Election day thoughts and other random rambles

Sunday 12:00 noon in the nation's capital on election day in Cambodia. I'm enjoying the dregs of my americano and a pumpkin muffin at Brown cafe, whose motto should be our muffins are moist! The streets are much quieter than normal today and so is this cafe, which is usually teeming with people. I'm glad neither the streets nor this cafe are bustling. I like chill. I suppose the results will be known later this evening and it's doubtful the streets will be empty at that time. The CPP, the current ruling party, is expected to win, but the CNRP, the main opposition party, is expected to put up higher numbers than normal and perhaps force the CPP to adjust their policies. We shall see!

This is only the fifth national election since 1993 and the same guy has been in power since then. That seems unreal. Free and fair elections? If the CPP wins, it sounds like the CNRP will protest because of various methods of voter fraud. One CNRP member said "There are many irregularities. Opposition supporters have been deleted from the voters list, while at least a million names have been added. Extra ballots have been printed, vote buying is widespread, and people are facing intimidation and violence."

Another guy, an independent political analyst says that "If the CPP wins with a majority...there will be violence and there will be bloodshed." 

On the other hand, if the CNRP pulls off a miraculous upset the same political analyst says that would be the "worse thing that could happen." Why?

"The CPP" he said, "would try to cling to power by using police and military" who are both loyal to the CPP and "there will be chaos, the government will hold on to their power and Cambodia will be in the same situation as Burma in 1990 when the [National League for Democracy] won and the military party arrested almost all politicians."

Gee, sounds like either way, Cambodia is screwed. That is, if you listen to these guys. Unless of course, the middle scenario is achieved, which is the CPP winning the election, losing some seats, but maintaining a majority to form a government. In other words, if the CNRP has a reasonable showing, but does not win. That's how I understand it. Even the prime minister, Hun Sen, leader of the CPP, has said that if his party loses it would provoke a civil war and a war with Vietnam. Talk about trying to strike fear into the hearts of the people. Nobody here wants another war. I'm sure a lot of people would like a new prime minister, but at what cost?

Anyway, nothing to do now, but wait and see. I may hit the grocery store after the coffee shop just in case I have to bunker down for a few days.

In other news, I just watched a video of a small lake at the North Pole. We're fucked! I bet Santa is pissed. Not drunk, well maybe, but angry.

And on the same note, climate change, I was reading about Kiribati, a country in the middle of the Pacific that is supposed to be the first country lost due to rising sea levels. Crazy to think this will likely become a reality in our lifetime. I once read a book called The Sex Lives of Cannibals that was written about the author's trip to this place. Further reading on this nation's eventual fate can be found here.

And then there is a lot of news about this guy Weiner who's involved in some sex scandal. Who cares! It's only newsworthy cause the guy has this unfortunate name. There is so much other crap in the news that is best ignored. I find the headlines catchy and the articles are usually quite disappointing. I don't know why I click on the Huffington Post sometimes. It's only a couple times a week anyway.

What's more interesting to me is the story of Detroit. Not that I've read about it, but I understand there has been an economic collapse and they are bankrupt. A city in ruins. Seems wild to think about. Much like the country above that will one day be under water. One haunting quote I read said "If you want to see the future of America just look at Detroit." If anything, you'd think people would be interested to see this city in despair. I've never been there and I'm intrigued. I'd go on a double decker bus tour. Then there's that guy who has an idea to create a Zombie theme park. 

Ok, that's enough global news. It's almost time to do the online crossword. It's easier online because you can cheat. Doesn't make me feel like a winner, but there's something rewarding about it all the same. I know I'm wasting those fifteen minutes, but I have more than that to kill every day.

In other, more personal news, I had some moles removed this week. I found a new clinic that removed them by CO2 laser for about $5.75 per mole. In case you're wondering, that is really cheap. The doctor went quite deep and the pain was reduced by using a numbing cream, but it was definitely not eliminated. So now I have to try and keep them dry to make sure they heal quickly. In Cambodia, good luck with that! They are like my babies. I rub them with iodine and dab on some antibacterial cream once or twice a day. It looks like I've been afflicted by some kind of flesh eating bacteria. Below is a pic of a mole, I think it's the same one, at day 1 and day 5. Yum!

And finally, this week I learned that I should exercise with shoes on. A blood blister isn't the end of the world, but it is slightly uncomfortable. Anyway, if you ever find an exercise routine calling for mountain climbers, it is best to wear a pair of comfy shoes. You can thank me later. That's all I got for today. If you look closely at the picture, you can see a caterpillar crawling on my toe.

Vietnam. What is the hidden charm?

The tourism slogan of Vietnam, at least when I was there, was Vietnam, The Hidden Charm. It seemed accurate because the place is charming, but it's hard to pinpoint exactly what or where the charm is. We used to make fun of the slogan saying something to the effect of yeah, but nobody knows what it is!

Apparently the slogan has changed. Who knew? Now it is Vietnam, Timeless Charm. They seemed to have made the switch in early 2012. It's a bit vague to me and looks even more dated than its predecessor. There was even another slogan in the mix further adding to the confusion. That was Vietnam, A Different Orient, which was the winning entry in a nationwide contest, but was rejected by the Ministry of Culture, Sports and Tourism. You can read about that debacle here. If I was the winning designer, I'd be annoyed to say the least. Hopefully they got to keep the cash, if there was any.

I like the star, which kind of reminds me of a starfish, but I don't know why they chose so many colors. And the word orient, I didn't know anyone used that word anymore. I like the choice in font for A Different Orient, but again, this logo seems dated. 

My opinion does not matter. I'm just stating it anyway. Truth be told, I like The Hidden Charm better than the more recent variations. The original logo was nothing special, but the slogan made sense. I'm no designer, but I think my design, a fifteen minute Photoshop special and therefore a little rough around the edges, looks better than the original, but then again, I am just a little biased.

Back to the slogan, the old slogan. I think basically the charm was all the little things you saw on a daily basis that makes Vietnam what it is. Things that you just don't see elsewhere. All of those little things are charming in and of themselves, but wouldn't be enough on its own to drive tourism. You need all the pieces of the puzzle. Everything working together. So, you throw all the little charming bits together, mix 'em up and you find them incomparably charming. Collectively we'll call them the charm. And since you can never see all these charming moments at the same time, it is thus hidden. That's my theory anyway.

Five skinny guys riding by on a motorbike. Or a family of seven, some standing, some squatting and some seemingly defying gravity. A group of girls strolling to school wearing white silky ao dais. The traffic is chaotic yet controlled. Motorists running red lights. Evading the police. Riding on sidewalks. A feeling that this is a no rules society. A woman on a motorbike with a dog at her feet and a dog on the seat behind. A guy with a boxed refrigerator on the back of his motorbike that doesn't appear to be tied down. A family of five coming going down a one-way street in the wrong direction in the dark with no headlight in the pouring rain. Mind boggling. But charming all the same.

Women wearing pajamas all day long. Men wearing white ankle socks, pointy black dress shoes drinking cà phê sữa đá all day long. Xe ôm drivers napping on their motorbikes. Hearing You so handsome as you walk through the market. Am I? Sitting on tiny cracked plastic stools in the evening, drinking cheap beer and eating delicious food on the sidewalk watching the world go by. Being a part of the insanity. Living in a place that feels like an ant hill that has just been stepped on. The hustle and bustle is occasionally too intense. Feeling totally enlivened one moment and completely exhausted the next. How do people live like this?

I won't get into it all. That's just what immediately comes to mind. There is the magic in the mountains in the north where a number of ethnic minorities live. Sapa! The terraced rice paddies, women with long hair down to their mông, the limestone outcroppings in Halong Bay and in Ninh Bình. The ladies carrying bamboo poles over their shoulders. Verdant green rice paddies, the incredible downpours during the rainy season, people who won't take no for an answer. Shoe shine? No. Shoe shine? No, thanks. Shoe shine? No!

It's even the habits that we loathe. Public nose picking is omnipresent. People getting on an elevator before anyone has gotten off. Line cutting. Cupping your mouth while using a toothpick to avoid offending anyone. Never mind digging for gold without a care in the world. Or talking on your mobile phone so that everyone can hear you. Turning right from where you'd normally turn left. Cutting people off. It's all part of the charm. I'm not sure if I've really convinced myself. It may not seem like it at the time, but as a whole, it's all what sets Vietnam apart. How it differs from our own norms.

In any case, I'm sure there are a number of men who might beg to differ. Myself being one of them. Sure, maybe all of what I've mentioned so far is what makes Vietnam charming not to mention incredibly frustrating at the same time. Well, if that's not it, what else could it be? What is the real charm? I'll tell you. Maybe it's legs. Well, not just any old legs. Sexy, feminine legs. You've got to be kidding me. You heard me. It makes total sense. Covered during the day they are hidden. Nobody wants dark skin so they wear their áo dài, pajamas, tight jeans or stay at home. And then bam! The evening rolls around and they are exposed. The cat's out of the bag. You were just on your way home after work and you saw some legs. Some long legs straddling the back of a motorbike. And then some more. They're everywhere! All of a sudden you find yourself driving to the bar for "just one." Incredibly charming, distracting and enchanting. That's what is, folks. Legs, the hidden charm. It's about time we knew.

Cambodia: the kingdom of "I wonder..."

Cambodia, the Kingdom of Wonder. This has been Cambodia's tourism slogan since 2008. As far as I can tell anyway. I've done enough googling that my head hurts. The inspiration for which was obviously the awe-inspiring, one and only Angkor Wat. It does make you stop and think though. Is that exactly what they were talking about? Wonder as in awe? amazement? wonderful? wow? astonishment? an inspirational moment? You see the temples for the first time, perhaps at sunrise and are instantly struck by their beauty. It certainly is a wonder. Which slowly begins to dissolve as a Disneyland type atmosphere eventually prevails as busload after busload of tourists arrive making this marvel seem slightly less marvelous.

Or does the slogan make you wonder? Do you wonder how the temples were built? Or do you wonder how Cambodia went from those glory days to the present day? I'm not going to get into that. You can read all about Cambodia's history and in particular, the "Dark ages of Cambodia" here. There is plenty to wonder about any place you go, not just Cambodia. I'm no expert, but this is what I wonder.

I wonder if he's just asking for directions.

I wonder if this was the man of her dreams.

 I wonder if he plays with a short or long stick.

I wonder if this "gasoline" will get me home.

I wonder if she has testicles.

[It's not advisable to google "ladyboy" and click on images]

I wonder if those are real.

I wonder what's really in this beer.

I wonder how much he paid for that.

I wonder if she really thinks I'm a handsome man.

I wonder how many more years this guy will run the country.

[since 1979]

I wonder why there are so many nice cars like this...

...while there are so many beggars...

...and homeless children everywhere you look.

I wonder if they paid the licensing fee.

Ok, that's enough wondering for today. Now I just wonder what else to do today. I wonder if someone will steal my laptop when I go to the bathroom. I wonder what I'll eat for lunch. I wonder how much sugar was in my coffee. I wonder if the beans were fairly traded. I wonder wonder who, who wrote the book of love?

Source of all pictures: the Internet

If you are one of the men in the pictures, blame Google. I googled "sexpat" and there you were. 

Stop wondering how I got your picture.

I need a beer, some conversation and maybe a hand to hold

I started feeling antsy around 7 last night. I needed to do something. There wasn't enough food in the fridge and there was no liquor in the house to squash any of the rising emotions. So I called the girl I had most recently slept with in hopes of going out for dinner or perhaps some dessert. Anything to get out of the house. I felt like having some company, some conversation, to practice my Khmer, to flirt, to chew the fat with anybody to feel like a normal human being. I can only watch so many Youtube videos about universal consciousness, the hidden agenda of the New World Order, aliens and the vibrational patterns of water when exposed to different frequencies. It's all interesting and engaging stuff and I prefer to research, read, watch and write alone, but at some point I need some human interaction. It's good to be alone, but too much time alone and I need to be with people, for like thirty minutes.

Do it.

I was feeling antsy.

So I called the girl, but it was already too late. Calling someone right before you want to go out and expecting them to be available is like thinking that every light should turn green as you approach an intersection. The world revolves around me! Fortunately I didn't have those expectations. Tomorrow, tomorrow. I didn't know what to do now, but I still had to eat or get a beer. I didn't really need a beer, but the more I thought about it, the better it sounded. So I drove around pondering my options and settled on bar 136, a hostess bar near the riverside that I had frequented occasionally in the past, but not recently made an appearance. I thought I was over it.

Hostess bars, everywhere you look.

It had been a few months probably. I really don't like hostess bars, but there was a girl at this one with whom I was particularly smitten. She wasn't a prostitute. Yeah. She told me! I know, I know. You can never believe what you are told in these parts. So many lies! A part of me did believe her story and I wanted to think that some of these places harbored some innocent minds. That they were there only for the tip money and the social atmosphere. I had this crazy fantasy that I would marry this bar girl, teach her my language, protect her and save her from a life of poverty and prostitution. I'd already seen the movie. I'm pretty sure every male expat has had some sort of similar fantasy. Most of us know better than to actually pursue this reality, but some still do. But this one's different!

Will I create the sequel?

Anyway, I will always recall that one evening I sat there at the bar imbibing my second Angkor draft, that nasty local lager that happened to taste like sweet nectar of the gods while my hand was holding hers under the table. It felt real, or maybe it was just about the riel [Cambodian currency], but I am capable of fooling myself. It was all I needed at the time. I had high school flashbacks to when I held hands in the kitchen with my then girlfriend and I was as content as could be. Very similar situation and it hadn't felt like that in a long, long time. Powerful stuff. That was reason enough for me to become a repeat customer in hopes of reliving that experience.

The joy of holding hands.

I hesitatingly walked through the doors last night and sat down at the bar. I avoided looking around and figured that the girl-who-will-remain-anonymous would come to my attention sooner or later. I chatted briefly with the 40 something year old Vietnamese lady I had spoken with before. The dim lights make it harder to accurately determine someone's age and also made everyone a notch more attractive. I order my beer and wait. It seems that the girls behind the bar recognize me, but I realize later they are just making me feel welcome. I am just another patron to them. A girl behind me asks me if I'm looking for the girl-who-will-remain-anonymous and proceeds to tell me it is her day off. Not meant to be.

Bar girls.

Maybe that's why I hesitatingly walked through those doors. Slowly waking up from that dream. I took another sip from my beer and started to realize a) that this place was depressing and b) they didn't give me any peanuts. I was the only customer surrounded by twenty young women who were waiting for someone to buy them a drink or be taken home for the hour or the night to earn some money to help support their baby and/or their family. I silently wished them well while paying for my beer. I took a final sip, slid off my stool and took a deep breath as I got outside. Made a wrong turn there, I thought. Now where?

I decided to head for the beer garden. Nothing new there. I could have a couple cheap beers in a place where you never really feel alone and then head home. I made an intentional detour down street 172 where a friend, obviously female, works at a recently opened pizza shop. Obviously craving some conversation, I stopped to feel some semblance of a connection with humanity before heading to my final destination. I was buzzed after one beer and no dinner and enjoyed this three minute "heart-to-heart." I thought if it wasn't for the makeup, the daily self-portraits with her iPhone on Facebook, her lisp and the fourteen year age gap, we could have something.

Onward. I buzzed up street 172 avoiding foreign pedestrians ambling in the street, gingerly crossed street 19 and on up to Norodom where I quickly looking both ways on this busy boulevard and blasted across the street as fast as I could with an aging 100cc Honda Win. I crossed street 51, home to the infamous Heart of Darkness and past Pontoon, the other flagship nightclub, pulled into the parking lot, over the speed bumps, past the toilets and waited for the quiet kid with the tickets and the stapler to give me my end of the ticket while he stapled the other end to my handlebars. I parked the bike, set her in neutral and walked to the beer garden. I've done this before.

So you can follow along, of course.

It wasn't crowded at all. A very quiet Sunday night. This was both good and bad. Good because I could sit nearly anywhere I wanted, but bad because there wasn't much to capture my attention. Not much to look at and little choice in conversation besides the girls who worked there. But whatever, I was already there. I ordered a jug of Angkor. At 2.50 a jug, it's the stingiest drink on the menu. I even got peanuts. So I sat and watched the Filipino cover band, an aging couple who sounded better than they looked. Halfway through my jug, they disappeared. They may have been there, but I no longer saw them. Strangely, I have no recollection. I think the formaldehyde in the beer causes memory loss.

That's a jug of piss, approximately four glasses full.

The beer was going down much quicker than usual. Perhaps because I hadn't eaten and there was nothing slowing its passage. Like a ground up mass of rice and saliva, for example. There was surprisingly no lack of conversation despite the lack of customers. The waitresses were still there and had little to do. I talked to the super friendly girl with the big boil on her face. I talked to the ultra thin one who always smiled even when she wasn't happy. She taught me the difference in pronunciation between the words gon-laing (place) and jom-laik (strange). I hope I never have to say 'strange place' because I'm bound to fuck up that combination. She even taught me how to say 'stingy man' in case I ever wanted to describe myself, I guess.

From there it was more conversations or flirtations with another girl who speaks very little English, another girl who wears high-heeled sandals, hair extensions and too much makeup and the divorced curly haired girl who used to live in the states and sort of walks like she just got off a small horse. There was nothing going on, but so much going on. This all intermingled with the glances of a local dude who couldn't stop staring in my direction. Uncomfortable after the fourth time, but I was in a jovial mood and almost started flirting with him just for kicks. I was almost feeling too straight. Before I knew it, my jug was gone. One more? No, thanks.

Before I could get on out of there, one of the three sisters asked if I was going to say hi to her younger sister. I had met her at the market while shopping for an electric kettle and I considered her a friend, but nothing more. Not yet. I figure soon I'll be asked if I love her or if I can give her some money. That's the way it seems to work. My answers will be no and no. I proceeded over to the kitchen to say hello and immediately all eyes were on me. Everyone, including the owner, who sat at the bar, the sister who led me over there, the chef and three bartenders watched me and presumably thought I was about to drop to one knee and pop the question. They were disappointed. Maybe next week.

I can feel your eyes.

Weekend jibber jabber

It's Saturday. Just another day when you're voluntarily unemployed. The wifi was not working at my house this afternoon and so as I often do, I went out to find a coffee shop. I like to mix it up so I don't get totally stuck in a routine. To stimulate my brain a little. Sometimes I go to Kiriya, sometimes to Java, occasionally to Brown, Paul's Brewehouse, Cafe 701, Q Tea, Spinelli, anywhere for the sake of change. To try something new, to see different faces and just to get out of the house. That last one is probably the most important.

I love when people misspell shit.

So after watching The Town (2010), a pretty entertaining affair by Ben Affleck, I started feeling antsy and was in one of those moods that suggested I gotta get the fuck outta the house, now! I hustled to get my bag together and made my way to the river, intent on hitting up Brown, a local comfortable chain of coffee houses. It was pretty busy the previous Saturday, but I was able to find a chair that didn't overly offend my hemorrhoids. These hardwood chairs are the last to be chosen anywhere and I find them a bit offensive, but sometimes you can't be choosy.

From The Town.

I noticed the obscene number of motorbikes out front as I pulled up and knew it was going to be messy. And indeed it was. The only available seating was in someone's lap, on the floor or an outside table and none was a suitable option. Sitting outside on a sunny day in Cambodia is not a viable option unless you are a) Khmer or b) on the beach and I was neither of those. Even if they said "Everything is free for this massive inconvenience and we profusely apologize" I would have declined the offer and gone elsewhere. Anywhere with air conditioning and a cushion for my buttocks. So off I went to find a less popular and hopefully less packed establishment. I'm pretty confident saying they didn't miss me. I was just a blur in someone's peripheral vision as there were plenty of others to service. Sounds like a dirty massage parlor. Getting serviced.

Reminds me a lot of why I used to hate working Monday to Friday. On a weekend furlough from prison to go out and smell the fresh air and live and breathe and then start counting down the hours until you had to get back at it. Nothing has ever felt right about that. And that's why I haven't done it for over a decade. I don't know what makes me think I can do it now. And going into a place packed with those people, celebrating those two short days of independence somehow brings me back into this reality that I find too difficult to bear. I'd rather hibernate at home for the weekend and then only emerge while the masses toil away under flickering fluorescent lights staring at glowing screens changing the world with each click on the keyboard. Yeahhhhh. I guess if the weekend is a weekend furlough then retirement would be like parole. And when people finally get out, some just don't know what to do with themselves anymore. Freedom is too boring.

Here we go again!

So anyway, I quickly left that Brown for another. And again, the number of motorbikes out front almost had me driving away without even looking inside. Figuring it would be busy everywhere I parked my bike to have a look. To my surprise there were actually a few choices so I saddled up a chair after ordering a small Americano and a double chocolate chip muffin. This is probably the most reasonably priced coffee shop in Phnom Penh and it's not surprising why it's often crowded even during the week. The coffee is good and the muffins are too. Makes me want to bake my own. Fortunately I don't own an oven otherwise I'd be eating sweets all day.

It's time to get the fuck outta this coffee shop. Now I have that feeling I've been sitting here too long and that I need to get moving again. Go home to find my wifi is still not working, which would be fine in that it forces me to do something else. Maybe even be social, but I doubt it.

Fast forward to Sunday. I forgot to finish this thing. I don't even remember what I was writing about. And here I am at the Brown by the riverside. There were no tables again despite me arriving a few hours earlier today. I decided to wait and within a few minutes a table opened up. Now I'm hogging a table for six, but I'm willing to share with any attractive female patrons that happen by. As long as they don't talk to much because I'm busy. As you can see.

Brown coffee. I prefer it black.

It feels like a happy joyous place. People are smiling and drinking up cupfuls of energy all around me. They better soak up the happy vibes while they can. It'll be back to the cubicle tomorrow for most of them. That or the classroom. Restoring their body's energy to a normal level before it starts nosediving again as soon as the alarm goes off tomorrow morning. What a buzzkill that is. Beep beep beep. Thank fuck it's Wednesday! Almost there. TGIF! And then it's party time. And the beat goes on.

2 motorbikes, 2 thumbs and 3 money grubbers

I left my house yesterday only to find that neither of my motorbikes would start. The first one I hadn't driven for a while so I understood when she only coughed and sputtered. Oh well, I thought, I'll deal with that later. I pushed her back up the incline beyond the security gate and wheeled out my other bike. That one wouldn't start either. Sputtered and died. Even the usually reliable kickstart did nothing. I resisted the temptation to push the bike over in the street and I laughed to show everyone that I was really enjoying the experience.

Something is in the air, I thought. Could my own energy have affected the bikes? I had just done some qigong and energy work to open my chakras. I wonder. I could feel the stares from the tuk tuk drivers on the distant corner. I could feel a sense of pity on the foreigner who had two bikes that didn't work. I have only recently realized that having two older motorbikes basically equates to having two problems. One is plenty. I didn't have many options at this point so I wheeled my bike down the street to the sidewalk mechanic around the corner.

I'd been to this guy before. He knows my bike. He has two thumbs on his left hand. Or is it his right hand? I'd seen people with two thumbs before, but never had the opportunity to look at them this close before. I wanted to take a picture of him flashing the thumbs up sign, which would in effect be a double thumbs up, but I could hardly ask for such a favor purely for my own amusement. I felt like a dick just for thinking about it. I think he could only use one of the thumbs. I wondered if he would have inadvertently slammed the extra thumb in the car door if he had a car. What's wrong with my mind?

He told me to come back in a couple hours. It was running when I came back with my other bike. The thing that kept the battery charged was faulty. Whatever that thing was. It cost $14. I waited with my other bike and occasionally tried to start it to show him the problem without words. He was busy working on another customer's bike. I was pretty sure it was entertaining to see a guy with two broken bikes. That's what I was sure of, but they probably didn't give a shit.

The second bike needed a new spark plug. I'm pretty sure it didn't really need one, but it was only $2.50 and more importantly, it worked. I think it was the choke that did the trick. I would have tried starting it with the choke, I just didn't know where it was! Idiot. At least I know what the black thing is now. But my problems were not over yet. I noticed something leaking. Was it water? Please say it's water. No, it was gasoline! Fuck. The gas tank was leaking. Apparently the tank had rusted out in that area. He could only offer a temporary fix by rubbing a bar of soap into the affected area. Pretty ingenious stopgap solution. One thing after another, I thought. Getting tired of this!

This is what my old gas tank looked like. A little rough.

Later, while bringing my bikes home, the neighbor girl motioned to me so I went over to chat as I usually do every few days. They have a restaurant in the front of their home. She offered me a chair so I sat down and she started talking about my nose as she usually did. She then asked me half jokingly to give her my motorbike. After all, I had two and she had no money. Good idea! This was only the third time in a week I've been asked by a Khmer woman for money or something else holding substantial value. I'm getting over it!

The first time my 'friend' called me to tell me her father needed money otherwise they'd take away his house. I didn't even ask how much they needed. It sounded expensive. I told her I couldn't help yet she called me back twice and sent a followup text. I don't think we're really friends anymore. Another friend asked me for money to take a tuk tuk and when I generously offered her five dollars she shook her head and asked for thirty. And now, here's my neighbor asking for my motorbike. Love it!

She basically said I was rich and pointed to my clothes as an example. I laughed and proceeded to tell her I bought my shorts for three dollars, my t-shirt for a dollar and my boxers for a dollar. My shoes were old and cost me $20. I could have told her about my belt, which I've owned for 15 years and the fact I don't wear jewelry or any other accessories. Or that I brush my teeth with baking soda and my deodorant is rubbing alcohol, but I choose to do that. I then pulled out my cheap, scratched up, barely audible Nokia and asked to see her phone. She opened up a drawer and there lying on a pile of small riel notes was an iPhone. Yeah, that's what I thought!

My Nokia is not this technologically advanced.

I know I'm more privileged. I know it's easier for me to make money. I know I could be more generous.  And I know there's this philosophy that if you don't ask, you don't receive. Or if you don't ask you'll never know. But it kind of ruined this sense of friendship I thought existed. Maybe I was fooling myself. In any case, I left feeling slightly annoyed, but I felt like I had sort of proven my point or at least convinced myself that she wouldn't ask me again. Just another person who will call me stingy. Yay!

So today, I decided to fix the gas tank leaking motorbike. I took it to a proper mechanic who gave me two reasonable options. Thankfully much better options than I had anticipated. Option one was to remove the tank, drain the gas, let it dry overnight and weld the hole. $18 however no guarantees the tank wasn't impaired in other locations. Option two was to switch out my tank with another Honda Win's tank he happened to have parked outside. $40. I chose the second more expensive option.

I asked him how long this swapping of the tanks might take. I was trying to decide where to go to wait it out. He said ten minutes. Ten minutes! I seriously wish I had mechanic skills. I had one problem with the new tank. It was an ugly green color. I preferred to keep my bike all black. This was apparently not a problem. The guy doing the labor wiped it down and sprayed it black out on the sidewalk. That took an extra five minutes and voila, I had a new matte black tank. It looks pretty slick and almost feels like I'm riding a new motorbike. Almost.

Quite an improvement I must say. Slick!

Anyway, this story is over. It's old news. It's a new day. I'm recharged as are my motorbikes and at the moment, I have no problems. Well, aside from the distended belly from the apple fritter I ate last night. But that too shall pass. Quite literally actually. Anyone want to buy a motorbike? I think I want a bicycle. And an iPhone.