Christmas 2008

Vichea and Grace in ritual humiliation attire

Living in a country that is Buddhist, you would think that Christmas would be non-event. You would be wrong! Cambodia embraces Christmas with gusto. Retail stores role out the trees and tinsel, Santa hats and suits are sold by the truckload, windows are frosted over and rivers of money start flowing as the local Buddhist population switch sides for a few days and become avid consumers. Initially I held the stance that this was a bastardization of a perfectly good religion in the name of capitalistic consumption but as I watched all the kids get so excited leading up to the big day and all the effort they put in, I changed my outlook completely. In a country with such a high level of struggle and suffering and such a shitty history, I decided that what-the-hell, if they want to celebrate Christmas, then I would do my best to make it special for them.

Christmas Eve

Last year we had a simple Christmas lunch in a restaurant with a few friends. It was nice but with this year being our daughter’s first ever Christmas, we wanted to do something more family orientated. After discussions with my “family guy” mates here, we decided that The Compound was well suited to host a big Christmas party so a kitty was raised a few days earlier and the wheels were set in motion. As I ran around for a few days buying Christmas presents for Grace and Leakhana, my wife and her family went to work on our apartment. A lovely tree with all the trappings was bought, tinsel and baubles were strung up, the garden got made over with fairy lights, DVDs with Christmas carols were playing, and the result was fantastic.

Come Christmas Eve, the whole family was in fine spirits. We went out and bought some beer and wine and some Peking Duck and BBQ’d pork and sat down in our Christmas wonderland for a pre-xmas warm-up nosh. My wife looked over at me and must have sensed my happiness because she asked “Sweetheart, do you feel like you are in Australia?” Of course at times like this I really miss my family in Australia and I especially miss our farm Xanadu and how it looks come Christmas with all my mum’s decorating efforts. However as I looked over at my Khmer family, my wife and our lovely little daughter, I was indeed very happy. I have said it before and I will say it again - I feel very lucky to have such great Khmer-in-laws. Many guys here see their in-laws as the bane of their existence but I love mine. The kids are all very engaging and helpful and after 3 years together, they know they can have a bloody good laugh when they come over. The older members genuinely care for me and enjoy being around me and now my Khmer is intermediate, we now chat away about a lot of things.

On Christmas morning we got up early (more at my insistence than anything else – it’s tradition!) and after making some fresh coffee, the three of us sat down and began opening the mountain of presents under the tree. My sister Sibella sent an amazing Xmas care package over that contained an endless stream of presents for Leakhana, Grace and Vichea. Clothes, swimsuits, make-up, Xmas crackers etc. The box seemed bottomless!! Sarah had sneakily left a present in a bottom drawer during her last visit – a lovely little swimsuit. I gave Leakhana a few things (some dresses, Sex in the City DVDs, kitchen stuff) and her eyes really lit up when she got her main present – an 8 day driving course. Right now she cannot drive a car but she is going to learn. We then played “dress the baby” and changed Grace into all her new clothes which she thought was great fun.

It was then into organisation overdrive. Veasna arrived on cue like a little angel at 9a.m and whilst he and Leakhana swept, mopped and generally got the Apartment in ship-shape condition, I headed out to the market to procure charcoal and massive blocks of ice for the bathtub. I hosed down the front courtyard and moved furniture around and the fridge was re-organised to handle all the food that would soon arrive. Before you could say “quick as a wink”, guests started arriving with all manner of fare. The kitty was used to buy hams, prosciutto, fine cheeses, olives, salted herring, fresh bread and “the bar”. Several bottles of single malt whiskey, Bombay Sapphire gin, vodka, baileys, a case of Chilean red wine, beer, mixers, limes would all ensure no-one went thirsty. People also bought fresh lasagne and foam containers full of Khmer food so the spread was really quite something to behold.

Eat

Drink

Kids ran around all over the place like the plague, women chatted, men guzzled and food and drink was consumed in industrial quantities. Guests came and went, came and went, came and went and passer by stopped to gawk. At one stage I had to go into the NGO Villa next door and ask….nay….TELL them to turn their bloody huge diesel genset off. They had decided that 4pm on Christmas afternoon just as we all started to eat would be a great time for a 2 hour service. I told the owner that as I had not complained about the Chinese drums they had beating loudly at 7am that morning ( or any of their parties for that matter ) that I thought they could at least wait until the next day to service the generator. Luckily, she agreed! Later on the men all played poker and after some fairly fast and furious, whiskey filled blow-outs, it came down to me and pilot Luke for the take-all pot of $80. Alas, Lucky Luke proved true to his name and I failed to snatch the purse.

Santa's "reindeer". Plenty of horsepower !

Xmas party in full swing

After the poker it all gets a little blurry. Happily drunken husbands and sleepy little children were hauled off by wives and single guys either crashed out where they sat and became mosquito food or headed out into the night for further celebrations. All in all, Christmas 2008 was an absolutely fantastic one and I am actually already looking forward to next year. I think I might even get into lighting up The Compound like a Christmas tree and give the whole neighbourhood a thrill. Grace had a suitable inauguration into the custom and everyone involved went home happy.

Christmas shenanigans

GRACE; A hip hop star comes to visit

Vichea came to visit yesterday in his new hip-hop outfit. At the end of the day he cast aside the bling and the entourage and ended up in the Humpy Jumpy bouncing around just like the little boy that he is. I love these shots of the two kids together.

Perspective

The following came from Bloomberg and rather than just give you a link, I will reproduce it all here to save you clicking away like mad.It is written by Michael Lewis who is the author of Liar's Poker - a book that was a bible to young money market traders like myself in the late 1980's.

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Recently I received a letter from a young employee of a well-known financial firm, who asked that I not mention his name, his employer or anything else that might give him away. Though a bit short on self-pity, this letter was otherwise a fine example of a sort I've received often these past few months.

"I am writing you for advice," Anthony began. "I graduated in May of 2008 and since July have spent my time entangled in the culture of (his well-known New York bank). I'm thinking about leaving. My dad laboured his whole life so I could have the opportunity to do something like this, so leaving isn't exactly what I want to do. I know if I stay here I could work unbelievably hard and move through the ranks, or maybe move firms [but] I guess I'm starting to question the whole securities industry."

The young man went on to concede that what attracted him to Wall Street was the chance to get rich quickly, and the excitement - but that both of these things now seem gone forever."So I have this plan to go to Hollywood," he wrote, but then instantly undermined himself. "I feel confused, a little stupid, but yet somewhat confident. I mean, I read your book, I figured out how to get to Wall Street from a non-Ivy League school, and I got here. The only question now is, if I leave, where do I go?"

Dear Anthony,

On several occasions I have taken my own advice and it has almost killed me, and so I'm a tad uneasy about offering it up to you. But if you promise not to take it any more seriously than I do, I'll answer you as best I can.

Let's start by putting your problem into perspective: you still have a job. You work at one of the world's biggest banks. It's true, the thrill and money is rapidly being drained from such places. Your big bank, like all the other big banks, seems to be in the process of being nationalised - thus the longer you stay the more you may find yourself in something resembling a government job.

But that's not all bad: government jobs are secure. You are also young, in your early 20s, and without a family to support. That is, unlike the vast majority of the people on and off Wall Street, you have the luxury to wallow in your misfortune.

Now let's wallow. We're at the beginning of a recalibration of the role of finance in global economic life. The excitement and the money that attracted you to Wall Street will probably not return for a long time. If these really are the only reasons you became a financier you probably should find something else to do with your life.

But before you go lurching into Hollywood, let us make sure you aren't simply repeating the mistake you made by lurching onto Wall Street. That is, let us focus less on your immediate condition - safely employed but disillusioned - to the habits and beliefs that led you into it.

You were never exactly wrong. If you'd been born 10 years earlier and behaved exactly as you have done, your career might well have made you as rich and seemingly successful as you imagined your father wanted you to be. You simply came to Wall Street too late, and are in the strange position of a man who won the lottery on the first day there was nothing in the pot. The mistake you made, in your view, is to have played the lottery on the wrong day. The mistake you made, in my mind, was to have played the lottery at all.

There's a question you might ask yourself: Am I looking for a job, or a calling? On the one hand, the importance you attach to your career suggests a desire for a calling; on the other, your instinct to abandon your chosen career the moment it ceases to offer an easy path to fame and fortune suggests that what you're really in the market for is a job.

The distinction is artificial but worth drawing. A job will never satisfy you all by itself, but it will afford you security and the chance to pursue an exciting and fulfilling life outside of your work. A calling is an activity you find so compelling that you wind up organising your entire self around it, often to the detriment of your life outside of it.

There's no shame in either. Each has costs and benefits. There is no reason to make a fetish of your career. There are activities other than work in which to find meaning and pleasure and even a sense of self-importance - you just need to learn how to look.

Reading between the lines, I sense that some of your anxiety is caused by your desire for the benefits of each - job and calling - without the costs. Perhaps that is what led you to Wall Street, and why your mind now turns to Hollywood.

What Wall Street did so well, for so long, was to give people jobs that they could pass off to themselves and others as callings. Such was their exalted social and financial status: Wall Street jobs made people feel special without actually having to be special. You never really had to explain why you were doing it - even if you should have.

But really, the same rule that applies to properly functioning financial markets applies to other markets: There's a direct relationship between risk and reward. A fantastically rewarding career usually requires you to take fantastic risks. To get your seat at the table on Wall Street you may have passed through a fine filter, but you took no real risk. You were just being paid, briefly, as if you had.

So which is it: job or calling? You can answer the question directly, or allow time to answer it for you. Either way, I think you'd be happier if you stopped thinking of what the world had to offer you, and started thinking a bit more about what you had to offer the world. Real excitement isn't just in whatever you happen to be doing, but in what you bring to it. In the end, you have to look for it not on the outside, but on the inside.

Michael.
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I find Michael's response pure gold. I used to work for a HUGE investment bank and was earning more money at the age of 23 than I ever have since. I was bloody good at my job but to be honest, I only ever really saw it as a way of garnering a massive pay check. I was fully aware I added no value to society,solved no problems nor added any comfort to anyone but I didn't care at that young age.It was all about the $$ and the trappings.Hell,it was nice being able to fly out to Tahiti with the girlfriend for two weeks, ski in France and drive the latest car whilst wearing Hugo Boss. Nobody understood what I did ( come to think of it....neither did I really) but all they knew was that young turks like me got paid SHITLOADS of money and that was what they admired. I made it through the filter to get that job but that's all it was....a job. It was never a calling or a rewarding career that made me feel good about myself or what I was doing .

Recently with all the economic crap-out and also now with Grace on deck, I have started to stress about money again and what the future holds.I don't know why I can't overcome this tendency of mine to stress-out about the future intermittently because what the past has taught me time and time again is that you can't control what will happen or when it will happen so why stress !!. My superannuation has taken a beating, I am trying to clear a credit card debt, service a mortgage in Australia and pay for everything here in Cambodia and I am doing it on a fairly moderate wage. We can't travel overseas EVER and at the moment even trips to Kep for the weekend are on hold.

Yesterday I had to slap myself in the face. I remembered where I am living and reminded myself that I am far better off than 99% of Cambodians and alot of others globally. I only have to travel 100m from my front gate to encounter severe poverty . This morning at work we had some wheel-chair bound athletes circling our athletic track in rickety old wheelchairs and again, I slapped myself. They were smiling and laughing and although I am sure they might have the odd day where they curse their luck, they have a right to.

Things may be tight financially but I have my health and my little family and for that I am blessed. We live in a very comfortable town house here in Phnom Penh that is a bloody palace by local standards and my health is pretty good.I have a great job that allows me to give a little bit back by way of getting things done for all the kids on Campus and whilst I am earning far less now than I did when I was much younger, I am fundamentally much happier.

At times like this, it's all about perspective.

Your comments, as always, are welcome.

Complain ? Who me ? Never !

For anyone that lives as an expat in Cambodia, you will understand how utterly hilarious the above photo is.

The Phnom Penh post has reported that concerned citizens are being encouraged to leave their complaints in this special box, which was placed outside the entrance to the Council of Ministers at the beginning of December. Long-time observers say, however, that few, if any Cambodians have taken advantage of it. Quell surprise! Considering there is probably a pipe attached to it which feeds straight to the Mekong!

What next? ;

• A complaints box about the de-beautification of the city outside the Ministry of Urban Planning?
• A complaints box about the crap traffic outside the Ministry of Traffic
• A complaints box regarding those pesky fake Chinese monks outside the Ministry of Cults and Religions (true….they really have one of these!)
• A complaints box about corruption outside Hun Sen’s private abode in Takmeo? ( If you put anything in this box an auto-sensor triggers a robotic sniper to take a head shot on you ).

Your suggestions for more complaints boxes are welcome. Please put them in the suggestions box.

Charles Bukowski

Bukowsi in action.

Years ago I decided to buy and read On The Road by Jack Keraouc. I couldn't even get past the first few chapters it was such tripe. Disjointed and self-indulgent, I missed the whole point and for a book that was written by the supposed Voice of The Beat Generation, I thought it was absolute shite. I wanted my money and my one hour back.Then, recently, Jeff was watching the movie Barfly with Mickey Rourke and he told me it was based on a writer called Charles Bukowski. This guy was apparently a bit of an iconic legend ( can you be both ?) and also lived through the Beat scene so I thought I would give him a go.

First I read Women. This was a story about Henry Chinaski, a writer and poet of some fame who busied himself with drinking and womanising.The book is clearly based on Bukowski's own mid -life but after a few chapters it became pretty repetitive and boring BUT I did like his writing style so I returned that book to Jeff's library and used my Compound Library Card to go again.

Yesterday I knocked over Factotum in about 4 hours. This book sees Chinaski in his early twenties during post-WW2 drifting from job to job ,state to state and ..yes..womanising and drinking heavily.Now....I am generally suspicious of books I can read that fast. They mostly scream NO DEPTH !! to me. Factotum was a little lacking in depth however it was a much better read than Women and some of the things that come from Bukowski's pen make for memorable quotes. One thing I did pick up on is that in one scene set in the 1940s, he gets arrested for drunken driving and is asked to "blow in the balloon" by the cops. What the hell ? When did American introduce breathalysing ? Anyone ? I would like to get this movie on DVD as I am a big Matt Dillon fan.

Next up. Notes of a Dirty Old Man. The title promises greatness. I hope it delivers.

You can read about Charles Bukowksi on Wikipedia here

Insomnia ; I can't get no sleep......

For the last few days both Leakhana and I have had really bad sleep patterns. We can't blame it on Grace as she hasn't been too bad. We haven't been going to bed too early, haven't been drinking and have been eating well. I feel like I am sleeping about an hour at a time at best.This morning we both woke up at about 3a.m and at 5a.m, I said to the wife " Bugger this....I am getting up and going to the riverside to take some photos". After showering and drinking a strong coffee, I headed out of The Compound and two things struck me immediately. Some arsehole shithead thief had used the cover of night and had stolen our second waste basket ( this one was a few weeks old ) and the villa next door was playing some radio show in Khmer at volume 10. I went over to tell the security guard to turn the damn radio down but...lucky sod....he was asleep. I cannot wait...one day I will catch one of those thieves and I will beat them into a pulp. The pettiness of it just shits me to tears. $3. Get your own fucking basket for christ sake.

So I headed off into the early morning...........yawning.

I keep forgetting what Phnom Penh is like at 5.30a.m. It is positively ALIVE with people setting up businesses, waste trucks prowling, dogs howling and all manner of human activity. The most obvious of activities is the exercising. People everywhere are stretching and power walking and high kicking and clapping and dancing. The riverside has these huge groups of mixed sex aerobic crews that jig away to the most awful music you have ever heard. People play shuttlecock,soccer,karate,ride bikes,fly kites and generally get the blood flowing.

I headed over to street 63 and got a coffee and now I am sitting here feeling like shit warmed up and wanting to be in bed with my two gorgeous girls. I hope they are sleeping.............

Deep in the bosom of the gentle night
Is when I search for the light
Pick up my pen and start to write
I struggle, fight dark forces
In the clear moon light
Without fear... insomnia
I can't get no sleep

I used to worry, thought I was goin' mad in a hurry
Gettin' stress, makin' excess mess in darkness
No electricity, something's all over me, greasy
Insomnia please release me and let me dream of Makin' mad love to my girl on the heath
Tearin' off tights with my teeth
But there's no release, no peace
I toss and turn without cease
Like a curse, open my eyes and rise like yeast
At least a couple of weeks
Since I last slept, kept takin' sleepers
But now I keep myself pepped
Deeper still, that night I write by candle light
I find insight, fundamental movement, uh
So when it's back this insomniac take an original tack
Keep the beast in my nature under ceaseless attack
I gets no sleep
I can't get no sleep
I can't get no sleep
I can't get no sleep

I need to sleep, although I get no sleep
I need to sleep, although I get no sleep

FAITHLESS ; INSOMNIA
( one of my favourite songs believe it or not......)

GRACE ; The Humpy Jumpy

We played a nasty "switch the candle" trick on "Mr Hump" when he went

to the lav. Ha ha he he ho ho......

Humphrey and Dai

Last week we went to dinner for my mate Humphrey’s 57^th birthday. The poor bugger got stuck in Thailand what with all the brouhaha going on in Bangkok and had to hump his humpy old hump back to Phnom Penh overland in a bus for 48 hours. With his lovely partner Dai and a bunch of friends in tow, Humphrey took us all to Khmer Sarawan near the riverfront and we enjoyed some cold beers and the best pizza in The Penh. Even little Grace was there and she had a surprise coming. God bless Humphrey. It was HIS birthday but HE was giving out the presents. After a discussion weeks ago about how we waned to get a baby bouncer for Grace – you know….those things that they sit/stand in and jump around like the man on the moon- Humphrey came through and presented Grace with what we have now called The Humpy Jumpy. I had to have a stand made for it by one of my contractors but a week later Grace was giving Neil Armstrong a run for his money.

Gracey, you are cleared for lift off....

Mussel Beer

I just love it when I come home and the wife says " Sweetheart, we are bbqing tonight." BBQs are a communal thing at TC so it usually means a few beers with the Jeff while the women cook ( trust me - I have tried to do it myself..they just won't let me !! ) , a few laughs, some music and the kids playing around. The only things you can't really forecast is WHAT you will eat or HOW MANY people are coming. For example, we had one the other night and Jeff got ribs while I got chicken. Normally it's the other way around and Jeff salivates and watches me eat my juicy ribs. Then, both of us almost simultaneously asked our wives " who else is coming? " when we saw how much food there was! Apparently, it was just us !

Something you can never underestimate here and which constantly amazes me, is how much food a diminutive 43kg Khmer wife can eat. Both Vatey and Leakhana eat like...well......brown bears. Unlike a bear ( or Jeff and I ),they eat very slowly and methodically over a looooooooong period but they can eat almost their own body weight- just like a bear. It is really something to see. I explained to Vatey the terms "You must have hollow legs" and "tapeworm" and she thought they was quite funny, but was unable to laugh as she was busy..yes....eating. At any rate, it is great seeing the girls eat so well and enjoy their food after all those years in Barangistan witnessing women diet and stress over every calorie. Plus they chug beer at the same time which is very sexy.

Caution; Bear at work.

Speaking of beer......Aliyah has discovered a new game called Mussel Dunk. This is where she proceeds to throw clams into her mum and dad's beer. I threw out a challenge to Vatey to drink hers and whilst she declined (smart), Jeff decided to give it a go(insane). This is impressive on two fronts ;One, after being harvested from the gritty depths of whatever waterway, these things spend all day being pushed around the markets on flat bed carts in direct sunshine with no ice under them. Two, Jeff had just come off a two day sickness. Outstanding work.

Jeff..there may not be any monkeys in your bar, but there are mussels in
your beer !

Aliyah ; Cambodia's newest Mussel Dunk superstar

Grace meanwhile...looked on amazed.

Grace; "You are all heathens.........."

The Full On Mick Jagger Motorcade

One of the other unique things about living in The Penh ( apart from Randy Rutting dogs and The Nightly Howling ) is The Daily Motorcade. There are ALOT of VERY important people living here ( just ask them, they'll tell you....) and sometimes those people need to get somewhere in a hurry. Like-home for dinner, out for breakfast, over to the mistress's house for a shag or to the loo.Given the state of the traffic in Phnom Penh and the ever present grid-lock, there is only one way a VIP can achieve this. The Daily Motorcade.

You know when they are going to happen because cops start blowing whistles and stopping people at lights and traffic comes to a (worse) standstill. They vary in extremity from one Toyota Forerunner with bodyguards at the vanguard ( all leaning out the windows waving walkie talkies and hands and driving like complete lunatics ) and a Lexus with driver and VIP at the rear to what I call The Full On Mick Jagger Motorcade©.These are real doozies and are quite impressive to watch. EVERY single side street and traffic light for about 2 km gets blocked by MPs and Traffic cops and everyone is waved out of the way with gusto. Except me of course, I just carry on up the street hugging the kerb saying ' Gon Laing twer gaa tee nih.." ( I work just here ! ).

NYPD's finest lead the way..

Then, like a scene out of "Who Shot JKF ?", the sirens start sounding and out of the distance rolls The Full On Mick Jagger Motorcade©.Usually a few white police motorbikes, some donated ex-NYPD black and white squad cars, a minivan or 6 and then a string of Peugeot 406s with flags waving, some Mercedes 500sl sedans, several Forerunners chock full of gun toting thugs. Whistles keep blowing, the masses watch on with interest and then there is usually a few Camry driving / scooter riding " I want to be a VIP" types who speed along in the wake of the TFOMJMC .

The Full On Mick Jagger Motorcade©

Unfortunately, no sign of old Mick"Snake Lips" Jagger, but good fun to watch nonetheless.

Mad Dogs and Englishmen

For the last week or so I have either woken up or gone to bed with the most horrible screeching / screaming going on out in the street. Definitely canine in origin, it has worried me alot because as a former dog owner and lover, I knew it had all the hallmarks of pain/suffering/torture etc. Our street has so many dogs roaming around in it that sometime it resembles a Cruft's Dog show- however you would need to replace Best Coat,Best Walk,Best Trained andBest in Breed with Droopiest Balls, Ugliest Face, Spazziest Legs and Most Inbred Mongrel. Ever seen what happens when a Rottweiler gets into a Chihuahua ? Happens here all the time.

One thing that still amazes me, and I have mentioned it before, is The Nightly Howling as I call it. At some point in the night every single dog ( numbering in the hundreds ) starts howling together. It only last a few minutes at most but it is really something to hear. If you were a western child under 14 here on holiday, it could leave you damaged and sleeping with the night light on forever.

This morning when I heard the murderous sound start up again, I just happened to be on my way out of The Compound for work so I readied myself to beat a dog owner into submission and show them that Buddhism really is alive and well - Karma and all that. As I opened the gate I was met with the most painful sight I have seen for at least...er......a day. You see, the sound was not emanating from the torture of some poor wretched mutt but rather Perfect Puppy Match gone wrong- yet again. Clearly one of the street's alpha males has been "taking advantage" of a smaller female on a repetitive basis and it cannot have been much..ahem...fun for her. Luckily, my Costa Rican Dog Training 101 skills( gained in the small village of Montezuma whilst backpacking in 1994 ) cut in and I was soon breaking up the lovelorn duo with a torrent of water from the hose. They will thank me later.

Sorry about the quality but it's not a good look taking photos of an amorous couple in the act so this was a hasty shot .

As I jumped on the scooter and headed off for work I counted no fewer than 3 other sets of locked up mutts within 100m of The Compound ! Wacky Wednesday or just the change in the weather ?

Oh.. and The Englishmen ? Just threw that in because it makes for a good title.

IKEA Schmikea

Ok.......for the guys out there this post is going to be a bit gay but I blog about everything in Cambodia as you all know so screw you ;-).

When Leakhana and I moved into The Compound, we spent about $3000 kitting it out with a bunch of furniture. My rationale for this was that as Cambodia is a fairly brutal place to live with heat and rain and few open spaces to relax that don't involve spending money, I have always maintained your crib needs to be your castle. Plus I intend on being here for at least 5 years...hence the flat screen television ! Anyhoooooow.............

One of the items we bought was a really nice wicker L-shaped lounge. Problem was, they fill the cushions with the leaves or flowers from the kapok tree and after a while a) They lose all shape and heep sliding off the base and b) They seem to be filled with some kind of mites that nip at you - true !. So now that I am on the Professional Couch Potato Team of Cambodia, we made the decision to get some new base cushions made and the whole thing recovered.

The Old

Original cost of couch and coffee table ; $ 430
Material for recovering ; $17
Labour and new foam ; $100

So for $547 we have a seriously comfortable sofa that would retail in IKEA back in Australia for $2000 ++. If we ever go back to Australia, it is coming with us !

The New ! Potato heaven.

Necklace nabbing and near-death experiences

Interesting night on Friday night. As Leakhana and I travelled down the river front at 8pm on the Airblade we witnessed a classic necklace nabbing. Right in front of us two freshy boys on a scooter swerved over to a tuk tuk and the guy on the back simply reached over and grabbed the female tourist's necklace straight off her neck. She had no idea what had happened and I followed the culprits down Sisowath yelling JOW JOW ( thief thief ) at the top of my voice but they were on a Viva 125cc so were gone in a flash.

After a few games of pool and a bit of a bop at river house, it was time to go home and as we cruised down the deserted southern end of Street 51 ( a long and badly lit main road that stretches north to south ) at a sedate 40kph we were lucky not to get snuffed out. At the intersection of street 300, some arsehole fuckwit dipshit motherfucker in a a Lexus 4wd ( I swear, Lexus is synonymous with WANKER in this country ) came blasting out of the side street at about 80kph just as we were about tohead into the intersection. In any normal country, this guy would ave to yeild / slow down etc. Not so here in Cambodia. The result was that I had to jam on both brakes HARD and the little scooters don't exactly have ABS so Leakhana and I hit the deck. The Lexus slowed briefly before speeding off and I ran over to find my wife was shaken and stirred but otherwise alright barring a small coin sized wound on the kneecap.

Me on the other hand..............

OUCH !!

And just in case you forget....this was the last wound I sustained last year on my dirtbike...



Welcome to biking in the 'bodge !

PS. Friday night there was a huge party next door with stadium speakers belting out hip hop so lud I actually went over and told them to turn it down. Then Saturday through Sunday we had a tent blocking our entire driveway with dingle dongle all day ( the people across the road having the 100 day wake ) and then sat arvo' some atrocious rock band over the back fence starting belting out something that resembled a catfight in a drum shop. Struth...

I gave thanks, watched Mumbai Burn and ate much mush

Last night I decided to head over to Lone Star Saloon with the family for my first ever Thanksgiving Dinner. I actually had to google first to find out what TG was all about. I had it in the back of my mind that it was a celebration of American land stealing and Indian slaughtering and being an Australian from English settler stock, I could not have supported this. However, as it turns out, it is a day of ..er.....thanks giving when those dudes with the funny hats ( the Pilgrims) actually sat down with the Indians and thanked them for showing them how to grow crops etc. That's what Wikipiedia says anyway ! I am sure there might have been the odd Pilgrim scalping or Indian bashing going on out the back behind the shed later that night but basically it was all about a good drink and a nosh so who can argue with that ?.

I had a couple of cold tinnies at home and waited for Leakhana to arrive home and when she did there were two surprises in stall for me - First, she was using the Baby Bjorn carrier and loved it and second she says "Sweetheart....I am starving, let's hit LS for TG and no....I don't need shower or make-up". Well...... roll me over and dip me in pig sheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeit. 10 minutes later we were in the Pilgrim Mobile combating Phnom Penh peak hour and we were soon pulling up at Lone Star. On arrival, we found Jeff ( almost asleep from overeating), Vattey, Darren and Stuart all knocking back beers along with a host of yanks and assorted partners. I ordered up two plates of Turkey Dinner and Grace settled onto her mothers lap for a good 'ol dose of TG boozie milk.

Whilst Leakhana,Vattey and Grace enjoyed the front terrace, the lads sat transfixed to the big screen and CNN's coverage of the Mumbai fiasco. As the beers flowed, we got so bored with the crap CNN coverage that the conversation got very silly indeed;

Stu; "What's that big round dome on top of the hotel ?"
Me; "That's a moozie bubble Stu"
Darren;" There are only 5 hostages inside..they should just nuke the whole fucking hotel and every moozie inside"
Jeff;" Geez I am sleepy..but I can't wait until Mossad arrives to deal with the moozies in the Jewish Centre""
All; "Fucking moozies !! Where are TEAM AMERICA, JACK BAUER,ANDERSON COOPER and BRUCE WILLIS when you need them"

"Our timing on this is lousy....we are missing thanksgiving dinner you know....."

"Jack,Anderson..I am already inside. I am hiding behind a photocopier on the 5th floor and there are moozies everywhere. Can you come get me....?

"Can do John...but let's get on thing straight - there is the right way, the wrong way, and the Jack Bauer way. My way is basically the right way but faster and with more deaths"

"I'm coming with you Jack. I have never killed a moozie but I have thought about it alot.Have you got a gun I can borrow ?......"

"I am sending my team over.There is one condition..after we have nuked these moozie bastards Anderson has to S**K MY D**k"

Stu; " Does this really mean the cricket isn't on ?"
Jeff:" I think Sean Penn and Angelina Jolie are flying in to sort the cricket out as we speak .."
Me; " I don't know who is worse - the fucking moozies or all those tooled up Indian commandos who can't sort the problem out"
Jeff; " ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ".

Stay the fuck where you are you idiot.

Due to the gravy and the turkey settling in the stomach like Khmer cement, we were soon all on our way home at 7.30pm ! for a few episodes of Monk and an early sack time.

Would I do it again ? you bet.

GRACE; A new dress and bath time with Vichea

Pink Burberry ? Don't tell the lads here.....She ain't no chav !

Grace is now out of onesies for daytime apparel and into this little number. I was chuffed to see her in a dress because now she looks like a little girl instead of a sprog in a jumpsuit !

And here are the two little mites before their bath.

Funny how it all works - here we have Aunty Phalla bathing her niece while Aunty Leakhana tends to her nephew !