Well, it clearly wasn’t meant to be yet I still forced the
issue. I decided I wanted some kind of ice-blended concoction, some kind of
chilled deliciousness in an air-conditioned environment. It was already 4pm and
not really time for a coffee, but I wanted an excuse to leave my apartment. Get
out and pretend like I did something today.
Partake in something heavenly without actually dying to get there.
Partake in something orgasmic without having to take a shower afterwards.
So I went to Gloria Jeans. The picture in the latest issue
of Out & About in Phnom Penh caught my eye. Advertising does work. But it was too crowded and only a tiny table with a
hard wooden chair remained. Fuck that. So, I went to Café Fresco, nearly around
the corner, but I was neither thrilled with the atmosphere nor the price. I got
back on my motorbike.
Next, I went to The Blue Pumpkin. I hadn’t been to this
location, however I knew they served up ample portions for a reasonable price.
However, it was too crowded and again, only hard wooden seats remained. Fuck
that. I walked out secretly thinking someone was watching this ridiculous affair. Next I went to Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf. The prices offended me. $3.80
for a regular frappe? I couldn’t open my wallet for that and so I left again near tears.
After driving around a bit more, something clanking in the
underbelly of my aging motorbike, I opted for Tous Les Jours on Sihanouk Boulevard.
And of course, they didn’t even have ice-blended drinks on the menu. Embarrassed to
walk out again, I just settled for an
iced choco, something I had no interest in consuming and then I found out the wifi
wasn’t even working. A big LOL all around.
Sometimes I know when I shouldn’t be doing something yet I
keep on keeping on. I should have known when I ran out of gas a block from the
first coffee shop. That was the first sign that this little outing should never
have been undertaken. Truth be told, if I wasn’t like Goldilocks and just
settled for the hard wooden chair, this story would have had a far different
ending. Oh well.
It is almost time to get back to my new apartment and go for
a run. I love the location, right between the Royal Palace and the Independence
Monument. Close to two parks and the riverside, very convenient for a quick run
in the early morning or early evening. My new place is also reasonably close to
my gym and the language center where I find myself working in the evenings
during the week. Teaching – joy to the world. I will find something else, I
keep telling myself.
There are “international” schools everywhere in Phnom Penh.
The salary is significantly less than in Vietnam, however this city seems far
more livable in a way I don’t know if I can explain. It’s less crowded, but
there is plenty to do. There is far less noise and far fewer people staring and
therefore, causing less agitation. In Vietnam, it seemed that most expats were
teachers. Here, it seems there are people doing a bit of everything.
There are a lot of cars on the road here. On my ride home
from the gym the other day, I saw minivans from school after school after
school. American Intercon, Modern
International School, Beltei University, Home of English, it's like a
prerequisite to having a school. You had to have a minivan to shuttle
your students from location to location. I had an interview with one of the
aforementioned schools and a subsequent demo lesson, but I bailed on the lesson
the day it was scheduled. I just couldn’t bare the thought of teaching
full-time and it caused too much anxiety over a short period of time.
The Vegetarian is
around the corner from my house. I’ve had the displeasure of eating there on
two occasions. I regrettably gave it a second chance and was disappointed
again. The two worst meals I’ve eaten since arriving in Phnom Penh. Shame on
them. Sadly, that has previously been the case in other restaurants only
offering up vegetarian fare. You think they’d be so good at it since it’s their
specialty, but I’ve experienced otherwise. Not to mention the uppity attitude.
I took a swing dancing class the other night. I don’t think
I’ve ever taken a dancing class
before of any kind. I’d probably prefer a hip hop class just to learn some cool
moves, but I’d probably hurt myself. I was just one of two men and there were
about four times as many women putting me on the spot on numerous occasions,
showing over and over that I wasn’t getting it. It took a minute to get over
the initial anxiety. I’m glad I’m doing stuff like this, but it’s hard to
commit to doing anything regularly. I don’t think swing dancing is going to be
one of my hobbies.
Five teenage girls bordering on legality have just taken
over a table in this café. They are celebrating a birthday and each playing
with their respective iPhone or iPad, taking pictures of themselves making the
silly faces their age group is so well known for. It’s strange how taking
self-portraits is so common here even when you have a friend who could take a
better picture and make the situation look less awkward. Maybe I’m the only one
self-conscious about it.
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