Lucky Moto, Lucky Choir

Dear Friends, Family and other notable companions on this journey through Life.

I have discovered that I am capable of making strange and “little’ sounds as I travel through the ways of Phnom Penh. Some of this I was conscious of before as I suddenly became aware of a motorist or cyclist inches away from my rear as I traveled down the street. I have spent months adjusting to this phenomenon and I think I was uttering less or more understandable expressions now than the standard range of “uh-oh”, “eh” or “ehhhhhh” depending on the degree of being startled. But now, I have bought a moto.

Yes, comrades all, instead of being safe and dependable on my kong (bicycle) I have invested in a brand new, Honda Spider 110 cc moto that will get me through the streets of Phnom Penh in lightening speed. This often translates to between 25 and 45 KPH (or 15 and 25 MPH, for the citizens who have refused to accept the world standard of metric). My speedometer goes much, much higher but I frankly don’t anticipate ever testing the limits of this vehicle since I am also discovering what a true coward I am. The moto cost me $770, which seems to be a decent price from all of the Khmei I have shared the cost with and even before I bought the bike, I had checked several places. Anticipating the several suggestions to:
1. Have my head examined.
2. Be very, very careful.
3. Try walking the bike instead of driving it.
4. Hire a driver and be a passenger
5. Go ahead and drive fast, and maybe this will end all of this foolishness.

I will take them all under consideration and promise to be very, very careful.

I have also been good to myself in the clothes division. After being embarrassed to be the only delegate to the SEAMEO conference in Ho Chi Minh City last month not to be wearing a suit, I have had two made. They are of wool-cashmere and are tailored to fit my svelte body. I still think the pants are too long but the saleslady assures me that they are perfect. This was while she was grasping the back of the suit coat I had on with a firm grip. The two are nice and I have had two opportunities to wear them in the last two weeks.

The first was at the British ambassador’s residence for “Christmas caroling”. This is referred to in the British community as a “knees-up” shindig after a quaint old music hall ballad singing about “Knees-up, Mrs. Brown!”, a lively tune guaranteed to get everyone’s spirits soaring. So, I donned my new dark grey with blue pinstripes and new tailored shirt (white) and a classy tie (came free with the suit) and sally forthed (I know it is not a word, but it sounds British).

It was a great evening. Lots of carol singing and enough restricted singing only by the choir they had there for the occasion to guarantee some quality. The director of the choir sang one of my all-time favorites, “Jerusalem” which I had tried to get for Mary Kay’s funeral. I have heard John McCormack’s version and it is probably the definitive version. I complimented the Ambassador on his choir and choice of music and he replied that his wife was totally in charge of cultural activities. I then asked Elaine, (Yes, we are on a first name basis, maybe not by choice on their part) whether I could expect to hear “Finnegan’s Wake” at next year’s party. Her reply was somewhat cryptic inasmuch as she said, “Well, Richard, if you are still here we will certainly consider it.” Not exactly the ringing acceptance of my suggestion I had hoped for, and curiously including the possibility of my not being here. Ah well, I am sure there is no hidden message there.

But, I have to say that MI5 or Mi6 or whoever is in charge of vetting the guest lists screwed up here. Allowing me in to sing my heart out on some of the more lively carols, evidently brought me to the attention of Evelyn and Stan the ambassador. They invited me and Sarah Woodridge to join the choir. I assure you; no one was more amazed than I was. I explained that first, I couldn’t read music, second I was a yank an I wasn’t sure my passport allowed such genteel activities, and three, for those who know me, I can’t sing worth a crap and I would destroy any credibility they have ever earned. All that aside, I will probably at least go to a practice or two before they start rehearsing at different venues and not telling me.

The opportunity to wear my second suit, a nice beige job with a tailored blue shirt ($12 like the other one) and a great matching tie (also free with the suit) was to give a presentation to the Vietnamese and Chinese study tours here in Cambodia. They are visiting courtesy of VSO and I was asked to give a one-hour presentation on my role in the ministry and how I personally am helping Cambodia become the world leader that the ancient kings of Kampuchea had envisioned before France, the Americans, Pol Pot and the Vietnamese interrupted their path to glory. I am sad to say that I did not accomplish that goal since one hour includes short bursts of sentences, then translations, and a fair portion of time for Q & A. I might have gotten 15 to 20 minutes of actual presenting time in. The questions were good, astute, and knowledgeable. I thanked them and returned the eyeglasses to the hostess of the weeklong tour.

Why did I return her glasses? Because that morning I lost my other glasses. I had laid them down on the seat of my brand new moto (have I told you about that?) and while donning my helmet, which I never go without now, I forgot about the freaking glasses. At least I think that was the sequence. This is the second pair of glasses I have lost or misplaced or whatever and they are right up there with computers as my nemesis. I brought two pairs of prescription sunglasses with me to Cambodia and still have both pair. I think that God wants me to be a cool dude.

When I went in to Lucky Optics to order up a new pair, they greeted me cheerfully. After all I am becoming one of their best customers. When I told them I wanted two pair in case this happens again, they agreed that this was probably a good idea. I am sure they have confidence in me not losing them again, but they are ever polite and agreeable. However, when I asked when they would be ready, it turns out that in Singapore where the bifocals are made, they celebrate Christmas and it would take one month. I replied that was all well and good for world peace and the baby Jesus, but I needed my glasses now. After all, it is all about me, right? “Sorry,” says they, smiling all the while. But I could have a pair of reading glasses today. “There you go”, says I. Reading glasses, today, bifocals one month from now. Who says that we are not making our way toward the long held vision of the Ancient Kings of Kampuchea?

Just a quick word about Lucky ______ (fill in the blank). I do a lot of my shopping at Lucky market next door, and I have my prescriptions filled at the Lucky pharmacy down the street from the market. I am not sure but there might be plans for a Lucky pub and a Lucky brothel in the offing. I am not sure who this guy “Lucky” is but he is sure an active entrepreneur and he gets a lot of my business.

Well, that is it for now and I will save my proofreading for later when I have my prescription reading glasses that will have a string attached to them courtesy of the young lady who told me her grandfather is always losing his glasses also. I will practice some more on my moto and save my new suits for another awesome event, hopefully before next year’s Christmas bash at the Ambassador’s residence.

Your wandering musical pilgrim, Richard (Also, Paco,since I am wearing my helmet all of the time now).