just bought a second guesthouse, had to go to bangkok to get the money ( nobody in their right minds keeps their money in cambodia)
had a busy and boring week there, ATM dodgy, city glitzy, medical service the best and possibly also the cheapest in the world- still no fun-, computer fixed etc, so took care of all the tasks that accumulate when you live in a wildernis.
the great part was the trip home. well, taking a bus out of a city like bangkok ain' t too great, slow and hot, and forget about the two taxi cabs that broke down right in the middle of morning rush- had to change twice. eight hours later i was in a place called trad. anybody would find it boring there , i do not. great night market for food: excotic fruit, ready cooked thai meals on trays, or in big pots, where you chose the one that appeals most to you and they hand you a portion
any kind of fish and crustacian, small fruir that look like the real thing but are made out of a sweet bean paste, centucky fried chicken that puts the colonel to shame, and flowers for buddha, pink
and white lotus, strings of sweet smelling jasemine, and yellow marigolds for the many indian gods... and many expat friends to gossip with, while sharing a few cold ones and a profusion of saytays, grilled by a young - a bit more than sturdy- thai, ( well nobody should trust a thin chef...) the best saytays i know, especially the salad that goes with them ( will give you the receipe, should anybody want it..)
today, an early one, the cold ones pay me back, as i deserve. 5 am: the minibus. whenever there are nine people., it will take of to the border.
two hours later,at the cambodian botder there is mayhem. hundreds of minivans, filled with rambutans, magoesteens, pineaples and banans are waiting to clear the border to cambodia.. Coelies with three wheeled carts are unloading them, to go past , hmmm? customs? and wheel them to yet other minivans on the other side.
I fill in the forms , check out of thailand, and into my chosen homeland.I do not speak thai, but i do speak khmer, the simple feeling of understanding the language, of beeing able to answer, the cusom official that asks me to say hello to my neighbor, his brother, beeing able to call my guesthouse and to find everybody alive and well, what a feeling!Home!..
well almost, one look at the sea makes me take yet another minivan, i' d rather travel 12 hours through the mud and the jungle, than be sick in unison with another 99 fellow passengers.
the busride was greak, up to our knees in red mud we pushed our van everytime it got stuck, and dug out a few buddhist monks- i mean their truck..- while standing in the rain waiting for ferries, some of the boats really dodgy ones, made out of longtail boats, leashed together with rope ( strangely they are the ones that work best), enless jungle, didn 't mind it one bit, home....
and the moment turning the corner to the guesthouse, finding everybody healthy and alive, home.. later gong to my house an greetong - or better beeeing greeted by my bulldogs, i do not even mind- at least not too much- that they made a meal out of yet another one of my prize orchids, or that my new rattan sofa got drenched in a freak storm, just beeing home is great! now a cup of tea, and tomorrow back to normal, heaven...
don't judge book by the movie