While in Sihanoukville, I sprouted some interesting blisters on the healing scar on my knee. I started to panic when they were getting worse, not better, so booked a bus ride back to Phnom Penh… MISSING, by the way, the only Halloween party I had seen advertised set for the next day on the 31st, which was perhaps a larger tragedy that the re-emergence of my injury. So, Margie, sorry to report, I spent Halloween watching (not scary) movies in my room. Very sad. Oh, fun sighting on the way back… I got to drive by all those “Made in Cambodia” sweatshop factories, and see all the women streaming out into the slummy neighborhoods surrounding the factories. Yay sweatshops.

Went to the hospital in Phnom Penh, they cleaned me up, put me on antibiotics, and gave me instructions to clean it. They said not to travel for a few days, so I delayed my trip to Vietnam and nestled into city life for a 5 day stay. Check out the new pictures on Phnom Penh in the picture section.

3 interesting things during my stay:

1. Royal Sighting: As I was eating my morning breakfast in one of the cafes by the riverside, a bunch of police and military vehicles went sirening past. This had been happening all morning, and I couldn’t stop paranoid visions of Khmer Rouge seizing the capitol back in ‘75. I had thought that I’d get a paper and just see if anything was going on, when all of a sudden the streets cleared. Three vehicles came swooping by, followed by a big SUV with a man smiling and waving to everyone on the sidewalk. I turned to the elated waiter and asked who that was. “The KING! It was the KING!”

2. Water Festival: The week I was there, everyone was preparing for the water festival, a 3 day weekend full of fairs, markets, light displays on the water, and boat racing. 1.5 million from around SE Asia flock to the city, particularly for the boat races. The boats were extremely long, with what looked like 75-100 people on board. They would stand up, one on each side of the skinny boat, and paddle like hell through the water at rip roaring speed. The light displays were enormous, floating, temple-shaped billboards that were 4 or 5 stories high, filled with brilliantly colored lights. Only got this on video, so no pictures for now.

3. A Word on Prostitution: Prostitution is pervasive in Cambodia, as it has been in the other countries I’ve visited so far in SE Asia, save for Laos. What sickens me everytime I see what appears to be a case of paid escorting is how utterly disgusting the men are. ALWAYS, they are older, balding, unattractive, over-weight, white men that would have extreme difficulty getting women if not for the small fee. Aside for feeling terrible for these poor women, I’m struck by what appears to be the men receding back into childhood. I don’t know if this is some little boy’s fantasy being played out, but I have witnessed some extremely bizarre behavior.

In Sihanoukville, an older fat man and his mistress had staked out a portion of beach, and she was endlessly grilling treats for him on a grill. Despite his age and the obvious strain of his weight, he was flitting about the grass, skipping around between gulps of beer. Last I saw him, he was flying a kite with boy-like glee in his little bikini bottoms.

In Phnom Penh, I saw a man kissing his mistress good bye while she jumped on a moto in her almost Elvira-esque, woman of the night, black lace outfit. He was puckering his lips and making goo-goo, ga-ga noises at her. SO strange.

And finally, on my last night in Phnom Penh, before some old Greek guy came and interrupted my dinner, plopping himself next to me, blabbering away and drinking a beer, I watched with interest as a man brought TWO escorts with him into the restaurant next door. He was in a foul mood due to, from what I could gather, what he thought to be a transgression from one of his ladies or life itself… I couldn’t quite tell. He would get up from the table, with them both pulling on his arms asking him to stay, and go pace the sidewalk or storm aloofly into the restaurant. When actually seated, he would alternate between angrily yelling his side of it to their sad faces, and crying, literally crying, as they wiped away his tears, fed him beer, and generally coddled him.

The whole scene is a rather gruesome site.

Other than that, I spent my time checking out bookstores and the sites, searching for pumpkin soup, and frequenting the FCC. One of the tuk-tuk drivers that would sit outside of my hotel (Indochine I, by the way, for anyone who’s headed here… right on the riverfront, not in Lonely Planet, $10 a night with hot shower, air conditioning and CABLE!) would monitor the progress of my knee every day by assessing the severity of my limp. On the second to last day, when I had no limp at all, he almost jumped out of his tuk-tuk and said, “OH!! Much better today, much, much better!” with 2 thumbs up. When I was leaving, he said he was sad to see me go, because he wanted me to come and stay with him and his family, but wished me luck and said to just take it “one day at a time”. I thought that was sound advice.