The holiday entry!
Axe pillows and hippies and beach bungalows and self-flush toilets squat beside all of these resorts. One had four elephant statues pouring water into a swimming pool with trunks arced to the sky. I could probably afford a night or two in one. Instead, I found myself in the Sunflower Bungalows, Koh Chang.
Cambodia was a feast for the eyes and ears and nose and right down to the fingertips. Those monks in dutch orange robes walking narrow like maybe the robes were a little too tight round the waist and hips.
The most vast temple complex on the planet. Seen from hot air, high up.
Garbage cart ladies swaddled in scraps and sounding off their little red duck-trumpets ahead of their passing.
People just hanging out, everywhere. Sat on old Coca Cola plastic picnic seats yb the road or in the dust or the rubble.
Circles of guys playing hackey-sack. Tighter circles, cards.
Football on the box in the guesthouse, on repeat.
Cambo six and Chippie's winning bet...Cambo Six and Chippie's losing bet. Streak wasn't too long.
Coffee in a can with far too much bad sweetness. Tea-tree tooth picks and mints in a tin like olden days.
Tukduk transport and diesel folds in the cities, the Phnom Penh bounce.
Tiger balm on bites.
Chippie, prepared...toilet and kitchen roll and zip lock bas, penknife and ideas and stories. SO many playboys and cut-throats he met in Peru.
A stare broke into a smile as easily as any other way.
'We're vacationing in the slums!'
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