Crashing weddings and cycles

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

The routine of life is settling in to a somewhat boring and predictable pattern except for the odd incident or two. As I shared in my last epistle, I have switched back to a bicycle instead of the moto. I am much happier except that I still miss the ease of firing up the old blue beast and pretty much going where I want to go. I can do that as well on my kong (bicycle) but it is more work and now that the hot season is starting, a less desirable task. However, it is still more secure and even relaxing as I gently and calmly pedal down the avenue with only an occasional surprise from someone who suddenly appears next to me. As long as I avoid any sudden moves to the left or right I can function rather well.

I mentioned the hot season but I am not really sure it has started. The more seasoned veterans here tell me that it is getting hotter but that it is not really insufferable yet. I am expecting something from out of hell then, because on certain days the sun really kicks into overdrive and the sweat (nature’s air conditioning) comes pouring out. I keep saying that I don’t mind the heat, but usually that is when I am in some air con bar with a cool gin and tonic in front of me. I have to remember to drink lots of water without the added benefit of booze, which dehydrates the body at an accelerated rate. Again the more seasoned veterans here tell me that a proper ratio of drinking is one glass of water for every glass of beer or drink. Whew! That is one hell of a lot of liquid.

I am thinking of moving my home. I still like the place but there are complications that I don’t want to put up with any longer. I think I am a patient man but when I left for language training in January, a scheduled repair of the water system in my building was to start. When I returned at the beginning of February it was in theory finished. I did not ever have a real problem with the water except that the faucet leaked rather continuously, but I could live with that since it only flowed into the bathtub. Since I only pay a flat rate of $5 a month for water it was not my problem, right? After the repairs my faucet is working fine. But, now there are leaks coming from under the wall near my desk and it generally soaks two or three big towels two or three times a day. I have told them about the problem and I keep hearing that it is hard to find someone and that it will be taken care of.

Another problem of course, was the stolen moto. That happened the night before I left for language training in January. Then it was rumored that the moto had been found. I say rumor since I have never seen the moto but only heard that it has been found. My colleagues in the office have told me that I should not really expect nor want to get it back since it is no doubt only a “skin” now after the police have stripped it or replaced the new parts with old ones, like the engine. Again, no problem, since I was holding on to my three months rent payment until the repairs were finished, I figured it might just serve as a compensation for the lost moto. So far no one has said anything but the repairs still aren’t done and I still have the rent money. If it turns out that it is compensation, then I have done all right since my moto did not cost as much as the three months rent.

The next, or more significantly, the last problem to rear its ugly head was the appearance of a rat in my bedroom. He certainly has exhibited more fear of me than I of him, but I can only guess at this since he can run and disappear much faster than I can shout or move. After a few appearances I became somewhat accustomed to his presence and since he tried to avoid me I didn’t see much of him. However, the other night, I caught sight of another little rodent who no doubt is related to the other fellow. Now I am an easygoing guy and one rat is ok, but with the offspring or relatives moving in, I am annoyed. So, another reason to start looking for another place.

The option of moving entails some added costs. The rent will be more and the size of the place will be smaller. But overall, the general climate will be much better, the ambience superior, and the attractiveness grater. I am sure there is some redundancy in there somewhere, but I hope you are getting my meaning.

I am taking greater note of the limitations of my age and response issues. After all, getting older was just slowing down, wasn’t it? I guess not. I have taken two or three falls on my bike and really have not thought much about them until today when I was trying to talk on my hand held phone and drive or rather stop my bike at the same time. I didn’t, which resulted in my crashing again. I am starting to wonder about hips and the other ailments of the elderly and while this may sound like a cry of “Alas, poor me”, it really isn’t. I am just beginning to understand that the system is not just slowing down, it is actually taking on new dimensions and given the proper respect and understanding should not really stand in the way of getting on with life. If the life is not going to be a cabaret, old chum, then it needs to be at least a little ceile, a party to you non-Irish types.

I hope you are holding in there with me on this theme because there is a connection. After the fall, an hour or two later, I felt for my wallet and it wasn’t there. Panic-stricken I figured it had fallen out when I dumped and the kindly folks, who rushed to my aid, had scooped it up. I went back and of course, they hadn’t seen it. Still in the midst of my panic attack but observing all the cultural niceties of never losing your cool publicly, I knew I had to cancel my ATM card and let the bank know I lost my card. I couldn’t say for sure it stolen yet. I went back to work on the small chance that it might be on my desk. No such luck. My partner in the office asked how I was and I told him “not so good, I lost my wallet.” I really didn’t want to get into a conversation so I told him that I might just go back home and check on it there. Of course it was there. I must have been looking through it the night before and just forgot to put it in my pants. So, happy as a pig in manure, I went back to the bank and cancelled the cancellation, and had a great lunch. For those of you who are reading these chronicles and sensing a steady decline into dementia or other advanced stages of the aging process, please remember that I said that I would share all of the warts as well as the good stuff. This happens to be one of the warts. If it begins to happen with any more regularity I will seriously consider hiring a male nurse to monitor my behavior and of course, returning home.

Added footnote: Yesterday I went to another wedding, perhaps my fourth or fifth. I am developing attitudes about these wedding receptions; I rarely go to the ceremonies since they are interminably long, rather dry affairs. The receptions are also lengthy, two or three hours, and loud if you have the misfortune to be placed near the bandstand where the band and the singer(s) try to outdo each other. The menu is a set one; appetizers of various sorts, followed by three kinds of meat (pork, beef and chicken) grilled and in small chunks, a bowl or cooking vegetables a la fondue style, then a long, usually very tasty fish, complete with head and tail and bones, followed at the end with fried rice in a plentiful fashion for anyone who did not get enough to eat. All during the meal there are cans of soft drinks, tonic water and mineral water, and beer. As you go through the supply on the table more is brought readily. Aso included on every table, at every wedding I have been to, is a bottle of Johnny Walker Red whiskey. The more adventuresome hard guys go for this and usually there is a contest with one or more of the guys going, “M’Roy p’roy – 100%). Then everyone knocks his or her entire drink back. Women included. Sorry for the sexist remark, ladies, but if you could see these elegant, well-coiffed, demure, women, pounding down a tall glass of Johnny Walker, then you might exclaim as well, “the Ladies as well?”

So, the point of this story is not so much the cultural experience although I know you were gasping to hear all about it, (it was curiosity, wasn’t it?). The real story was my friend and I had gotten a tuk tuk and went to the reception at 5:30 when it was scheduled to start. We figured to be fashionably on time or late as you might perceive, but since the food does not start coming until you reach the magic number of ten or a full table, what difference could it make. We arrived and were immediately greeted by a gauntlet of very beautifully dressed and professionally made-up ladies who definitely knew us even if we didn’t know them. They gave us each a small gift, typical for a wedding reception. It might be a pack of gum or in this case a synthetic multi purpose scarf called a Krama. Upstairs we were escorted to a table, which soon filled up with both Khmer and Barang (white foreigners). The dinner was fun, good conversation and hearty appetites. I stayed with beer and my companions did not attack the bottle of JWR (Johnny Walker Red) with any serious enthusiasm. I think someone intended to take the remains home. At the end of the meal my friend and I were both wondering why we had not seen any more of the other volunteers or even the bride and groom. The video guy had already been around and taken pictures of our table. So, I suggested that we take a continental walk around the room to see and be seen by all. After all, we were the trophy guests, foreigners from banks or NGOs. We made our way to the bandstand and the wedding party was having a little walk around and the guests were throwing ribbons and flowers on them. Neither my friend or I could see Heng who had invited us to the wedding and it suddenly dawned on me that we were at the wrong freaking wedding. We immediately cleared out and since we hadn’t turned our envelopes in, we could still go to the other reception, have some more to drink and share our confusing story of the wrong wedding reception. After all, this is Cambodia.

That said, I love you all, and as the temperature climbs, remember me as having said I like the heat. Words to live or suffer by. I remain, Paco the dripper and wedding crasher.