Dinner with the locals

(This post was written last night, to be published today.)

I just got back from dinner at this tiny little roadside restaurant, where my friend and I were the only guests and the rest of the team – a family, or close friends – sat at the neighboring table and had their own dinner.

It was a bit late when we met up, close to eight, and I wasn’t sure if there was going to be any place open. My neighborhood is pretty safe, but still I’m not sure how good of an idea it is to go wandering about at night on the third (fourth?) day in a foreign country. We were heading for somewhere a few blocks away but decided instead to turn down a closer street.

What we thought was a fairly large restaurant was in fact a gym (take note, Gillian who hasn’t been exercising in god knows how long), but this place was not far away and appeared somewhat open.

We asked them and they happily welcomed us. One of them spoke very good English and came to chat with us and take our order. They didn’t have a menu, but told us what they had. I ordered fried noodles with beef and my friend a chicken soup. Once that was taken care of, our new Cambodian friend stayed to ask us what we were doing in the country, and chatted amiably for quite a while.

We ordered a couple beers, the local brand (Angkor), and he headed off to the table next to ours, coming back a few minutes later to offer a cheers, which his table seemed to be doing an inordinate amount of.

The food came in a bit, and turns out, it was delicious. Simple, but very good, and we had a lovely time eating. At the end there was a bit of a mixup on the bill – the girl gave us 300 riel back when it should have been 13000 – but after finally working out that there was a problem, Gillian having issues with her very latent math skills, we turned back in the rain and explained. They were very nice about it and we got the extra 10000, so it worked out well.

But let me tell you about this place. Like all of the restaurants, it lacked a front wall, inside spilling out into the street. The walls were whitewashed and tiny little lizards skittered across them. The tables and chairs were plastic, the dishes and the chopsticks white. Out front a cart to make the munchies or the meat, I’m not sure, but covered with some kind of umbrella, either with the Angkor logo or something similar.

The floor inside was tiled, and a covering stretched out into the street, protecting from the rain, which has been downpouring since about six o’clock this evening.

I fully intend on returning, because now, I think, I can maybe make friends with the owners. The food was good, and cheap – two fifty for the meal, about 90 cents for the beer.

When I got home, sticky and wet for the monsoon, I took a cold shower and listened to the rain hit the metal roof. Tonight I really enjoy my life; I confess to being a bit lonely earlier on, having gotten very used to having my family a phone call/text away. Now, we’re separated by thirteen hours and a very large ocean. I’m settled enough to start missing everyone, my friends and family, but after a dinner like that, I’m reminded why I did what I did and flew halfway around the world. Crazy, sure.

But so very worthwhile.