Enduring Monsters
[Phnom Penh, 11/14/22]
Leaving my hotel just after 5AM, I had the option of strolling towards the Mekong, just a mile away. At that hour, there was very little traffic, so crossing streets wasn’t so vexing. Most days, though, I’m sucked right into the dark alleys, with its roosters, sleepers, coal fires and eatery owners preparing breakfast. Seeing a large pot of boiling water can make you think everything is still fine. Something delicious will be made.
Although there are Westerners in this neighborhood, almost none ever stray into these alleys, even in daylight. With its motorbikes, playing children, shabby shops, good and bad smells, and so many bodies just inches away from you, these spaces engulf everything, so are essentially medieval. Bobbing in this stew, you’re finally home, pilgrim! The more modern or affluent a man, though, the more privacy he needs, so he hates to be touched by anyone but himself, which he does compulsively.
If such mingling is so great, India must be paradise, but, I must admit, its insane urban density, incessant honking and miserable cows shitting, pissing and eating garbage got to me, so that, after just one month, I found myself collapsed outside an airport, with my seemingly dying wish a return to Southeast Asia’s more manageable chaos. Writing this, I’m again at that café with the smiling, slightly chubby barista.
