Phnom Penh, Cambodia.
At first glance, a dusty disappointment. I book a ticket to leave the next morning and head off on my walk.
First stop, the outdoor market,
punctuated by stinking fish and dying hens,
legs bound together, heads hanging.
Time for a smoothie.
I spot a blender.
What are those fruits?
I sign for her to choose. She sticks her finger into the remnants of the last shake and nods in understanding. I'm concerned by the addition of carrots and lettuce to my fruit drink, but she proves to be a master mixologist. I move on.
Empty restaurants, travel agents, assaults from tuk-tuk drivers, "Where you going, what you need?" A park-$1 for foreigners, some monkeys, two boys dancing to distorted speakers, massage by the blind, a street barber. My feet ache, I return to my room.
Down the street is Dynasty Massage. There are five girls sitting in the waiting room when I enter. They giggle as they run to the back. My masseuse is cute. I'm wearing nothing but a sheet. She climbs onto the table and sits on me, doing my back first. I turn over. Calves, thighs, chest, no problem. Stomach, I panic and begin counting. Not working, I imagine a gory traffic accident. Last chance, that beheading I saw online. Damn it. Against my will I've achieved what some take little pills for. She pulls the sheet up a bit and continues the massage. I try to make conversation. She doesn't understand.
At the counter, the manager speaks a little English. The other girls are gathered around now. They're beautiful. I don't leave. Chea, Chen, Thavy, Danei, and Nit. They teach me Khmer words. I show them my pictures. They make me some tea, I make them laugh. They're in their twenties, from a small town, working here to make money to send back home. They sleep upstairs. They work six days a week from nine in the morning until midnight and rotate turns when anyone comes for a massage.
I sing 'Hotel California' for them. They clap, laugh, dance and sing Khmer songs. Later the boss, Agnchealy, comes with two friends. My heart starts pounding. In front of me is the most beautiful woman I've seen in a long time. Nean works at the boss's clothing store. I'm no longer funny. The girls make me sing again and then Nean sings a song. Before I can recover my personality, she leaves with the boss.
Five hours and four customers come and go. It's midnight and time to say goodbye. Before I leave, the manager pays the girls for the day, six thousand riel, about a dollar-fifty. Hugs are not customary between the sexes so I offer a handshake and a promise to visit on my return the following week. I like this town afterall.
