The compelling force of the cosmic empire struck me once again and hit me flat in my face one particular morning in Phnom Penh city. I woke up way too early and as usual, having nothing better to do, I wanted to unwind in the reception of the hostel by killing ogres and other dratted creatures in my all-time favorite shooter game. But my ambition wasn’t meant to happen. I tried a few times to turn on the game on my laptop but it always crashed. It just couldn’t start. So I ended up writing a few more poetry lines just to make the sands of time flow even faster through the lens of my own personal illusions.
Later on I took a stroll through good old Phnom Penh to see what was going on. The whole place was radiating with human activity of every sort. The markets were blooming, the tuk tuk taxis were making wild cuts through the traffic and the monks were on their way to some place only they knew. I was observing all these elements while drinking some local bootleg coca cola that was tasting like cheap bubble gum with a tint of actual coke.
Sometimes if you wake up at 6 am you can end up meeting this dude from Detroit at a street food place in the Cambodian capital while sipping your coffee. And that’s exactly what my timeline reserved for me on that casual sunny morning. I saw this motorbike like no other parked in front of this place and I couldn’t resist but stare obsessively at it. It was a damn piece of art. It had a nice metallic shade of blue and tiny metal skulls on both the handles. It was simply mesmerizing to look at it. It made me miss my own ride back in Hanoi.
It didn’t take me long to figure out that the motorbike belonged to the only guy sitting in that joint enjoying a cup of coffee. He noticed me long before I acknowledged his existence. We smiled at each other and I went inside to sit next to him. He was in a friendly talking mood and I took advantage of that to find out the guy’s story. He was originally from Detroit and spent some years in Vietnam before eventually sticking to Cambodia.
It turned out that this dude was a local legend. He played saxophone, flute and trumpet. He secured his existence in that part of the world by having jazzy and funky gigs all around the place. Besides his gig stories, he told me how some monkeys had recently trashed his apartment simply because he left his balcony open. We talked about Vietnam and motorbikes and random adventures in the jungles, tropical rains and the appalling south east Asian traffic. We both nearly died squashed by trucks on our motorbikes and we both had bad experiences with monkeys. Those things were good enough to get us going and even to connect on Facebook.
I was curious enough to visit the infamous Pol Pot prison in Phnom Penh and I asked him about it.
“I didn’t visit that prison here.” He said. “I just don’t wanna see that vibe, man. I come from Detroit city and it’s the same thing there. Those people shoot each other in the open street. I’ve seen that gloom already. I don’t need any more of that.”
“Ok. It makes sense. Tell me more about Vietnam. I don’t see here as much police as there.”
“Yeah, man. Here it’s easy. They just wanna get that money. That’s all there is. They caught me once and I had only a bit of money with me. I showed it to them and they just took it and let me go. Straight and fast. Vietnam is a different animal, man. Eventually you end up doing the same thing but they ask you tones of questions and they’re just more weird.”
I recalled that one time when by accident I ended up on some Vietnamese freeway and those dudes in bright uniforms were right there in the intersection. We couldn’t really understand each other and this police officer was just rambling about some bullshit. Eventually I gave him 20 bucks and it was all good. We both laughed at this little foible.
So the guy eventually went back to finish his coffee and started working on some personal project he was busy with on his tablet. We bid farewell but I didn’t leave right away. I just kept staring a bit more at his humungous 250cc motorbike. Eventually I resumed my own wanderings with no direction through the charming streets of Phnom Penh where the food smells were constantly mixing with motorbikes’ fumes and sometimes even with some ladies’ interesting perfumes.
I ended up back at the hostel right at the time when the heat wave started to get momentum. I had some tom yum soup and a Pina Colada at the restaurant upstairs. I admired the view of the Mekong river and soon enough I wanted to doze off again in the air conditioning. Eventually I went to see the Pol Pot prison that day.