Saturday Afternoon

Let me paint you a picture:

The patio is neat and deserted. Everyone is inside, as they well should be, but I wanted to sit here and watch. The tables are glass topped, and the patio is fenced in by black iron, every few tables a plant to add a touch of green. To my right, the parking lot; not much to see there, besides the army of motos and tuk tuks across the street, waiting in the shade for the customers leaving the shopping center.

In front of me the drive curls around to the parking garage. A staircase proclaiming "214Lounge" heads up to, presumably, a lounge, the 214 coming from the number of the street.

The ice cream in front of me is melting quickly in the hot air. Under the table are a couple bags with loot from the supermarket inside the shopping center; seasonings, a lot of noodle soup, balsamic vinegar and olive oil, a dustpan. The makings of a home, for less than fifteen dollars.

Lest you think it was too much like home, to the side of the parking lot are the little miniature temples, set up for the ancestors. They are like little gold houses on pedestals, intricately formed and beautiful, filled with small gifts and offerings. These offerings are everywhere -- unobtrusive, and you don't necessarily see them unless you're looking, but everywhere.

Behind them, the street is lined with palm trees and another kind of tree with a brilliant red flower. Everything is deeply green and deeply colorful. There's a white apartment building beyond, a few palm trees on a rooftop garden.

Things are completely uncertain, but at that moment, I was at peace. I realized that even if I succeed in giving only one private lesson a week -- people have been urging me to go the route of private tutoring -- it will essentially pay my grocery bills. The thought was quite encouraging, as I have been impatiently wondering just when I am going to start getting income.

Soon, I thought, savoring the now very gooey ice cream. The server, surprised I could speak even a few words of Khmer, asked me in Khmer if I spoke it. I stared at her blankly, but when she translated, I smiled.

Ch'hey tac tac, I said.

Only a little.