Whoops...

Oh Christ, sorry!

I have fallen somewhat behind with this blog. Oh yes, you heard me correctly. Don’t try to defend me please, it’s my own fault. No…no I won’t hear you talk about yourself in that manner. I don’t mind if you didn’t notice, I should have updated more regardless. Anyway, you are forgiven.

So, Cambodia then. Seems like a good place to start. I actually wrote a journal while I was over there, but so far it has failed to have taken the leap from page to screen. This is the small amount I did manage to type up:

Cambodia travel journal:

December the 23rd.

Siem Reap. I am reliably informed that this translates as “Siam Defeated” or somesuch. Of course, the first wildlife I see is a Siamese cat sniffling for food. Today was a quiet day, mainly due to us landing here at gone 10pm. After what could euphemistically be called an uneventful flight we arrived at an airport roughly the size of the average Next menswear department and greeted with all the hospitality of a small button mushroom. After being herded through the Visa queue ($20!) and customs line we emerged into the night to be greeted by several grinning taxi drivers. Taxi drivers aren’t supposed to grin. They’re supposed to complain about Margaret Thatcher or how they’ve had Gaby Roslin’s gynaecologist in their cab. These ones appear neither to bear any Poll Tax grudges nor know what a gynaecologist is. They were happy. Inviting even. Our guesthouse was supposed to pick us up from the airport but are a no-show. The smiling cabbies have their day. We picked the least bedraggled and made our way to his car. A Toyota Camry. Remember this, it will become important later on. “$5!” he chimed. What a nice man.

7 minutes later and we arrive at the guesthouse. The staff wear “OMG WTF!?!” faces and bluster around the padlocked gates. The cabbie is still smiling as he claims he told us $5 each. The guesthouse has no record of our booking. Our bags are heavy. We pay the taxi driver with $7 and a scowl, we press ourselves onto the guesthouse staff and we barge our way into any rooms they have going. One double and a single. That was the plan. One double and a double will have to suffice.

Inside. Not the Ritz. Not the Hilton. Not even the Trave linn. More like the cabin. Any cabin. On an allotment. I check the bathroom; windows with no glass and bug nets riddled with deceased beasties. The taps work. The showers works and, thank god, the flush works. I decided to unpack the essentials; pajamas, iPod, notebook and pen mosquito repellent. Early night so I tuck the bug net in around the surprisingly cushy mattress and settle down to an evening of Queen.

December the 24th: Christmas Eve.

Wake up far too early. Listen to iPod again and go for a shower. Take the iPod off first though. Obviously. Turn the handle, the water still runs. Lovely. Step under. Step out again rather quicker. Cold. No visible way to heat the stream of water so grunt and bear it, it’s hot out anyway. It’s uncomfortably cold, like lying naked on an upturned filing cabinet, but still, it feels better to be clean. Water off, soap out, wash hair. Rather an impressive lather going so I play the stylist. Mohican. Dickensian. Dracula. My imagination wasted I decide to finish. Turn the handle. More cold water. Or rather, not. No water of any temperature. Turn the knob again. Nothing. Turn the tap. A rattling, a grumbling, but no water. Bugger it.

I consider my options;

1: Get dressed, hair still resembling a Mohawk, and request the use of the others’ bathroom
2: Spit in a glass and use that.

Not much choice really until I notice the bottles of drinking water lovingly sprawled across a desk. It’s a shame to waste them but it’s better than looking like a creamy Mr T for the rest of the day.

Finish up shower and go for breakfast.

It was pretty much downhill from there*. I’ve stuck a few photos on anyway.

So, has anything happened since? Not really. I now have 3 fewer lessons a week than I did last semester, 4 if you count the fact that my mountain school haven’t needed me for about a month now. This obviously has left me with quite a bit of spare time. What have you done with it? I hear you ask. Well not update my blog obviously.

Oh, and my car broke down, something to do with the spark plugs. Anyway, the mechanic type bloke told me that there was no point fixing it properly as something else would probably breakdown in tandem and render it all a bit silly. Hmm. Apparently my little car (christened “Sally” in an arcane ritual that I will not delve into here) has about 6 months left to live.

L

Oh well. I’ve already begun the hunt for Sally v2.0 and have a few promising leads. Will elaborate when I know more.

Other than that…well Hannah is coming over in April and the folks (you know who you are) are heading over in May. My plans remain the same; to come home at Christmas. That is, if I can afford it; turns out cars aren’t as cheap over here as I was told.

Anyway, I shall leave for the moment but believe me when I say I shall think of little else but this blog for at least the next 2 minutes.


*Just kidding, it was great.