Rainy days, cheap booze and delicious curries

I'm pretty much only writing this so I don't have to look at the greased up bodybuilders in my previous post every time I look at my blog. Move it on down the page, please. It kind of disturbs me. I'm also writing this to kill an hour before going back to a bar up the hill to gaze my eyes upon a pretty girl. It'll be a more suitable time to imbibe a frosty ale and I'll also have the opportunity to slip into something more comfortable. It's happy hour and the beer is still outrageously priced at one dollar. Hell, I could go down to the beach and get one for 50 cents, but I guess you pay more for scenery.

I was on my way back from the pharmacy where I had just procured myself a new set of earplugs. Bright orange ones they are. My old ones, greasy and a bit sandy from when I dropped them on the floor of my bungalow the other night, were slowly deteriorating. In fact, I woke up this morning with the broken tip of one earplug lodged in my left ear. Oops. I ascertained the situation and decided in a foggy haze to attempt its extraction by inserting my tongue scraper along the side of my ear canal and somehow digging it out. Long story short, after about fifteen attempts, much to my relief, it came out and I inserted my iPod in its place and attempted to get some more shuteye. But that didn't work.

Anyway, I was on my way back from the pharmacy when I heard the siren's call of lonely barmaids. One lovely lady, three faceless figures and one ladyboy were all seemingly talking at once, however the ladyboy didn't seem happy. What's wrong with him? I asked. She didn't like that. Trying to ignore him, I continued my conversation with the aforementioned lovely lady trying to assess the situation before pinky swearing I'd be back soon. I don't want to find out what will happen if I renege on my promise. Pinky swears are serious over here!

I'm staying at @Home guesthouse here in Sihanoukville. Drop by and say hi if you're in the area. It's on Serendipity Beach Road. There seem to be a lot of prostitutes here, not that you'll see any of them coming out of my room. I might come out of their's though. Oh come on, have a laugh. Keep the faith. Some of these girls are at it all day and all night. Like machines. It's very interesting to see how these girls work and off-putting to say the least. Like a fly jumping from one turd to the next. Whoever offers the most bang for the buck...er...buck for the bang.

So, I was out last night at the Moon Shack indulging in a late dinner on the beach. Sitting on a slightly damp cushioned papasan chair with a mostly-watered-down Angkor draft and seeing what the night had in store. Ended up going to places I never would have gone to in my twenties, but now that I'm older and wiser I somehow find them entertaining. Dirty beach shacks offering free shots, $1 cocktails and cheap buckets open until the wee hours with mostly backpacker types liquored up in tank tops and flip flops. 

I went to JJ's first, had a shot and ordered a free whiskey red bull. She gave me a whiskey coke. After some subpar conversation and the exodus of nearly 80% of the female patrons, I ordered a whiskey red bull, actually got it and proceeded down the beach. I made my way to the Dolphin Shack, offering similar drink specials and offering a much better ratio of girls to guys. I was too late to get the free drink with accompanying flyer so I opted for another dollar red bull cocktail. The liquor is actually not as strong as the expensive stuff, which I think is a good thing. 

It was a happening place and with a lot of dollar drink specials and not too many bar options at this time, I could understand why. I stayed there for the duration, flirting, dancing, drinking, chatting and eventually heading home alone around 2am after talking to way too many ladyboys. But having said that, there were two who were quite fascinating and I'd be happy to partake in more dancing tonight. They were hilarious. I don't want to get naked or lock lips, but anyone with looks and personalities like those two could easily get befriended by yours truly.

I could not sleep last night. Maybe I had too much red bull. Or possibly it was the two coffees I had drunk earlier. That again. Why do I even bother with that stuff? Oh yeah, cause it tastes good. So I tossed and turned, rose to pee far too many times, inserted my earplugs far too deeply and ended up rising way too early after not nearly enough hours of sleep. But apparently it was enough. The red bull still in my veins, I went for a jog on the beach all the way to the end of Occheuteal Beach and back, stripped off my sweaty tank, ran into the waves under an overcast sky and bodysurfed all the way back in on a great, well-chosen wave. A great start to a mediocre day.

And now at nearly 8pm on a Friday night, I'm fading here on the balcony. It's almost time to sip some more red bull, but first I need to put on a different dirty shirt and get that beer, as promised. And then let gravity assist me down the hill to the Moon Shack where a curry awaits. And we'll proceed from there. It'll probably rain again, but can't let getting wet bring me down. Just more fun for the idiots who end up sleeping on the beach in their drunken stupor. I will not be one of them. Time to sign off. Just saying all is well. Believe me. Safe, relatively sane and slowly but surely, one step closer to enlightenment. 

Bodybuilding in Cambodia

God this picture is gross.

Here I am, practically inhaling a bag of boiled peanuts, still sweating on my newly made up bed, waiting for the air con to kick in after a massive workout at the local gym. Fortunately I have to shell the peanuts otherwise there would just be an empty bag and only vague memories. Trying to get some protein and pack on some lean mass. Resting on my bed trying to grow.

Please don't believe me. Those days are gone. I am sweating because I did just workout, but there was nothing massive about it. I am also eating peanuts, but not for the protein. It was what was available on my bike ride back to the hotel and will tide me over until dinner. Peanuts, papaya, fried rice, mango salad, beer....is that a good diet? I don't really care to be honest, it tastes good and it fits my budget.

I just found my third local gym. I'm trying to get in better shape after nearly eight months of the occasional pushup and some half-assed leg raises in the hotel prior to eating a late breakfast. My triceps were sagging and my hips were getting way too big and it's hard to look desirable in an undersized t-shirt. So, with lack of anything better to do in the midday heat here in Cambodia, I have sought out a place to get it all back. I'm pretty sure my mind is playing tricks on me.

The first place I found was a dinky little gym next to my hotel. It was $2 to use the gym, which was basically an assembly of rusty, ancient equipment that remarkably still functioned. I got a towel and it did the trick. The other locals sharing the gym were usually shirtless and quite lean and I would have gone topless myself if I wasn't a bit self-conscious about the relative flaccidity of my abs.

I went there twice and decided to seek out other options. I found another place, a proper gym, with a big sign saying so. The place was called GYM. It was a bit farther of a pedal, but so much better. Still no air conditioning or fans, but it was only $1 and had better equipment. There were more shirtless dudes, mostly friendly, and it was a cheaper, better workout. I just didn't like the relatively dirty floor, which easily found its way onto my drenched clothes.

I worked out at the second local place a couple of times and the novelty wore off. I decided to find a more upscale place, possibly a gym within one of the many five star hotels. At least then I might take to the treadmill or the exercise bike being in an air-conditioned environment. And I also might meet the right people who could provide possible job leads. It was a win-win really.

The only problem was that most of these "gyms" were less equipped than the ancient, this-machine-is-going-to-break-on-you local places and they were way more expensive. The best one had an enormous pool and a modern air conditioned gym for $130 a month. The others ranged from $50-110, which I don't really need to say is out of my price range. I'll just sweat it up at the local places, I thought.

I had heard of a few other local gyms and today I thought I'd venture out and find the one near the Crocodile Farm. I had been out a couple days ago and couldn't find anything that resembled a gym, but I found it helped to ask. I motioned like I was lifting weights and pointed in various directions and soon I was going over the bridge by the farm, veering a slight left and there she was, right next to the ping pong club. And I'm talking table tennis, not the ping pong one finds in Bangkok.

This gym was even better equipped than the last two and had even more shirtless dudes, some of them might even be in the picture posted above. Best of all, it was only 2000 riel. That's 50 cents. I got a towel, a bottle of water and away I went. There were at least double the number of folks partaking in muscle building and a couple of other foreigners. I ignored them as they did me, which seems to be the usual tendency in situations like this, for whatever reason.

The best feature in this gym, aside from the various bodybuilding pictures posted on mirrors throughout the gym was one piece of equipment that had a missing seat. A bicycle seat had been installed in it's place. I think I'll bring my camera next time. I have to say the people weren't as friendly, which is typical of meatheads. The more serious people are about bodybuilding there seems to be a greater likelihood they might be an asshole. But perhaps I was taken to be an asshole too.

What I also noticed in Cambodian gyms is there are practically no women. The first gym had a couple girls manning the front door, taking money and handing out towels. The second gym had one female patron and she didn't stay long. And today's gym had a couple women also taking money, handing out towels and guarding the beverage display. Not surprising considering none of these gyms had much cardio equipment or yoga classes and because they probably don't want to be gawked at. And they would have been, by me.

Anyway, I suppose I will continue to throw some weights around by the crocodiles until the next best place comes around. However, I doubt I'll find one better for that price. So, I've got my gym sorted. Now I need transportation and an apartment. I think I can sort out a bike tomorrow morning for around $40 and I hear an apartment for $100 a month is not unheard of. I'm not terribly enthused by the first three I saw yesterday, but I have a feeling things will get better. And then, all I'll need is a job. Slowly but surely...

Good morning Cambodia!

Here I am in Siam Reap, again, and I am loving it. Not in the same way one loves McDonald's, from the pit of one's stomach, but from the heart. It has the right vibe, a place I could call home for a while. We'll see. I just walked by a restaurant, there are many here, where a waiter was spraying Raid on all the tablecloths. What the fuck! Of course you don't want insects on the table, but is that really necessary? I stopped, eyes partially bulging out of my head and asked as much. He said they used placemats to infer that the poison wouldn't be in contact with the food even if it fell off one's plate. Oh...in that case. I won't be eating there, but makes me wonder what all the other restaurants do to rid insects from their tabletops.

As I walked the alley this morning between Pub Street and the street adjacent to the Old Market, I searched for a cafe, ideally with air-conditioning because I am weak. It is insanely hot for 10 o'clock in the morning. My clothes are clinging to my sticky skin, which is not a nice feeling, ever, but especially not right after stepping out the door in the morning. I just freshened up! Anyway, I found a "cafe" - just a wee restaurant really - and the relative silence and cool breeze along with the chilled coconut are a perfect combination to start my day. The ant on the tablecloth, which eventually ran onto my keyboard and possibly under the keys had me wondering, if only briefly, if perhaps the other restaurant had the right idea. Don't ask, don't tell?

Oh the breeze feels amazing. Let me tell you. My coconut is gone now, as is my stream of consciousness. Oh well, I guess coconut juice saps creative potential. I'll be more aware next time I decide to post to my blog. Instead, I will savor the breeze, enjoy the people wandering, skating, sweating and begging. Not that I enjoy the latter, but it is somehow entertaining. Actually, as I write this, a young girl on rollerblades mere steps outside the restaurant continues to ask for a drink. I think I've changed my mind. Still, it's a part of life here and must be accepted.

Time to change my room. I need air-conditioning. Time to rent a bike. I need wheels. Time to apply some sunscreen. I need to protect my skin. Time to get some food. I am getting hungry. Time to visit the orphanage. I need some hugs and smiles. Time to meet a girl. I need some company. Time to get busy. I am tired of being so lazy!

Back in Bangkok

What? Here I am at Coffee World in Siam Paragon in Bangkok. Again. The fourth time I've been in Bangkok this year. It is getting more and more familiar with every visit. The mall is slowly waking up around me and still isn't very busy for nearly noon on a Tuesday. It feels like the last two months in America have been a blur. Was I really just there? Amazing.

The coffee is better in America, I'll tell you what. And it's cheaper. But hey, it's one of the few things besides electronics that is actually more expensive over here. I can handle that. My toothbrush, razor and shampoo were on par with prices I'd actually expect in SE Asia. Can't find those in Walgreens at those prices. Anyway, they probably make versions for the SE Asian market that they wouldn't even sell on the Western market. And well, if so, that's fine by me.

My voyage back over the Pacific went relatively smooth. I hate saying goodbyes and so suffice it to say, that was the most difficult part of the journey. I arrived at SFO with plenty of time to spare and was able to relax a bit prior to boarding my United flight to Tokyo Narita airport. United was actually pretty decent. I was impressed. A lot of legroom, great entertainment options and decent food for an airline. The lavatory was big enough for a mile high orgy if one was so inclined. Usually they're so cramped it would be a difficult endeavor to even attempt to join the mile high club. I did look around, but it didn't seem that anyone else was interested. Instead, I attempted a few crosswords, listened to a lot of music, watched the movie Think Like A Man and tried to sleep as much as possible.

We arrived in Tokyo around 4:30pm local time after nearly 11 hours in the air. Breezed through security, had enough time to post an update on Facebook, brush my teeth and stretch my legs prior to boarding the last leg of the journey to Bangkok. Departure time was 5:50pm and the ensuing six hour flight to Bangkok was less pleasurable than the first, but still bearable. It seems the ANA flight was on an older Boeing and the legroom was more suitable for the standard Japanese passenger. Fortunately, it was a shorter flight and I was able to sleep a little, listen to more music and watch another relatively unmemorable movie.

We touched down at Suvarnabhumi Airport at 10:30pm and I hustled to Immigration. As I arrived, an airport employee opened the lane ropes to a whole new bevy of Immigration Officials just waiting to stamp passports. It's a rare and pleasant experience to breeze through immigration, especially in Bangkok. I did have a short wait at the baggage carousel, but that wait caused me to scan signs and I found the Airport Rail Link ran until midnight, which gave me sufficient time to get to my hotel without having to take a taxi. I got my pack, boarded the train, changed lines at Phaya Thai and changed again at Siam Square catching the last train of the evening at 11:58pm to my stop at National Stadium - the end of the line for me and for the train.

I was worried that somehow my reservation might have been erroneously taken, but after a quick pit stop at 7/11 for some water, I rounded the bend on Soi Kasem San 1, mentally crossing my fingers, found the gate to the Pranee Building still unlocked and a woman still awake at her desk upon my arrival at the cheapest accommodation available in this neck of the woods. I was scribbled into her book and proceeded to show her my passport, pay the 350 baht and take the keys. My knees ached as I headed up the stairs. It was just after midnight and I was happy to have made it "home" with so few, if any obstacles in my path.

As I came to the second landing, things began to look familiar. I had only stayed at the Pranee once before, in June of this year, prior to departing for the states. I had caught the first train of that morning to the airport. And here on this day in August, my return, I caught the last train of the night. I checked my key, room 34 and thought it might have been the same room I had been in previously. I opened the door and sure enough, my old flip flops were there on the rack outside the bathroom. I had asked the owner if I could trade flip flops as his fake Havaianas were a better fit, if not more worn than my undersized Hippos, that I had recently purchased in Nepal. He had surprisingly obliged.

Everything else was the same too, from the blue towels to the faded blue floral sheets. I avoided the dusty wardrobe, setting my pack to the side and unpacking only the necessities. I locked the door, chain included, took a shower, brushed my teeth, inserted my waxy earplugs, flipped off the lights and pulled up the towel-resembling-a-bed-sheet and slept relatively soundly until eight in the morning. And here I am. Back in Bangkok. Now what?

Man in the kitchen

It's not too often I've been in the kitchen in recent years other than to wash dishes or mindlessly consume from the fridge. This afternoon, with a little time on my hands and some pre-purchased goods from Trader Joe's, I decided to make an old favorite. Chocolate-covered peanuts. Essentially the same as taking a handful of peanuts and chocolate chips and throwing them into your mouth, but not really. They're a bit more fancy in the form of chocolate peanut clusters. Simple dessert to bring to a potluck or a yummy snack to keep in the fridge and pretend that the goodness in the peanuts is offsetting the empty calories in the chocolate.

First, go to Trader Joe's or your local grocery store. Buy a 16 oz package of roasted and salted peanuts and a 12 oz package of semi-sweet chocolate chips. This is what you'll be mixing and later consuming. I've tasted other chocolate chips and I've yet to find a comparable brand. Buy at your own risk. Don't buy peanuts in the shell unless you really like shelling peanuts and you like the peanut skin as additional roughage.

All the goods you need. 

Set up a double broiler or make your own. I don't even know what a double boiler is. Put a bit of water in a pot, perhaps an inch or two and turn on the heat. Boil that shit. Put a frying pan on top of the pot and make sure the pan is bigger than the pot. If you just asked yourself Why? you probably shouldn't be in the kitchen. You're essentially heating up the pan to melt the chocolate chips without burning them. Throw in the bag of chips and mix 'em up with a metal or wooden spoon. Don't melt plastic shit with your chocolate! You might want to reduce the heat and release some steam from time to time.

The make-shift double boiler.

Chips beginning to lose form.

Almost one.

Once melted, it's time to add the peanuts. Add the peanuts bit by bit. Not peanut by peanut. Unless you really enjoy the process. Try half the bag, mix it up, add the next 1/4, mix and then the remainder. Mix it all up til all the peanuts are covered in chocolate, the scent wafting up into your nostrils without sampling the goods  before you're finished - you'll burn your mouth!

All melted and waiting for peanuts.

All mixed up!

Meanwhile, take out some trays and line them with wax or parchment paper. Actually, set this up beforehand. At this point, the heat should be set to low just to keep the chocolate from setting prematurely. Take a small metal spoon and drop/drizzle spoonfuls of the mix onto the wax paper. It's up to you how big you want your clusters. Once you've finished drizzling the deliciousness onto the trays, find a space in the fridge and give them an hour or three to set. I prefer my chocolate to melt in my mouth, not on my hands.

Lined tray waiting for its purpose in life.

Make as big as you like.

Put in the fridge and give time to set.

Now you get to clean up. Spoon the remaining melted chocolate from the pan and insert into your mouth. Don't count calories, it's definitely not worth it. If you've spilled a little chocolate whilst transferring from the pan to the tray, don't worry, it's still edible. Eat and enjoy, wash those fucking dishes as soon as possible and do something to take your mind off the fridge. Eat whatever meal comes next to get some quality calories down your throat and fill your belly and then open the fridge and indulge. You're welcome.

These won't last long.

Zoom in to drool. 

Living the easy life

Ok, this is getting ridiculous. What day is it? Wednesday, July 18. I think I stopped work about this time last November. Last November! Eight months traveling, eating, sleeping, thinking, playing, enjoying, drinking, depressing, walking, talking, living, loving, hating and reuniting. The "fun" times are nearing their end as they always do and I am ready to immerse myself into conventional Western society. Find a job, find a wife, rear some kids, grow old and live happily ever after.

Life in the West ain't so bad really. It's just not so wild anymore. Sitting here with a bowl of pecan praline granola topped with fresh strawberries and organic dried cranberries, soaked in almond milk, occasionally aided down the hatch with slurps of now cool but still robust coffee. You don't get this in SE Asia. Staring at my new MacBook Pro, I feel like I've just undergone Lasik again. I don't even have the new retina display, but this is such a significant upgrade over my old netbook that it seems like I do. Once you go Mac you never go back. Or so it would seem.

They don't have $2 haircuts in the West, which is a shame, but fortunately there are do-it-yourself options. I just did it this morning and although the clean up is a bit tedious and I'll never look as slick without a proper barber, this option does the trick for now. The one thing the West does have going for it is the peace and quiet. Holy shit, I can't remember the last time I've had such quiet nights. Doesn't mean my mind isn't making noise, but at least I can't blame the guy on the motorbike in the alley and wish him dead for contributing to my perpetual sleeplessness.

Not that I really wish anybody dead. Just throw a mental stick through their spokes and send them flying over the handlebars headlong into a cement wall. That'll teach 'em for unnecessarily using the horn. The problem is this kind of education would be a very slow process. You'd have to break nearly everyone's neck and probably twice before they got it. As a Westerner you just have to accept the noise, grin and bear it as they say, otherwise you'll just go mental. And once you go mental, you need to find some peace and sanity before you can go back into the fray.

I do miss the heat of southeast Asia. Naturally I think I have semi-acclimitized and California summers don't feel as hot as they used to. Of course, I have been mostly in San Francisco, but that's a different story. As Mark Twain said, the coldest winter I ever spent was a summer in San Francisco. Really? Regardless, it is cold most of the time in the summer here. However, even outside of the Bay Area where I have been warned it's too hot to be outside, I have found it to be quite to my liking. Ahhh, warms up my bones. Always prefer to be too hot rather than too cold. To sweat on top of the sheets rather than shiver under them.

I played golf last week with my Dad and one of his friends. I lost as per usual, but it's getting pathetic. My Dad is 70 and playing worse every day (according to him) and his friend is 83. To give myself some credit, I don't play very often, but I should be carding a better score. It appears it is time to hang up the clubs, but I'll keep whacking balls as long as my company is accepted out on the links and as long as my clubs don't end up bent around my knee.  It's been a long time since I've done that, not taking myself too seriously out there these days. It's more fun to try and hit a few good shots and end up with a few pars, perhaps a birdie and as few quadruple bogies as possible.

Well, it's time to check Facebook to see if I have any new likes or other notifications. Time to think about what to eat for lunch even though I just had breakfast. What music to listen to. To think about what exercise I should engage in today, but actually not partake in it at all. It's the thought that counts after all. To shave those unruly chest hairs and pluck those pesky mole hairs. Too much time on my hands, yes that's for sure. But the clock is ticking and it won't always be so. Living the easy life the only way I know how, enjoying it while it lasts, but glad it's not forever.

A month in America

I can't believe I've been back for a month. Almost. My recent travels seem like a blur. A month ago I was exiting customs at the San Francisco International Airport and stepped out to see unfamiliar faces. My plane arrived an hour early. I forgot to resend my itinerary and confirm who would meet me at the airport, but I hoped for the best. Shortly thereafter, I looked up and found my Dad wandering into the arrivals hall unaware that I was already there. Almost like I had never even gone anywhere. Almost.

And here I sit at Royal Ground Coffee at 17th and Geary in the Richmond District, reliving old memories. Not really, I have a bad memory. At least the weather is nice. It's like October has come early. A sunny day in San Francisco during the summer? What!? It's true, there is no fog to be seen anywhere, not yet anyway. It will be cold later to be sure, just like last night, walking home from the bar, slightly shivering and having to pee, making it that much worse.

Back in America and I am craving a donut. A chocolate old-fashioned, please. How much more American can you get? I need to have one every couple of years. And tonight, going to a baseball game and watch some pre-fourth of July fireworks. Now that's American. I'll skip the hot dog, substitute a burrito and eat a bag of peanuts. Sit in the bleachers, root for the home team and hope nobody pukes on my back. That happened to my Mom many years ago. Good memories!

It is so quiet here in America. No honking. In Truckee, I couldn't hear anything at night. The house is so well-insulated and away from anybody else it's hard not to get a good night's sleep. Unless I drink a beer and then my sleep is interrupted. In Montana, all I could hear was the train and my heart beating. Weird. And in San Francisco, the occasional bus or one of my nephews whispering to see if I'm still asleep. I am, I feign, in the hope of just one more hour of relative silence.

We wrestle. WWF style. Well, not really, but almost. Cheating is guaranteed, but I guess we never really set the rules. My nephews pull my hair, poke my butt, gouge my eyes, tweak my ears, kick my crotch, scratch my face, pick my nose, yank my clothes and wipe their dirty hands over my lips as they try to grab anywhere they can. It's only fair I suppose considering my size advantage. I try to set some rules in the process, body slam them, pull their baby toe, tickle them and avoid kicks to the face and groin as much as possible.

It's good to be back. My visit was definitely overdue. But I feel strange. Awkward in America. I feel like I don't belong here anymore. And I realize as I did long ago, I don't have to do this. I don't want to do it. I know it doesn't have to be this hard. This feels hard. And unnecessary. And if I did it, I'd feel trapped and want to escape. So, I'm not going to do it, whatever that is exactly and just keep on keeping on. I'm living, maybe not the way I'm supposed to or the way people want me to, but it works for me. I'm grateful for what I have and where I am now, but I don't want this forever. Just saying.