for days. No one's really sure what to do. They feed her rice soup and hope for the best.

Two weeks later I meet her on the beach. She's smoking a cigarette and drinking gin-tonic, looking stunning.
"How's your stomach?", I ask.
"It hurts sometimes but I don't want to think about it. I'm scared if I go to hospital they will say the tumor still there. I don't want to know. No more money. I don't make operation again. I just want to enjoy life and help my family. Forget...Hey, why don't you buy me a drink?"

A Night On The Beach

Sometimes I'm jealous with the dedicated drinkers. They sit in the morning at roadside stalls and noodle shops with a cold beer in the hand and a young Khmer girl by their side. Later they'll go to the beach or the market or around town. But it's impossible to spot them without a beer and a girl. I admire the way those dudes managed to simplify their lives. Beer and sex; only the simple basics and probably not much else. They didn't wait for the zombie apocalypse but turned them self into brain-dead satisfaction-seekers. Respect! It must take years of hard and heavy training to reach that level of simplicity...

Those men are far out of my league. I can practice all I want I'll never make it that far. Just woke up after a night on the beach. The room spins and my head hurts. Yesterday late afternoon I ran into Professional Girl, Gay Dude and Daria. I joined them for barbecue and beers. Then we did the tour of happy hours around Occheuteal bars to end up with big Mekong whiskey buckets on Serendipity beach in the early hours.. Man, there's no hangover like a Mekong hangover. But, on the other hand, it was a great night out. All fun and happy. Sometimes you just need to get wasted to stay sane...

Unlike the dedicated drinkers I'll spend the rest of the day alone. Drinking fresh coconuts and doing laundry. My moto needs a small repair and I'm sort of looking into a little trip into Vietnam (if I can afford it). Anyway, all this cheap whiskey killed the darkness for a wile. A hangover helps to avoid thinking too much. In fact, I feel happily busy for a guy on an extended holiday. So, fuck it, let's dance while this party lasts!

Maybe Later

It's hot and sunny in Sihanoukville. Life's good, I guess. Everything's perfect except my tired mind.
"Hey, sir, buy fruit today?"
"Maybe later."

For ten days and nights I did spend most of my time in my room, playing low-stakes big-field online poker tournaments (the PokerStars MicroMillions). It was uneventful, boring, sad and lonely. It halved my PokerStars account but I didn't even have anything significant on there to begin with. Nothing but a waste of time.
Winning?
Maybe later.

Sometimes I go for a run. Unfortunately, it's impossible to find a pair of decent running shoes in this town. In the end I bought fake Nikes, two sizes too small. They turn my feet into a painful mess. But I really like to run. So every time my feet are somewhat healed I squeeze into those small, crappy shoes and run, run, run for as long as I can. I'm still not sure if it's worth all the pain or not. On the other hand, there's no point in quitting until I reach a full conclusion.
Healthy exercise?
Maybe later.

In between recovering from all the wasted poker-time and nursing my painful feet, despair is quietly taking over… I love the palm trees and the sunny beaches. I just can't get rid of me. Just like home, there are times I struggle to get out of my room. Just like home, I only have about 1 friend here. Just like home, I still dream about a better life just around the corner…
Maybe later,
right?

The only thing I now for sure is that, in the end, I'll be driving that damned delivery van around Brussels again. I fail to see any other plausible way...
"Hey, man, you don't look happy. Want to smoke some weed?"
"Maybe later."

It's the height of the hot season now. The weather report states sunny weather all around with just a tiny chance of tropical depression.
A happy, fulfilling life?
Maybe later.

The Field Trip

"Hey, why use your phone so much? Better save your battery!"

We are on the road for about seven hours when Daria tells me there's no electricity in her hometown. Cambodia's always full of surprises. I agreed to make this trip because her mother needs a loan. My white face should help seal the deal. We left Sihanoukville early in the morning. The five hour bus ride up on Highway 4 to Phnom Penh was reasonably comfortable. I edited some pictures on my iPhone, played a few levels of Angry Birds and listened to the latest Huff & Stapes podcast. In Phnom Penh we get on a small (but packed) bus heading to some small villages in Kampong Cham province. No aircon, no leg space, bad road and terrible heat all the way. I try to find some relief by listening to the Pokercast when Daria gives me the lowdown about her hometown…

It's late afternoon when we get off the bus in a tiny village in the middle of nowhere.
"Alright, so this is your hometown!"
"No, now we take moto "
After another hour on a dusty trail through tropical forests and plantations we arrive at a few wooden shacks.
"This my hometown!"
"…Town?…Where?"
By now it's dusk. I ask for the toilet. Daria just laughs. Great... Can't charge my phone and have to shit in the fields... After dark I forget this lack of comfort for a little while. In awe I stare at the million stars in the sky and enjoy being shown around the village (by torch). Everyone's friendly. I speak just enough Khmer to score some laughs. Everyone's happy. By nine all is dark and quiet. I sleep on a wooden platform under a thatched roof right next to Daria... and her mother... and two random children. Mosquitos feast on my blood. The heat makes it hard to sleep. It's the middle of the night but here, in the countryside, there's no breeze. Only the sound of insects and the insane nightly heat…

Next morning, it's a quarter to six when I wake up. The whole village's already buzzing with activity. I'm thirsty and hungry but there isn't that much food and water around. I decide to ignore my needs. The family and I go for a quick walk around the village before the heat gets unbearable. My back and legs hurt tremendously from spending a night on a wooden platform. Alas, after eight it's the only place that offers any shadow. I sit in pain. People from the village are working in the fields and on the plantations. I find it even hard to breath. I'm not moving but soaked in sweat. They cut rice all day, everyday...

It's a long, long wait before the bank manager shows up. He's expected around 8 but it's 11 (three painful hours on the platform) before he arrives. It takes another two hours before the deal is done…
No one told me but now I finally realize that I'm not really here to smoothen the deal. I'm here because of some vague hope that I will hand out (at least some of) the $1000 loan. These people are out of luck. Sure, this family needs a toilet and a water-proof roof but it's not my problem. Life's hard out here. They work all day for less than what I pay for a cheese sandwich. Well, that's how it goes. Third-world country, right? I take note of their misery but I don't feel addressed. I'm not here to save the world. You get born in rural Cambodia, you're fucked. That's the way things are. You'll get you my sympathy but I prefer to keep my money. Thank you and good luck to you.

In the afternoon Daria and I leave on a moto-taxi for Kampong Cham city. If someone had begged me for cash at least I could be angry. Unfortunately, no one asked me for anything. I'm dizzy, thirsty and confused. It takes two hours of dust-eating and getting burned and bruised on the back of a moto before we're back on paved roads. Kampong Cham is a small, sleepy backwater. The majestic Mekong-river is awesome though. So is the hotel room shower and many bottles of cold water. I'm dead tired and sound asleep before eight.

The next day we travel back to the coast. It's not a happy trip. Daria's feeling sick. I'm on a doom-and-gloom poverty-hangover. The bus out of Kampong Cham has a breakdown. When we arrive in Phnom Penh all I see (in jealous angriness) are young backpackers passing by. They have fancy backpacks, speckless t-shirts and freshly-washed hair. Effortlessly they slide a laptop out of their pack while they wait for a bus. They are spotless and clean; smiling perfect toothpaste-smiles. I wear dust covered clothes. I'm sticky and sweaty and hungry and tired. Daria has a fever. I'm annoyed with the poor, proud farmers in Kampong Chang province. Why didn't they just try to scam me? Being poor and kind-hearted is the ultimate recipe for misery. The good, poor people are doomed. The trendy backpackers are the upperclass of tomorrow. It's a fucked-up world. There's no middle-ground. A few have it all, most have absolutely nothing. ... Maybe it's just too damn hot in Phnom Penh this time of the year... I scratch countless mosquito bites while getting lost in dark thoughts until we board the bus to Sihanoukville. It's almost dark when we get there. There's a gentle sea breeze. I crave a cold beer and a pizza.

Back in my little hedonistic bubble...

No Man's An Island

About twenty-five people showed up for my 31st birthday party. They all sang "Happy Birthday" for me. There even was a cake with my name on it. I hardly knew any of these people before the party but but by the end of the night we were all friends...

A week ago I outsourced my birthday party to a friend, a Khmer girl. She made it an awesome Khmer-style party in her little restaurant. All her friends were invited. They brought along their barang boyfriends. My landlord and a few barang neighbors and friends also showed up. Loud karaoke, lots of beer and delicious food were the main attractions. Somehow I was the centre of the show and I really enjoyed it… Only in Cambodia, I guess. It's hard to be cynical when everything's awesome. This was, by far, my best birthday ever. The hangover's a bit heavy but most definitely worth it.

I'm doing fine. Everyday I try to learn or do something new. Small things, most of the time. I do some of my own laundry now. Making my own meals is the next endeavor. Without a fridge (and lots of bugs) it's hard to keep food around. But I figured I can keep some ham and cheese wrapped in plastic in my coolbox (covered under lots of ice). Eating home-made sandwiches is not necessarily cheaper then eating Khmer-food but man, those self-made sandwiches do taste delicious…

I'm slowly losing track of time. I've been here a while, that's for sure. Everything's happy-happy-lucky-lucky. Alas, still clueless about the long run. The PokerStars MicroMillions (a series of online poker tournaments) are coming up but that's just another way of saying that I have no clue how to keep my head above water long-term…

Tomorrow I'll leave Sihanoukville for a few days. A friend (yes, a Khmer girl) needs to go see a bank manager about a loan in her hometown. She believes bringing a white dude to the meeting will help her case. A few days away from my precious laptop might do me some good. So I agreed to go on this long trip to her far-away countryside village. We leave tomorrow in the morning. I hope to be back in a few days.

Some time on the road followed by more of this Sihanoukville smooth life. That's one happy-happy-lucky-lucky plan by one happy-happy-lucky-lucky man.

Happy or Hopeless

All the enlightenment, adventures and awesome experiences they promise you in guidebooks, travel agencies and outdoor stores are nothing but hollow words. The essence of travel is fruitlessly struggling with a severe lack of leg-space in a moving vehicle. That covers a large part of the trip. The rest of time is spend at 'obligatory' tourist hotspots, haggling about prices (getting scammed) and updating your Facebook-status regularly (to show your friends how cool you are)… Did modern-day backpacking ever really change anyone? Sure, a few backpackers die and others get fucked-up for life (on too much inferior dope) but the majority of them will be working a regular 9-to-5 in the near future…

Anyway, that's not my world anymore.

I've been happy in my quiet one-room appartment for two weeks now. A few days ago I bought an awesome second-hand Honda Wave to cruise to the beaches and all around town.. I sweep my room in the morning, go buy ice for my coolbox regularly and eat 3 meals a day (mainly cheap, delicious Khmer food and the occasional hot-dog/pizza/hamburger). On hot afternoons, I enjoy playing online poker. Opening the PokerStars-lobby feels like the most natural thing in the world when it's baking hot outside. I can play for hours on end without getting bored or stressed. The Full Tilt debacle is nothing but a distant memory. Just like Sihanoukville is supposed to smell like ganja, online poker is a respectable career choice in this town. I'm doing all right; grinding out a small profit (for the moment). The numerous power cuts can be a nuisance (especially in the heat of the game) but hey, I'm not complaining. In the worst-case scenario (a long power cut) I just close my laptop and drive out to the beach...

Life's good here. I'm living on my own. I like it that way. Sometimes I go out at night, more often I stay in and watch movies. It depends on how I feel. I wake up when I want, eat when I'm hungry, drink when I drive, take orders from no one and do as I please...

Happy or hopeless.
It's all fine by me.
I just like to enjoy this idyllic existence
for a little while/ for as long as it lasts

Rabbit In A Coma

The rabbit lays on the floor and doesn't move. It's not dead. Sometimes there's a small twitch in its ears or legs. Its heart beats peacefully. The rabbit is in a coma.

*

It doesn't look that way but in my mind I'm searching, yearning, looking for something all the time. By default, I'm pretty stressed-out. I can't sleep long. I can't stay in one place long. I need a good-structured schedule. I cannot fall behind. Need to keep moving, need to be more productive, need to find the answers to all the unknown questions. Somehow, somewhere - oh, if I was just able to figure it all out - it must be possible to complete the puzzle; to reach somewhere further than this meager existence. It's always been like this. That peculiar feeling, a grasp of something more... but not quiet clever enough to even have the vaguest clue what is that I'm after. Sometimes I'll relax due to natural causes. These times are rare and short. Pretty soon I turn into a chased-down rabbit again. I tried working-out 5 times a week and taking poker dead-serious. Hiking helps until I get back home. Most the time I'm balancing on a thin edge (but I hide it well). Always the chased rabbit, never the hunter. Stuck forever in a sketchy scene, a lousy bad dream. Something's going on but I never have a clue. Waking up too early but, nevertheless, always too late. It doesn't matter where I'm or what I'm doing. Belgium, India, previous trips to Cambodia… Forever running away from my own shadow, never content, always convinced that there's something more just behind the next bend in the road. If I could do everything right just this once…
That's how I struggle through my days. At least, it was until a few days ago. In my little room in Snooky, I'm living the life like I'm used to: books, movies, online poker, not going out so much, staying on my own most of the time. But something is different. I don't feel like running away. No bad dreams. No fear or pointless stress. I tend to sleep long, sober and well. The restlessness has seized (for now). Like one little piece of the puzzle clicked in place. It looks like I'll be here for a while. Still I don't know what it is that I hope to find. But it has to be here. Living on my own in Sihanoukville; I'm no longer scared of my own shadow. I wouldn't know where to run away to next. I want to stay. Right here, on my own. For once, I'm no longer a chased rabbit. Not haunted by the usual demons. I can't afford to do nothing indefinitely but this peace of mind is priceless. This is my place. At least, (for now) I'm (almost) sure it is.

*

The rabbit is in a deep sleep. Its heart beats peacefully, its ears and legs twitch occasionally. In its little rabbit-brain it dreams about Happy-Lucky-Little-Rabbit-Land. Sweet dreams in a happy place. But it knows. The rabbit knows. In the end here are only two ways out of here. One's darkness, the other… back on its pointless, restless run. Luckily the end is far away. Let the rabbit sleep. It does no harm. It doesn't bother anyone.

What's So Special About Cambodia?

# Everything Goes - "No Money, No Honey"

Cambodia is the last bastion of freedom. Anything you wish, crave or desire is available at a very reasonable price. Everyone can open a restaurant, start a business, become a teacher or live on a beach for months on modest savings. All it takes is the desire to do it. Yes, there's plenty of drugs and plenty of booze in Cambodia. But it's really not that outrageous as it might look from afar. Maybe drugs are a bit more openly available and drinking heavily a bit more common here than in Europe. It's beside the point, really. It depends more upon the people you hang out with it than the country you're in. Junks and drunks will find ways to get their fix anywhere. Some still see Cambodia as a paradise for sex tourist. It might have been in the nineties; today it's not like that anymore. But don't take my word for it; The Post ran an excellent article about this subject a few weeks ago ("Professional girlfriends: Moving beyond sex work" by Dr Heidi Hoefinger). Feminists, backpackers and other moral-high-ground-goofballs love Sex And The City but cry "Victim!" when they see a Khmer (Cambodian) girl with a barang (white man)... Oh well, when you come with an open-mind and without instant-judgements; Cambodia is a free-spirited, fun-loving country in the sun. Being friendly and respectful is all it takes to get along. Everything goes; even better, everything goes with a smile!


# The Buddha Always Smiles - "Same, Same But Different"

Cambodia is a country of smiles. On average, people are incredibly friendly and laid-back. This is a place (contrary to the European rat race) where being quiet and gentle will get you further than acting like an aggressive, big-mouth macho. Reaching an agreement that's good for everybody is often preferred over gaining maximum personal profit. Even religion is relaxed here. It's the only place in the world where there's room for laughter and jokes during religious ceremonies. Cambodia is nowhere near as dangerous as some people still think it is. Violence against barangs (foreigners) is extremely rare. On the contrary, being surrounded by friendly, smiling people forces you to become more sociable, friendly and laid-back. It's hard to be shy and hide away in a place like this. It's all good; the Buddha always smiles!


# Tomorrow Never Comes - "Next Year? Next Life!"

Cambodia is all about the sweet urgency of now. Satisfaction is usually preferred over working hard to save for a rainy day. Far more than anywhere else, life is about happiness instead of longevity. Smokes are cheap, speeding on a motorbike is the norm, gambling is welcomed. Urgent medical attention or a steady income are hard to find. Worrying about the future only brings headache. Tomorrow's always uncertain. So it's better to dance today!


I rest my case. These are just a bunch of general statements, made by a white dude living the good life in a beachtown. The Kingdom of Cambodia is much, much more than this (both in good and bad ways). The only way to really understand what makes Cambodia unique is to visit the country yourself…

Why not spend your next holiday in Cambodia?

A Place In The sun

Back in Sihanoukville… After two days in a guesthouse on Occheuteal Beach, I moved to a one room apartment in a quiet street. It's a great place with luxury items such as a TV and a hot shower.

Only after I had paid for a month upfront, I discovered a few empty condom wraps and a usb-stick with 4 gig of Japanese porn under the bed. OK, that got me motivated to go buy a broom and cleaning products. The whole first day I spend cleaning and scrubbing all by myself. It felt damn good. I can take care of myself. This is better than that pointless photo-safari of the last few weeks. Cleaning never felt so liberating... It was late afternoon when everything looked spotless and fresh. I lit my first cigarette of the day and listened to an early Springsteen album. Oh yeah, this is my place now!

From my second-floor room I look out over tropical vegetation and the sea in the distance. The landlord is a friendly gamble-happy drunk, children shout "Hello" every time I enter the gate and the neighbors are a typical mix of Sihanoukville characters. (Well, the rent is $100/month so that should keep the worst lowlifes out) So far I've met a middle-aged English man who lives with a Khmer girl, a lady-boy, a tough looking white dude, 2 local girls who work in a nearby karaoke parlor and a gay couple. Right across the street they serve great Khmer meals for a dollar. I'm close enough to the beach to walk there in daytime but just far enough to discourage myself to get out for 'just one beer' late at night. There's a solid lock on my door and the whole building is surrounded by big walls and an iron gate. I think I'll love it here.

The best part is that I did it all by myself. I'm not moving in with some girl. I'm not following directions out of a guide book. This is my place, my choice. I've always wanted to live near the sea. I've always wanted to be free and independent. This is it, my own place in the sun…

This time I want to do things right. Not smoking dope, not drinking too much and making damn sure not to get romantically involved with a local girl. That was sort of the plan from the beginning. India was nothing but a cover. There was no way I could tell the good folks back home that I was returning to Sihanoukville without looking like a junk or a pervert. Maybe I started to believe my own cover story too much in the end.

Anyway, I'm back and I'm doing well. I just had an internet connection installed. All settled, now I've got more than 11 months to figure out a scheme to stay afloat in this town…

I Don't Wanna Be Your Dog

After 11 days on the road, I'm heading to Koh Kong today. Back to the Kingdom after all. Well, everybody knows. That's how it goes. I long intensely for the pure freedom and brutal honesty of Cambodia. It's one of the only places left where dollars are the only documents required, where life is simple, the weather is great and people are friendly.

I had hoped to find some of that freedom out on the road but I was terribly mistaken. Rules and regulations are everywhere these days. There's no escape. Getting a room in a guesthouse in India takes more paperwork than getting married in Cambodia. Smoking and drinking are hideous crimes in too many places. Trying to bring a simple lighter into Delhi airport caused a whole scene. I really don't want to deal with all this nonsense anymore.

And then there's the backpacking/ traveling crowd. All this pressure, all this machismo. All this "you really should go there, visit that, don't miss out on…" or stories like "I only payed a buck, ate dog shit with the locals and sleep only in the dirtiest dorms" I'm getting tired and stressed just by listening to their stories. They are just another pack of dodos. They might cover more distance but dodos nevertheless; just running around in a different kind of rat race.
Not me.
Not anymore.
My own dog and whatnot.
Up to border!

The Last Banana

Life's been good since I climbed Bokor Mountain. I can hear the music playing. I'm dancing. I'm sliding along.

The night Lisa left me hanging at the Blissful bar I went out for a nightly walk. No more fear of roaming dogs. Just dance along, you know. It worked out well. Got drunk (somehow all my Kampot stories seem to end that way...) and chatted for hours with a few friendly expats in a quiet riverside bar. Meeting people is easy if you have a white face walking around dark Kampot.

Days drift by. It's been a week since I got here. Time to go. I could easily linger on. But there's one last stop that I have to make. On Monday morning I board the bus to Phnom Penh. No worries. I've phoned ahead. They are expecting me. Back to the place where it all started….

The legendary
The one and only
"Phnom Penhs answer to Heaven on Earth"
Top Banana Guesthouse

It's hard to exaggerate the impact of the Banana on the way things went down. Eight years ago I came straight out of the Laos jungle into Phnom Penh and on to the Top Banana rooftop. Someone offered me a joint even before I had the time to take my backpack off. That was just the beginning. It was like coming home to a place I had never been before. Not mentioned in any guide book. The only way to get there was if you happened to meet someone who had experienced the Banana before. Finding the place and climbing the stairs was not easy. But once you made it, it was all good. We were all friends there. The Magic Box never ran out of weed. The music never stopped. We were all dancing. Sliding along. A friendly, wonderful rooftop in the middle of a wild, crazy city. It was a wonderful time. High and happy days on the roof, wild times in the city. But I was just a foolish kid. Very young and very naive. I thought I was tough and could hang out with the big boys. I was wrong. I fell in love with the first girl I met. Ten months later we were married in Sihanoukville. The crazy Banana days forever gone.

Today I'm back. The rooftop is still here. The owner's still the same. Everything else has changed. Phnom Penh has moved forward rapidly in the last few years. This town is rather decent, friendly and safe for a capital city in the developing world. Top Banana went the same way. The guest rooms have improved and are moved to the first floor. The second floor rooftop has been converted into a full-scale hipster bar. The days of the Magic Box are long gone. They have a whole staff working here now. People come and go. If you've never been here before it's hard to imagine what it was like. For me it's different. I look around and all I can see are images from the past flashing through my mind. I even found the outlines of my old room on the rooftop floor. Back at the beginning. It looks like I made it. It's here I gave up the dreams of my youth for a silly thing called love. It's here I'll start over again. The last ghost is the Banana.

Of course, it's never that easy. Life never goes as planned. I cannot just sit here and declare my new found independence. Ghosts aren't beaten that easily. So I did what I'm used to by now: I danced. When a few backpackers asked me to join them for a drink in a nearby bar I said yes. We had a few boring beers. I left early and went back to my room. Checked my phone and found a text message from Daria. She's in town. In fact, she's in a bar down the street. She wants to see me one last time. 'Why Not?' we used to say in the old days.

I get over there and we have a few drinks. No tears, no anger, no trouble. Just a friendly conversation. Once you know what you want, life gets easy. This time I speak freely about my dreams. My burning desire doesn't involve her but the wide world out there. She can hear there's no more doubt in my voice. She accepts it. Well, I've been on the run for over a week so my Mr. Righteous image is pretty much crushed anyway. It's all cool. I even invite her over to the Banana rooftop. We have more beers and talk 'till late into the night. She speaks about her own plans for the future and wishes me all the best with realizing my dreams. The drinks and the rooftop have a strange effect on me. Eight years ago I sat here and fell in love with a no-good girl, tonight I'm back here with a Cambodian lady but only to say goodbye. From the corner of my eye, I see the last ghost crawling over the rooftop railing and jumping down.
The end.

Tomorrow I'll leave alone. I'll stuff my backpack with cheap t-shirt and crappy Buddha statues. The ghosts stay here. Now all I long for is a final exit stamp. There's a whole world beyond the Cambodian border. I think I should go and have a look.
The Fishy Trail starts here.

The Mountain

"One beer?", the barman asks. "Yes, please", my standard reply.

I sit alone at the Blisful bar. So this it. Failure. I tried really hard. It didn't work. Spend the entire afternoon looking for a tour to take me up Bokor Mountain. No luck. Everywhere the same story. Rainy season. Bad weather. No tourists. Tomorrow no, maybe the day after. Well, I'm not going to sit around for another day. I'm just going to finish this beer, walk across the street and buy a bus ticket back to Snooky. There are choices that have to be made. The solitary, intrepid traveller is a nice dream. But it's not me. Dreaming is easy, doing is too hard. I'm not that strong. Return to Snooky, apologize to Daria and stay with her for as long as she'll want me to. Just keep doing what I'm doing. Forget self-fulfillment, the meaning of life, true love and the Greater Good. My options are limited. I'm a simple dude. I know my limitations. At least, in Snooky I'm not alone.

Lost in these dark thoughts, I almost didn't notice a blond, white girl coming over to the bar and asking for the phone. I hear her say the the magic word.
Bokor
Really? Did I hear that right? I hesitate.
Can I? Should I? Then I gather whatever little courage I have left and ask:
"Euhmm, excuse me, euhh... Bokor? The Mountain? You're going to Bokor Mountain tomorrow?"
"Yes", was her friendly reply. We even chatted a while. Her name's Lisa. A blond, white girl from California. An unexpected turn of events. I always thought a deus ex machina was strictly reserved for bad script writers. The simple fact that I'm having this conversations seemed utterly impossible less than 5 minutes ago. The words of the cow flash through my mind: "You gotta dance" I ask if I may join her, take out my phone and book a ticket.

Bokor Mountain is a National Park just over the river from Kampot. It's a spectacular 1000m up from sea-level. On the top, there are the ruins of a casino build by the French. In the sixties King Sihanouk reopened it. Later on a Khmer Rouge stronghold until the late nineties. There are many rumors and stories about Bokor. A lot of bad shit happened up there. Nowadays, that creepy atmosphere is somewhat gone as they started rebuilding the casino. That doesn't matter much to me. I've been longing to go up there since 2004. Family life in Snooky always got in the way. This time nothing holds me back no more. This time I'll get up the mountain and leave the ghosts from my Cambodian past behind.

The next morning a mini-bus picks us (us as in 'Lisa and I') up and together with another eight people we start the drive. A group op ten, that's very crowded. Groups and I don't mix. So I just let the conversations go by and stare out of the window. It takes ages before we reach the top. Especially because our guide insists on making lots of stops at places I don't care about. For me it's just about the top.

On the third stop the guide starts speaking about wading through a river to a beautiful waterfall. He must be joking, right? That's more than I can handle. I've only got the casino on my mind. While the rest of the group takes off their shoes and rolls up their trousers I ask if they come back the same way.
"Yes but really beautiful waterfall", answers the guide.
"I'll wait", I say, light a cigarette and sit down on a rock. The group looks at me in disgust and wades of to the waterfall. Listen, I didn't escape a troublesome relationship just to get in different spots where I have to do shit I don't want or don't care about. Fuck groups. I'm my own dog now. I've seen enough waterfalls. Anyway, thanks to this little rebellion the rest of the group ignores me for the rest of the day. Perfect. At the following stops, I just wander around on my own while they cling to the guide like a group of sheep to the herder.

At last, after hours and hours of anticipation we reach the top. It's clear weather. The view over the Cambodian coastline is breathtaking. I leave the group behind and run off to the ruined casino. I made it! The only place along the Cambodian coast I've never been before. I sit on a rock and look at the casino for a long, long time. Of course, it's far less spectacular than in my dreams but that's irrelevant. I did it. I conquered the mountain. I escaped. I've been dreaming about this for seven years.

Up on Bokor Mountain, at last.
There's no going back to Snooky after this.
Time to throw my ghosts over the cliff and start a-fresh.

The end. Now let's get down before the rain comes in. Unfortunately, with groups it's not that easy. We are supposed to, at least partly, hike down. Fuck me. People don't belong in the jungle. It's were the animals live. Anyway, this time I decide to tread along. It's a new beginning after all. So we all hike down a tiny jungle trail while dark clouds roll over Bokor. At times I hardly see anything, stumbling over fallen down trees, slipping and sliding on the muddy trail. A misty jungle is not a happy place. Soon I'm soaking wet. The humidity is disgusting. I'm sweating like a feverish pig. Not my idea of a nice afternoon. But hey, suffer long enough and the simple pleasure of just seeing a paved road can fill you with warm, fuzzy happiness. The best part of the jungle is getting out of it.

The tour continues on. Back on the road, the guide and driver help to get the leeches of our arms and legs (I only got one, not bad). Then it's back in the bus and on to the river for a sunset boat trip. At least this part is easy. Drinking cold beer while the tiny fishing boat slowly goes upriver. Nothing but jungle and hills all around. I feel relaxed, happy almost.

It's well after dark when we return to Kampot. Lisa and I walk back to Blissful Guesthouse together. She goes up to her room. I take a well deserved shower and return to my usual spot at the bar. Shortly after Lisa joins me and we have a few beers together. Then we go for dinner at a roadside stall. It sure is nice to take a blond Californian girl out. Alas, strictly for bragging rights. She keeps telling the same stories over and over again. I don't have much to add. When we return to the bar, she tells me to wait for her while she goes up to her room for a moment, I feel somewhat relieved. A cold beer on my own, at last! Half way through the third beer I realize that she's not coming back. Oh well, that's fine by me. Girls only lead to trouble, after all. It was a good day.

Bokor mountain took me far beyond (what I thought to be) my own limitations.
Maybe there's a life for me away from Snooky after all...