chul muouy

sinanoukeville, cambodia

i would say that even the nights are better, but that's walking the razor's edge in proximity to a campy '80s song. i would say that the mornings are good until, but that may imply that what follows only serves to ruin something good already established. i would say that each day gets better, but you may think that means that each day is better than the preceding. what i want to say is that each day has a unique way of progressing. the mornings are good, the evenings are great, and the way this magic happens on consecutive days is more random and intangible than i could ever hope to articulate.

because we all like tangible examples, we'll say that it's two days ago. i'm on my way to fetch/return a book/journal/whatever from/to my room because reading/writing in a hammock or padded lounge chair mere feet away from the water sounds pleasant. you can put it down to take a swim in the warm water when you want to. you can have a beer or lemon shake if you feel like it. and you do. you do all of this because this is what we think feels good. and it does.

so, i'm returning or fetching something. let's call it some hour that passes for one pm around these parts. i take the stairs up from the water to my guest house and the staff is gathered around the stone table perched on the rock above our tiny slice of sandy eden. we only met the night before, but i'm still invited to have beers to celebrate the chinese new year. when i drink half of my beer, one of the fellas reaches into the case to pull out a second one. the little space in front of me soon has both the batter's box and two on-deck circles. my options are many, not limited to the token one beer of solidarity to the thanks-guys-i-gotta-run to the feigned-sip-and-really-nursing strategy. but it's the new year.

so i learn that the khmer equivalent of cheers is chul muouy and is initiated every two minutes. i learn that one of the receptionists would definitely be included on the bloopers segment of any american idol audition. i share one common drinking phrase from my own country which is soon amended to be, "to drink someone under the tuk tuk." throughout the afternoon, one or another of the guys would disappear for a half-hour to take some of the other guests to town, as needed. i was not counting the number of drinks these guys had nor did i give in to the western temptation to warn their passengers. the road was short, the vehicle cannot go too fast, but mostly i believe that if you're not even going to look at your driver when they're standing in front of you, there's a special clause to caveat emptor that goes into effect. i was mostly concerned about their quick return; we were having such a good time.

i did make my own exit at some hour that resembles five o'clock, again, around here. there was the switch from beer to water some time before that. i walked down to the beach, found a lounge chair, caught a sunset. i would include a picture of the beach, but i 1) haven't taken a single one and 2) believe that if you've seen a picture of one beach, you've seen 'em all. besides, looking at a picture of a beach is like looking at the rem reading of a dream. you get the picture, but you don't get the story.

i don't know the exact details of your january, but i have a pretty good idea. i'm sure vice versa. it would still be a shame to not tell you, or the public record, that one guy may have found what he's looking for, at least for this little while. because there's something about those sunsets. of course, the setting looks just like the photo you've all seen before. but the postcard doesn't have the warm wind gently blowing through. it doesn't have the sound of the gulf of thailand gently tapping on the shoulders of this little beachfront right over there. and it certainly can't handle the sun's transition from orange to red to that pinkish hue before ceding to night and the milky way's shiny jewelry drawer glowing up above. and it certainly does not smile like teeth are going out of style and speak with a cambodian accent. so in lieu of the photo, i'll just keep that up in my head. for here. for now. until then.