Running Away from the Elections, and the Backpackers: A trip to the coast

As some of you may or may not know, there were just elections in Cambodia. It's the first time since the Khmer Rouge that the opposition party, the Cambodia National Rescue Party, has had significant support, and the campaigning season has been crazy, with huge rallies for both sides anywhere you look. While it is common knowledge that the ruling party had the election rigged, suddenly it became much more of an issue. In the weeks leading up to the vote, the embattled leader of the CNRP, Sam Rainsy, who had been in self-exile (that or face a long prison term in Cambodia for phantom charges), was granted a royal pardon by Hun Sen himself, and returned to the country.

The vote is over now and both sides have claimed victory, with reports of serious voter and poll fraud and both sides pointing fingers, and calls for investigations and recounts and all sorts of crazy things.

That's a story for another post, however, and what I mean to say is, this past weekend when the vote happened was the perfect excuse to get out of the city. My flatmate has been itching for a vacation for awhile anyway, and I thought that sounded like a brilliant idea, so on Friday we hopped in a taxi and headed south.

The road to Sihanoukville is very well taken care of -- and it needs to be. The main cargo shipping port is there and if the trucks carrying the shipping containers can't get there, the whole economy stalls. So instead of the very suspect and pot-hole filled road to Siem Reap, the road to Sihanoukville is smooth and paved.

The town itself is sprawled on the hilly coast, somewhat badly organized and winding. The second stoplight arrived recently, and the roads are mostly paved these days. It's developing quickly, but slightly too fast for itself and kind of haphazardly. Still, my first impression was that it was charming, with the hills and the one main street.

After getting everything organized for the rest of the weekend, we headed down to Serendipity Beach, down a short slope and then sprawling to both sides in boardwalks and restaurants. To the left, the sand beaches and restaurants, paroled by a few dozen women and children selling manicures, bracelets, and a waxing service that somehow ingeniously uses dental floss and baby powder to remove hair. To the right, the bungalows, a boardwalk of small beach-side bars and a number of huts built into the sleeply sloping hillside, which is where we stayed the first night.

Where we stayed the first night

Very happy to be away from the madness!

It was lovely -- except, of course, the booming bass music from across the beach, where the backpackers apparently partied until past 5am, right about the time the rain started and more or less drowned out the end of the party. By that time it was about time to get up anyway, and we were on a shuttle bus by seven, heading to the shipping port where a ferry would take us out to the island. It was a quiet enough ride until all the seats filled up and we stopped one more time to pick up a large group of still-drunk British backpackers, whose first words upon getting on the bus were, "Sorry guys, we're drunk as shit."

They were covered in paint (paint!) from the previous night's party and filling the bus with loud, inane chatter, including announcing very loudly that the people sitting down didn't appear to be enjoying their banter (really, ya think?). Needless to say, when we all saw that they were occupying the top level of the boat, we immediately went to the bottom level.

The boat ride to Koh Rong, our final destination, is supposedly two hours but actually closer to two and a half or three -- so long. When we arrived, a chipper expat hopped on the boat to inform us that there would be a briefing about the island's "activities" at the nearby guesthouse, but sensing a backpacker trap, my flatmate and I jumped off the boat as soon as possible and went peeling away from the backpacker area of the island, filled with dorm rooms and "As long as you're still drinking, we're still open" signs.

I have yet to really understand the bungalow phenomenon, let alone the concept of an "upscale" bungalow, but the place we went was supposedly upscale -- I guess that means you pay for privacy, your own hut, and no backpackers. The bungalow was tucked up into the gently sloping hills, a short walk from the large hut that doubled as common chill out area and restaurant, and the beach.

After some food and getting checked in, we headed straight for the beach for some sunbathing, though I forgot to check that my sunblock wasn't actually water-resistant, and after two and a half hours, I woke up from a nap to discover that I was seriously burned -- actually, as the day went on, it got worse and worse, developing into a very painful red. Whoops.

Sometimes I sits and thinks, and sometimes I just sits. 

The third day, second on the island, passed in peace. Mostly, I sat on a rock in the shade and read, or stared at the water. Later on, when it was dark and nobody was on the beach, I took the recommendation of a friend and went for a late-night, unclothed swim, which wasn't nearly as terrifying as I might have thought, deep water and darkness not being my favorite things in the world. I discovered that the sea there has the special phosphorescent algae that lights up the water when you move your body.

Then it was Monday and time to go back to an uneasily quiet city, but in between Koh Rong and Phnom Penh was a long and rainy boat ride and a longer drive. I was not looking forward at all to the boat ride, as it was a rainy and windy morning. However, I took my towel up to the less-populated upper deck and found the ride to actually be very strangely enjoyable. I realized that the rocking felt much like riding an elephant in Siem Reap, which was quite comforting, and the wind in my face was refreshing, watching the rain move in and out, obscuring the shore and the islands from view. It did get kind of cold when the rain started, but a good samaritan lent me an extra towel to hide under.

The weekend was not really a stop so much as a pause, but it was very welcome. Sleep comes early as there isn't much to do after dark, unless you want to head down to the backpacker area and drink yourself to oblivion (clearly that was high on my priority list). Time moves impossibly slowly when you have nothing to do, and by the end I was glad to return and get back into the swing of things -- though I admit that trying to think again on Tuesday morning after four days of staring at the water and not thinking was a bit of a struggle.

And next time, I'm going to be a bit more careful on that stupid sunblock...

Meanwhile, back on the ranch

Although my first anniversary in Cambodia has come and gone, it's been such a crazy month that I haven't spent a lot of time reflecting on how my perspective on the country has changed since I arrived -- or my perspective on where I fit into the picture and how. There is a time for reflection, of course, but I'm not sure if now is it -- sometimes, I think, it doesn't matter what's changed, just where you are now, and where you want to go. 

I have been noticing in the past week I've been thinking about America a lot. Some of it has been plain old homesickness, mostly for the seasons. I missed winter, and now I'm missing summer, the long days and the Colorado blue skies. I've been missing baseball, fresh salads, and going for walks in the mild evening air after dinner. 

It's gotten me thinking how, after a year living abroad (in a very, very different country) has not only changed my perspective on where I am, but where I come from. I know being back in the States in March was a really crazy experience in a lot of ways. It's not that "absence makes the heart grow fonder" and the things that made me want to leave seem less negative, nor that all I can see now is what's wrong. 

In fact, it's more that I just look back at it, and see it. The politics as a steaming cesspot of extremism and furious people who believe they must always be right (on both sides, I mean, but it's true that the conservatives in America these days are being downright scary), the media in all its sensationalist and outrage-mongering glory, and the absolute travesty of the healthcare system (and the mind-blowing resistance to fixing it) -- but also, I find myself appreciating the quality of education (but not the system itself) and the self-made man attitude that is still pervasive. The "work hard enough and you can" mentality.  

With my current struggle to figure out where funding is supposed to come from for a budding dance company, I've been thinking about national arts councils and support systems, like the National Endowment for the Arts, however much the budget is getting cut, at least it exists. Real theaters, art museums. 

Sometimes, it's just the simple things -- like sidewalks, clean streets, and some semblance of order in a crazy world. Sometimes the things I miss are the things that freak me out when I'm home, like supermarkets and wide streets. 

There's also my increasing feeling that my home, Colorado, is not America, it's Colorado. America as a whole is not a place I want to spend a lot of time in, for much of the above reasons. But, Colorado is somewhere I could probably deal with. Of course, I have to remember that Colorado is still in America, and the back and forth continues. 

The point I think I'm trying to make is that things aren't simple. There is the Big Stuff going on that I am not at all a fan of, and small things that both totally throw me off for a few days when I'm there and become little beacons of comfort when I'm not. It's kind of confusing, really, to know that there are a lot of things I really disagree with as far as the direction the country is going, and yet somehow it's still home, and thinking of going back eventually to live with my family is not at all a bad thought. 

I'm currently in a week where I'm not feeling at all sure what future Cambodia holds for me, and if it is, actually, where I can make things happen. I'm questioning a lot of things, including how much I need to be questioning, and generally speaking, these days I'm not sure at all where I would be better off. So, I'm just trying to look at what's here and what's there, in all fairness to each place as where and when and how it is. 

And in the meantime, I guess I don't have to be sure. I have ideas and there are still pathways here I haven't explored, and I would not want to leave before fully exploring all of them just because someone didn't make it to the summit on the path before me. I don't need to know how long I'm staying or where I should be, just make the best of the time that I'm here, follow each opportunity to its fullest extent, and decide what to do after that. 

Year 23, Year 1: Luck and blessings

I suppose it's technically year 24, as today I am 23 and entering my 24th year of life. I suppose it should also be year 2, as I have just finished year 1 in Cambodia and year 1 of Real Life not in school.

Whatever year, it's new for me, and my overwhelming emotion for the day is gratitude.

I make some luck for myself, but I'm also on the receiving end of a ridiculous amount. I can't take credit for a lot of it, and I don't dare ever take it for granted. I'm overwhelmed by the love and support of my friends and family, by the fact that I get paid to do what I love and somehow my dreams are coming true, day by day and second by second. Every day is a blessing and a gift.

As for one year in Cambodia -- I'm excited to see what the next year can bring. This is the longest I've been anywhere away from home, and have had a tendency before to build half a life and then leave it and go onto the next thing. Now, I'm taking the time to build something here.

Tonight everything is sunshine and roses, but of course this whole year wasn't all fun and games. As you saw from my blog posts, especially in February, this year has challenged me in more ways than I thought was possible, and pushed me further than I thought was possible. It's been a struggle, and some days I got up to fight and some days I just buried my head.

But I don't want to talk about that today. That is that and now is now, and now I am blessed beyond belief.

Let's see what fantastic stuff comes up in year 23....

Finding the next Khmer Michael Jackson -- The pop music industry in Cambodia

I've been working for Cambodian Television Network (CTN) for a little over six months now, and over that time I've seen a lot of pop singers coming in and out. I've been listening to the music, watching the performances, and generally observing.

I previously spent a lot of time complaining how all the songs sound the same. That's not quite true, as I've since learned to discern the differences, but it is true that, like most pop songs, there's a formula -- 2-4 counts of 8 for an intro, a verse of 4 or 8 counts of 8, a chorus of the same, a 2 to 4 counts of 8 solo, and then another verse and two choruses to the end. There are very, very few that veer too far from this. The one time we had a song in three, my dancers freaked out.

Roughly half of the singers actually perform their songs live (it just occurred to me if I'm really supposed to be disclosing this...but, I doubt it's much of a secret). A good number seem quite unsure of the songs, and when they do sing live, aren't exactly sure when their entrance is. Once on stage, they remain stuck more or less in one place with their microphone. The girls are usually in such tight dresses or such high heels (or both) that doing anything else would be dangerous. If there are two of them, one in awhile they'll change places.

In the dressing rooms, they're nice enough, even the bigger stars. They always have an entourage, or at least one person (usually I guess it's a younger sibling) to do their hair and help them with their shoes. They borrow makeup sometimes, liberally splash white powder on their faces (like everyone else, including the MCs), and sit quietly with their smartphone/tablet until it's time to sing.

So all of this was observed, and then the switch went, and I got curious. One of the singers performing last weekend was singing live, with a really great voice, and I went looking for songs on the internet. He's one of the bigger stars here, but I can only find three songs. And that's when I started asking questions. Who are these people, where do they come from, how do they get where they are and why don't most of them seem to know their songs, how do they make money, and really, what's going on here.

Turns out, most don't seem to know their own songs because they aren't their songs at all. There are a few large production companies/recording labels, and they write songs. Since there's a formula that works more or less, they follow the formula. Or, they'll translate a foreign song into Khmer. Then, they'll hire a voice to record the song, and release the album as a compilation. Then, they'll trot the singer off to perform on various television stations/events.

The singers themselves are paid for the recording and for the events. They are all of course screened for lookability. But they don't do anything themselves -- not the music, not the lyrics, and no dance. I'm sure there are some exceptions, but I haven't found them yet. Some bands -- like Dengue Fever and the Cambodian Space Project, which aren't really pop -- have recorded albums but the pop singers don't, or not that I know of.

In short, the pop singers are good-looking cardboard cutouts with a voice. It would be easy to point fingers at this and announce that Cambodians only know how to copy and therefore they wouldn't have any ideas should they have creative liberty over their music and careers, and probably just prefer to look pretty and get money.

Gee, that doesn't sound like anyone I might know of in America...

I'm getting off track. It would be easy to say that, but probably as wrong as announcing that all Americans eat hamburgers on a daily basis. From my experience here, and from the few conversations I've had so far, it's not necessarily a question of not wanting, but not knowing where to start. Not even knowing what tools you need to begin.

One of my friends has a band, and they write music. But where to record? How to record? She has no idea. The pop singer I thought was talented apparently used to be a construction worker. It probably never occured to him to sing, let alone make an album.

I have one Cambodian friend who is incredibly intelligent and an inquistive mind. She asks questions about everything, knows her own culture and it flaws, and has ideas about it. I was talking to her about this, which is when of course I thought, what you really need is an independent record label, with a studio and a crew of musicians. Then you need to find a singer who's willing and interested in taking a risk, get a songwriter on board and lock everyone up for several months and create a kick-ass, unique, original album, and then get it on the market in any way possible.

If the album is good, the independent ARTIST industry will explode. I capitalized artist because that's what's needed. Not singers, artists. I asked my friend about a million times, and each time she said yes -- that singer is out there. Probably more than one. Much like my students at CLA who had no idea where to begin in making a dance, but with a few tools in their back pocket, created some of the most innovative and interesting dance I've ever seen, there's a singer out there who wants to take control of their career, who doesn't just want to sing the songs they're given.

I think I have enough to do, but I want to find someone to make this happen. It's not just the traditional arts scene that needs to be nurtured and given artistic liberty, but also the modern and pop scene.

And I'd like to meet that singer who wants it enough to make it happen. Sure, some do just want to look pretty and get paid (hey, I wouldn't mind that either!!!). But I'd be happy to take the bet that many want more, but couldn't even imagine where to start, and so follow the system.

Any takers???

NOTE: I want to add something here -- I want to make it clear that I don't believe the singer in question also needs to be a songwriter. I'm just envisioning a place where they just start, however small or big, to take ownership of their music and their work as an artist.

Further thoughts on the expat condition

Since my last post I've been thinking and observing, and wanted to take the time to expand my thoughts a little bit. The previous post was a very visceral emotional reaction, one that quite surprised me with its force, and since then I've been trying to attach words and concepts to decode what was actually going on. From that, I've been trying to figure out why -- why, that is, most expats think/behave as they do, and why my vision is so completely different.

I want to add a disclaimer here -- the following is quite scathing and I have to note that not every expat follows this. I know some who are different, and some who, if they don't agree, at least more or less get where I am coming from. Maybe this is not what people are actually thinking, but it's what I see.

So last time we had the grand issue being most expats only view Cambodians as lazy, stupid, annoying, and generally making life difficult. Something I've noticed is that the vast, vast majority of their interactions with Khmer people involve the Khmer in an inferior position, most often offering a service the expat requires or requests.

In that regard, the expat is constantly in a world where they are asking for something, and if it is not given promptly, accurately, and straight-forward, then it is annoying and frustrating and blamed on the person responsible for doing the serving, the Khmer. Even in volunteering, teaching, or what have you, they are in the higher position, responsible for teaching the inferior how to do something they don't know how to do yet. If they do not understand, accept, and promptly assimilate the training, then it is annoying and frustrating and blamed on the person responsible for learning, the Khmer.

As an example. Someone I know has a few Khmer staff. The guy is nice, but he micro-manages to a fault. He wants things now, responses upon receiving things, and things returned in very certain manners. Everything must be double-checked, edited several times, etc. Of course, that's just the way he works, and I'm not faulting him. In his own country, they do things like that.

I've talked to the staff. If you tell me to do something, I'll do it, one of them said. I won't necessarily do it right away just because you asked, or tell you I've done it, but I will do it. You don't have to keep telling me.

But the expat doesn't understand. Isn't it obvious that their way of doing things is more efficient, more professional, and generally better for everyone? Actually, no, it's not obvious. It's one more detail added to a pile of stupid details that really don't seem to add anything if you don't know, if you haven't had the years of training, years of discipline in a culture that prides itself on efficiency and detail. No, it's not obvious at all, and even once it's been explained, it takes months, or years, for the effects to truly be seen and understood.

But the expat doesn't spend years. They come for a few months and then leave, having seen no real progress and made their judgments.

There's another barrier I've noticed : the language. The vast, vast majority of expats do not speak it, barely a word besides "turn right/left" and "hello." If they get to hello. So they sweep into places where they expect to be served, not bother to learn a word of the language, and then have the gall to complain about being misunderstood, as though they are entitled to always have someone with perfect English and understanding of their culture to respond immediately and understand everything.

Usually, just saying "How are you?" or just a word or two more is enough for Khmers to say to me, with surprise and delight, "Oh, you speak Khmer a lot!" That dismays me. How are you is the easiest thing in the world to learn. "Sock sah bai." When I take the time to greet the staff at the places I go and ask that before I get around to saying anything about what I actually want, everything changes. We relate differently. We are equals now. They are not as flustered or uncertain, jumping to do something, anything, quickly because that's what the expat wants to see, even if they don't really understand. Therefore, in the end I am rarely misunderstood.

But once the expat makes their judgment, it is made, and everything they see reinforces it. Inside is a bubble, where everything should work just like it does back home and on the edge are these really annoying, hovering creatures that mess things up. And to them it will always be like that, no matter how hard one tries to enlighten the poor Khmers.

We've talked about this before. Yes, the country is messed up. Yes, it's corrupt, and poor, and badly run, and the government is...well. Yes, that is all true, yes there is a lack of education and professionalism and training.

But come on. I want to say to the expat in our examples above, open your mind a little. Try to think, for a second, that this is Cambodia. You are in their country. You are not entitled to be here, and have no divine right to make things all better because come on, clearly the west just knows how to do it better. Your way is not necessarily the only way, or the best way. It might be a good idea to open your mind and heart to this country as it is, to the people as they are, as people. Learn a bit of the language. Have patience. Try to see Cambodians beyond the maid, the waitress, the hostess, the guy behind the counter, and as people, like you, doing their best.

It's completely changed my experience of the country, and for the better.

And if you can't, then maybe it's best if you go back to the place where people speak your language and think just like you, and stop the arrogant "but they need our help" trip. I'm being quite serious when I say I think that would be better for everyone.

Hey, those are my friends you're talking about

I get this question a lot from expats : What do you think of Cambodia?

Usually it’s said with a little smirk, a smile or a sort of knowing look in the eye, because they know what you’re going to say. It’s what everyone says, among expats. It’s the only story you hear, just with different variations, but for the most part it never changes.

They like the weather and they like how easy it is to make money and live. But the people?

All I ever hear is how Cambodian people make life difficult. How they have no ambition, only play around on their cell phones and never work, never learn, resist passive-aggressively, and generally speaking the country would be better off if Cambodian people were not as they are.

There are exceptions, but they are exceptions, few and far between. I can count them on a few fingers, the people who have positive stories and outlooks, who are not convinced that the people of this country are either lazy, stupid, or just generally annoying and frustrating.

Most people, when pressed further, will admit that they don’t really think Cambodians are stupid, just uneducated, and they know there is a difference. But either way, there’s nothing to be done. There’s nothing there.

Let’s be clear: Pol Pot and the Khmer Rouge regime took a culturally and industrially advanced country and razed it to the ground. They killed the culture, the education, and yet still even now the tribunal has not yet officially established that what happened was “genocide.”

Let’s also be clear: the formal western professionalism and training and discipline does not exist, if it ever did, it is gone, vanished, lost. The education system is pitifully funded and the teachers have not been formally trained. I’ve asked a couple people what they are studying, because everyone is in university and studying something (that’s 60 percent of the country population under twenty-five). Banking and finance for one, and I wonder – to work where?

Where can he work with that? In a bank in Cambodia with the other thousands studying the same thing? What if he wanted to get out? You go anywhere else with a degree from Cambodia right now and they laugh you off. Another guy is studying tourism, with a few million others. That might get him a little further, but not much.

Someone described it to me as realizing this country is deeply intellectually and emotionally hurt, and that is true. Most Cambodian people I’ve met are emotionally much more immature than their western counterparts. But where have they learned? Their parents are scarred, and there’s a void of emotional coaching. Emotions aren’t discussed, treated, talked about—it’s Asia, for one, and why would you? There’s too much hurt there.

It is also true that there is a general lack of energy and ambition, and certainly a general lack of the cut-and-dried western professionalism I and my expat counterparts grew up with, were drilled with since childhood. Smartphones just got here, and everyone is always on them. There is no real professionalism training. The teachers are late. There aren’t role models for that.  

What I mean to say is, the genocide is over now. But the country, and it’s people, even those who never experienced it, are scarred by it. That is the truth, and there is truth to the expat stories.

But there are times when it is all I ever here, and I just get tired.

Because I’ve met young people who think differently. I’ve met Cambodians who are passionate. I’ve seen sparks, I’ve watched people push themselves, and be proud. I’ve talked with people who don’t like what they see.

Yes, of course, they do stuff that bothers me, like answer their cell phones at inopportune times or come late to important things.

But I see potential. Someone told me right now there is nothing, maybe the kids who are in high school right now. Yes, but I would also add those in university. The kids my age.

They aren’t going to change the country in two weeks, or two months, or two years. Does any country change so fast? Time takes time. They don’t know how yet, they don’t have the tools, and maybe they won’t ever. But at least a few of them will make sure their children do, however that happens.

The older generation cannot physically overpower them forever, because they are dying. There are so many young people, and there is potential. They don’t know it yet. They haven’t grown up, hit walls, fallen down. They haven’t had the hard teachers, the tough training. The survivors of the genocide are farmers. They have no education to pass on, and the young people now have to figure it out themselves – all while being bombarded with modernity that no one has ever taught them to use or abuse. They are faced with an enormous, fast-paced world, with very few tools to deal with it.

And yet.

Beyond all the potential or no potential, the future and the past, there are these few simple facts:  I work with Cambodians on a daily basis. They make me laugh, make me smile. They’ve comforted me when I’m upset, I’ve comforted them. They make me angry sometimes, yes, and frustrated. But we’ve talked, laughed, shared jokes. Sometimes we just shake our heads and say, yeah, it just doesn’t translate.

Essentially, I’ve found them to just be people, trying like the other five billion people in the world to be happy, and these are the stories I never hear from the expats. It’s always about how life is being made difficult, or how the country is messed up, but not about people being people, people you can talk to, people who worry about their health (like anyone else), who don’t know if they can really do what they want (like anyone else), who get upset with each other (like anyone else) and wish things were different (like anyone else).

Those are the stories I live with every day. Not good,  not bad, just life, like anywhere else, with anyone else. Yes, in a completely and totally alien culture, but people like me. And when all I hear, day after day, time after time, is how frustrating, annoyed, uneducated, difficult, and generally upsetting Cambodian people are, it really gets to me.

When it comes down to it, the fact of the matter is that those are my friends they’re talking shit about. My friends they are putting down and dissing. Yes. Sometimes I do want to throw things at them. And so? Do we understand each other perfectly? Absolutely not. And so?

At the end of the day, those are my friends, and hearing them constantly put down hurts, as it does tonight, and the reason I took the time to write down these words and send them out to the world. The expats can have their reality, but I'm not part of it. 

I'd like to keep it that way. 

The Phnom Penh Traffic Drinking game

I wanted to find a fun way to explain to you just how stupid the drivers here can be. I've said before there are no traffic rules, at least, none really observed, and driving a moto makes me realize that seriously it's very surprising how there are NOT about a thosand accidents per second.

So here is my Phnom Penh traffic drinking game. To be played only in the back of a tuktuk, safely far away from the wheel or handlebars of any moving vehicle. Since Angkor draft is the way to go here, we're going to go with that -- take a drink or empty the glass.

Take a drink every time:

--A moto cuts across oncoming traffic on the red light to turn left

--Anyone suddenly cuts in front of you to turn right, with no blinker.

--A pedestrian starts walking across the street at the very second that the light turns green.

--Anyone is on their cellphone while driving.

Take two drinks every time:

--Any two vehicles make physical contact at a stoplight, handlebars or wheels or what have you.

--A car turns left from the right turn lane or right from the left turn lane.

--A moto drives on the wrong side of the road after turning left before cutting across all lanes of oncoming traffic.

--A car swerves to the wrong side of the road, with oncoming traffic, to pass a slower moving vehicle.

--You see something truly ridiculous on the back of a moto, such as a dead pig, a few dozen live chickens, four people plus a baby, twenty cartons of ramen noodles, etc.

Empty the glass when:

--Some hotshot jackass goes through traffic like a slalom course.

--You get stuck for ten minutes at an intersection because everyone is trying to get through at the same time and only later realized that the tuk tuk and the car at the middle can't squeeze past each other.

--You see something exceptionally stupid not mentioned here, such as a guy on a moto approaching a busy traffic circle and using both hands to tuck his cellphone back into his pocket.

And the bonus, if you happen to be on 278 and see the young, handsome Khmer guy dressed to the nines in a suit and tie, riding on a piece of crap motorbike with flowers on the handles and a boom box on the back and selling noodles (while singing), take a shot. Gotta love showmen...

Bless you if you're still standing.