After a few days in the PP doing nothing but smoking ganja and wandering around, I noticed a posting to volunteer at the city dump. Now I’m not your traditional volunteer. In fact I had never volunteered before. But, I figured if this trip was to be a true adventure and growing experience, I better start doing things I wouldn’t ordinarily consider. I dialed the number on the paper and was told where to be and when. The man said, “Wear long pants and good shoes, and bring sun block. Be prepared for some shocking sights.” This sounds good, thought. I resumed my smoking and wandering for the next two days.
Wednesday rolled around and I was up and ready. Well, sort of up, and sort of ready. I had been staying up late for the last couple of days and I wasn’t exactly sharp that Wednesday morning. I donned my standard garb, much of it I’m wearing as I write this. Army pants rolled up just below the knee, Cambodia muscle shirt, and my favorite blue, white and red base ball hat. I also had on shoes, probably for the first time since leaving Canada. I left for the riverside where I was to meet the man organizing this tourist trip to the city landfill.
I arrived at the meeting place, a bar on the girlie bar street. One of the only bars on the street that wasn’t providing prostitutes with the beer. I donated a twenty to the pot of cash to buy food for the kids. I browsed through the pictures of previous trips that were on the computer while we waited for the rest of the volunteers to show up. Two or three couples showed up and a handful of older fellas who apparently made the trip regularly.
At some point during this procession of do-gooders, a shockingly attractive young woman walked in. At first glance she looked like she had some native American blood in her. Smooth features spread over a wide face, and eyes I could scarcely look into they were so sharp. Sharp like my grandmothers were, and beautiful like I’d never seen before. I felt like a dog instantly. I did everything in my power not to drool or creep her out with my hungry eyes. Right off the bat we were chatting easily at the bar as we waited to leave. My god. Hooked right there.
A big truck rolled to a stop outside and we all worked together filling it up with the stuff we would need at the dump. Umbrella, coolers, water, chairs, and a ladder. Next we all climbed into the truck and rolled off on our way to the fruit market. I quickly moved to a spot next to her and we leaned on the side rail and chatted for a bit. She had traveled a lot so I couldn’t impress her on that front. She held a couple degrees and spoke a handful of languages. Ha. Ok charm, do your thing. I was in awe and only succeeded in smiling like a fool.
We stopped for a minute and picked up a couple hundred baguettes. When we reached the market the men who knew the ways were bargaining for bananas, apples, and pineapples. I wandered around looking for ways I could be of help but mostly just staring at her.
Back in truck. Some people separated bananas while others took the wrapping off the apples. I was working the bananas. When we rolled up at the dump the people started running from every direction. Some kids chased the truck and my job was to stop them from grabbing onto the bumper and hurting themselves. The really funny thing is, if one did get hurt, the man who was trying to feed them all would definitely be paying the hospital bills, and any other bills lying around.
We roll up and unload the truck. The girls were instructed to stay in the truck until after the beasts had been fed. By that time a massive crowd had gathered and was milling around the back of the truck in a swarm. Myself and the other men got out and began lining the filthy creatures up into two lines. One for boys and one for girls. When the lines were loosely defined, we began handing out the food. An apple, two bananas, and a baguette to each pair of hungry hands. The pregnant women got a pineapple each as well.
The people who looked a little too clean to be bumming free food were removed from the line by the man in charge. He did it with such gusto and such ease, I can only compare it to a farmer tossing bales of hay. These folks tried every trick in the book to get back in line after they had already gotten their share. They would switch clothes, take off clothes, trade hats, or just give it another shot in the same dress. To be fair, most of the people were smiling. Cheerful bunch of child laborers at the Phnom Penh city dump.
When the food ran out we had some time to play with the kids. They were so sweet and eager. In no time they were crawling all over us, pulling our hair and insisting they get lifted up high in the air. This was about the time the man mentioned that most of em had lice. My beautiful friend and I checked a few of em, and sure enough, lice a plenty. After that their heads didn’t get too close to mine. I still picked them up, but held them out of my imagined lice hopping range.
I noticed that the other tourists weren’t picking the little dirtballs up or really playing with them at all. They only seemed interested in photography. Just me and her. She had such a way with the kids, almost like a kid herself. I would have done just about anything to stay with her there, playing with those wonderful kids. Who am I kidding though, I was getting hungry and they weren’t sharing any of the food I bought.
Back in the city we had a drink at the bar with some of the old guys. They didn’t interest me in the slightest, but she seemed capable of entertaining anyone who wanted to talk. Blessing or a curse? I’m hooked. She invited me up to her new apartment she had just rented with another friend. I hung out for a bit then headed off to the lake to get cleaned up. Not before we had agreed to meet for a drink on the lake later. At this point I’m thinking this is going too well and I’m not even trying. I practically skipped the whole way back to my four-dollar room.
When she showed up on the lakeside I nearly fell over. This chick cleans up. I mean she had me before but now I’m tripping on myself. Short hair pulled back in a pony tail, strait bangs always in the way, and dangly earrings. Oh my god. And she has on a kind of base ball jacket with prints of hound dogs all over it. So hilarious and so fucking sexy. She insisted that her hair was all wrong, and that the jacket was just a joke, but I couldn’t imagine anything looking better.
We sat down in a pub and her roommate and another friend joined us. I was off the booze at the time and struggled awkwardly through conversations with the new personalities. Despite my discomfort, one thing was becoming very clear. I was coming back to Phnom Penh.
