This came quite soon after SR#1. In my spate of hippie-ness, I started to chill out and as a result, get into long conversations with the local moto guys. I was seen having these meandering conversations with them, talking about life, where I’d like to go (in life or on his moto I know noto), how long we’d been talking, ladies, etc.
I started to understand these guys, and more importantly started to treat them with respect. These guys ride around all day and all night, being friendly and working hard to make a living. Maybe each guy will only ride a few people each day, but that’s his job. Some of them are married and have kids, some came down from Phnom Pehn to pursue their dreams. But pretty much all of these guys are kind, nice and do their best to please the hordes of tourists. Their English is great, despite having little or no formal training. I was riding on the back of one guy and he asked me if I could teach him some polite words to say to foreigners. “Sure!” I said and proceeded to give him some tips in being formal but cool. Then I thought, what a nice guy. He’s just driving a bike, but he wants to practice his skills so one day he can drive a real taxi. I looked and noticed he was wearing a collared shirt and was more professional and conversational than any taxi driver I had had before.
Since then, I’ve been making friends with these guys all over the place. I walked past a group of them who were celebrating the Kmer New Year and then they made me come and drink beer with them, after which they all embraced me (I checked my wallet afterward, don’t worry.. all there). It was nice. I chose the one who didn’t finish his beer to drive me, though.
So it’s been really cool to discover another side of this place. I always say that the charm of a new place is its people. Cambodians have proven to be kind, hospitable, good-natured and very generous. In a restaurant, you may only be paying 1 or 2 dollars for your food, but the plate which comes will be a huge serving, be it a huge pile of mashed potato or a massive potato (chips) salad and resembled more of a mountains, given all the garnishings.
Back to the moto guys. Before this realization, my regular conversation with an MG would have been something like:
“Hey mister, you wanna [_________]?”
[________] = go somewhere/smoke something/meet lady
“No.”
Can be replaced with ok/yes/alright fine I need a ride!
But now, it’s all different. Now my conversation goes something like:
“Hey mister, you wanna go somewhere?”
“Sure, where shall we go.”
“Up to you, I can do go anywhere.”
“Anywhere, really? You must know a lot of places. Where’s a good place?”
“You like lady?”
“Ladies are great. I love ladies. Long hair, yeah, awesome.”
“Ok sir I’ll take you to ladies.”
“We’re going to hunt for ladies on your bike? That’s a great idea!”
And so that’s how I found myself sitting in a room with mirrors and an interior design job straight from 80′s Russia. Some girl was talking in my ear about sitting with her. My taxi driver was smiling and drinking a beer. I asked him why I felt like I was being hunted. It sure was an adventure, but I wanted him to get rid of this lady talking in my ear. His meager efforts were unsuccessful as were my shoves. Then they gave me a book to read, but it was more of a book with photos of girls. As such there was no real story to be had, only that I supposed they were now asking me which picture I liked. I asked if I could read it again because I didn’t get it the first time, but the book had gone. I suppose you only got one chance. I told my taxi driver to finish his beer, this wasn’t fun.
On the way back, I realized we were next to the sea port. There were little shanty houses on our left, pink lights in the verandah and rooms open, matresses seen inside. Girls were sitting around in huddles outside. They called to me and I waved back, but I couldn’t really make out if their faces were happy or not. It reminded me of a camp site, back in Australia, small campside lights illuminating part of the face, sitting around in the dark, telling stories. Here, though this must be the end of the line for a lot of these girls. So many of them calling me to join them. I think the moto guy had misunderstood my enthusiasm for ladies. Or maybe I had misunderstood the question. Either way, I hadn’t come here for this.
I told my driver to go to the guesthouse. We turned around and as we did, a girl came running over to us. She spoke English and asked me to take her. I said we were just looking here, and we were going. She offered to come with me for $20. I asked her how much of that money she gets. $10 for her and $10 for mamasan. “But first two months, all for mama to pay my debt.” I told her sorry and then went back toward her little hut. I couldn’t see her anymore in the dank pink light. I tapped my driver on the shoulder we left the little houses and all the little girls in them behind.
I will stay in this town for another night, work on my tan and then tomorrow leave for Phnom Penh and later, Siem Reap with it’s famous temple.
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