Simply tired

I ride my motorbike for another day. During the colonial era, the French created a summer resort in the coastal mountains nearby, similar to Bach Ma in Vietnam. The off-road track into the mountains to Bokor is said to be one of the most beautiful roads in Cambodia. I drive over 100 kilometres to get there. There is a sign next to the barrier: road closed to motorbikes. Not for cars. The guards are incorruptible.

On the way back, I get caught in a tropical downpour. No jacket can keep it out. I take another look at the weird nightlife and how all humanity dissolves inconspicuously. One guy gives his friend money so that his “hooker” doesn’t steal it after giving him a blow job. I go to bed and politely fend off the knocker shortly afterwards.

Back to Phnom Penh. I see almost nothing of the city, but I have about 40 emails to deal with. For the first time in a year of travelling the world as a web designer, I have the feeling that it’s impossible to combine the two. Chronically overtired, I sleep just four hours that night. I wake up before dawn with severe heartburn. Clearly too much stress.

I lift my hand a little too high when getting dressed. It stops the heavy steel ceiling fan very effectively. My fingers are still on it, even if it doesn’t feel like it. Luckily the blades were blunt, there are no cuts but a triple tear. Another thing to tick off the list.

A real boom-bomber bus takes us on a six-hour journey to Ankor Wat. Outside: abject poverty. There is hardly any meat here. The Cambodians eat spiders, grasshoppers and other six-legged creatures. Blind beggars, one-legged people and children come to stops in the mud. But it was cruel: it was a mistake to give a child something to eat. I almost suffocate in the mass attack that follows.

A C-Class Hong Kong Poker Eastern from 1995 is playing on TV, perfectly asynchronised with tinny Cambodian. Chakka. Boom. Bang. Turned up all the way. Sleep is out of the question. I allow myself the luxury of simply being annoyed beyond measure.