Cambodia Stories

My name is Stanley Rochet. I am fifty-nine years old. I live on the Quay. The address is 2198 Sisowath Quay, Phnom Penh, Cambodia. That is the address my sister uses when she sends me money. That's the money we got when our father died. Sometimes she sends the money to the Paragon Hotel. That's how most people know 2198 Sisowath Quay.

In the pitch-black Cambodian night, our tuktuk approaches a lit-up, airport-like structure. "Are the temples now like that", I ask Norah?

"And you know, Aunt Nahd, please give us just two years. We just need that time, Aunt Nahd, and then he will come back to you!" - Nahd presses End Call on her pre-war Nokia. This young lady on the line has stolen her husband, and now she says don't worry, he will come back later!

Just a short panopticum of delightful encounters with the inhabitants of Cambodia’s capital, the Paris of the East.

On their immaculate metallic blue Honda Wave 110 ccm, Srei (Mrs) Tooj and her husband do arrive not one minute late for my dinner invitation. "Tiger muy", orders her husband: one Tiger beer. But he forgot he is with his wife: "No need to drink beer, dear", she goes with a calm face and corrects his order: "Coca muy for my husband, and Coca muy tee-et for me."

I hate airport goodbyes. Especially in Saigon and Phnom Penh. Those foggy window screens with you on one side and her on the other. - I overstayed exactly one day. It's common knowledge that for each day of overstaying, you quietly pay five USD to the passport guy. A dark bearded face muses over the visa page. "Overstay two days", he murmurs.

Around 2 a.m., I walk up the stairs to our apartment. The door opens just when I want to press the bell push. A tired, but smiling Norah lets me in.

Norah wakes me up. "Did you hear the shooting, Hans? Ten times! Not far!" - She opens the balcony door and walks out. The alarm of an ambulance can be heard. She says: "It's near the restaurant up the road. I see the ambulance light." - I stand inside the room: "Do you think, after a shooting it's a good idea to turn on light and stand on the balcony?"

One night we'd like to enjoy a pot of hot tea on our small balcony. I pour the freshly brewed liquid - and slop a liter of boiling tea over my uncovered arm! My left arm quickly achieves the color of steamed lobster. It's 10.30 pm, but Norah hops on our Honda and rushes out to buy meds. I try to stop her in vain.

Door opened - door closed - door locked - clack-clack-clack - silence. "Hey Norah, how was your trip to town?" I turn around. But look at that: Her face is absolutely empty, broken. She sits on the carpet, a place I know she considers low. "NORAH!!!!! Are you ok? Where have you been?" She starts to speak with a robotical, monotonous voice: "I think tomorrow I go back to Phnom Penh. I think better we say goodbye forever."

We hang out on our platform with great views. We slurp soda lemon, and Norah has sliced a first sweet mango for us. Fish, chicken and several side dishes will appear soon. This is a great relaxing place, I think while lazing on the wooden boards: You are close to nature, listen to the sounds of the fields, and a delightful cooling breeze plays around you. Then the karaoke machine from a neighboring restaurant sets in with 250 dB (A).

What we are now going to eat - or *do* - is called soup chnang dei, which translates to "earthen pot soup". "What would you like, darling", asks my caring Norah and reels off about ten items. I understand nothing and suggest she just orders anything that's fun. We would share all-around anyway. - "Any rat or dog in there", I ask Norah secretly? - "You crazy!!"

There we stand on the road: Norah and Hans, suddenly alone together for the first time. She smiles at me in anticipation. I smile at her in anticipation. Now we are on our own and free to go back to the lodge.

The officer behind the high counter inquires: "She your girlfriend?" - "Yes." - "Oh", he smiles dreamily, "she beautiful, you very lucky". - "Awkhun cheran", I make politely as I finally receive the stamp. I sprint into Norah's arms.

How I made it over the questionable roads in Cambodia to my destination in Bangkok. Yes, it can be done.