A lot has been made of so-called Asian Fusion cuisine. Auditors pull out the corporate AMEX to splurge on dishes that the guys on the corner in China can whip up for 20RMB. Some, especially in NYC, even make artful discussion out of relationships between Whites and Asians, another type of Asian Fusion. 

On my trip, a lot has been made of toilets and using the bathroom. But no matter my clever commentary, I have fallen short because I’ve yet to fuse the east and west…until now. Look no further.

The No. 9 sister guesthouse, my current accommodation here in Phnom Penh, Cambodia, has given me that chance. So, today (8/26/06), I’m proud to introduce the most recent Asian Fusion - skybombing. That is, squatting eastern style on western toilets with no seat. Got a visual on that? Hi Mom. Make ya proud?

Everyone was awake by 1000 for our first full day in PP. We decided to go shooting. We each secured a moto driver for $5 and set off. We headed southwest, outside PP city limits, about 15km from our GH. he city was bustling with traffic that, to an outsider, would appear disorderly and chaotic. But to the residents of PP, the chaos is controlled and everyone moves to a common rhythm. As we made our way to the outskirts of the city, the decline in the number of people mirrored the quality of roads. At one point, a complete section of the road was missing. We had to get off the moto and walk across wooden planks. Our driver had to do the same (with the bike). And they charged a tool at the other side. After 30 minutes or so of driving, we turned right on a dirt road, marked only by the towering blue sign with white lettering that is common in the country. It read: “Cambodian People’s Party”. Another 300m and we truned left into a 5 foot wide rusted, metal door that was swung open. Awaiting us was a menu (literally) of shooting options. “Welcome to the Happy Club Shooting Range”, it read in rainbow colored letters, likely designed using Wordart. Like the sex menus in Bangkok to a Hustler subscriber, this could satisfy the fetish of any Guns & Ammo reader. AK-47s, RPDs, Rocket Launcher, Antiaircraft, Hand Grenades, and at the bottom, “cold drinks”, everything with a corresponding price. One guy attend to us while another cleaned the inventory, each piece mounted on a brick wall. I’d shot all the others back in Price Hill, so I chose the AK, as did the others. We put on camouflage jackets, mine with a patch of the Cambodian flag on the right sleeve, the perfect contrast to the stripes on my Brooks Brother button up that I used to perform audits of Fortune 500 companies in. We entered the dark range, equipped with headphones to protect our ears from the thunder that would be unleashed from each squeeze of the trigger. The target was set and we were asked who wanted to go first. “I will”, I volunteered. I was pumped to be shooting an AK. The barrel was positioned on a wishbone rest. I hugged the butt between my shoulder and chest, supporting the barrel with my left hand and ready to scratch the trigger with my right. BAP! The loudness of the first shot surprised me, us all. Even with protection, my ears felt pierced. BAP!….BAP!…I was at ease, so I squeezed, held….but it only let out one shot…because it wasn’t set to “automatic”. A couple more solo rounds and the guy switched the setting I set my sights and sprayed away. I’ve got video for ya! David and Sam took their turns and the target was retrieved. Had that been Laden, we’d have been heroes, I imagine. We took our photos, paid our dues ($30/person), and were off. We told our drivers that we’d also like to see The Killing Fields (Choeng Ek)today. They said it’d be best to go shooting first, since it was farther out, and then we could work our way back to the city. But I believe the real reason we started out shooting was because they knew well that if we saw the ‘fields’ first, we’d be in no mood to engage in any such activity. And they get paid commission off of the ranges, so…Why do I believe this? Well, less than 2km from where we shot AKs, lie The Killing Fields. As I’m sure you can imagine, I was shocked - adrenaline still pumping through my veins when we stopped 5 minutes away and they said, “we’re her”. “We are?”, I thought? What a contrast of emotions. What irony. We toured the fields. I took photos for you to see. We continued to the Toul Sleng Prison, Museum of Genocide. I can’t really write much on this because I’m not one for those type of pieces. We returned to the GH after an intense morning. Went for some food and generally relaxed the rest of the day, going out for dinner where I had a two beefburgers and two orders of fries. To think I was a vegetarian for 5 years. Washed them down with cold jugs of Anchor beer and watched the Liverpool v. West Ham futbol match. I was pretty well full and slept soon after returning from dinner.

We woke at 0630. Our bus for Phnom Penh was scheduled to leave at 0730. We gathered our belongings and made our way to the hotel lobby. As far as transportation is concerned, I had no (read: low) expectations. I’d heard the road to PP was relatively nice, so a mini-bus or bus would suffice, I gathered.

We were picked up by a mini-van around 0715. David was at the market prices on buns (the sort where yeast is a good thing) for breakfast, so we waited few minutes for him to return before setting out. After jumping a couple of blocks to the bus terminal (I use the term terminal loosely, because in these parts there is no official terminal. It’s more like a market and a bus on the corner. Think Chinatown buses in NYC then multiply by a gulliness factor equal to pi).

We jumped on (seat 26). The guy asked me (read: told me) to keep my bag with me because it was small. But it was too big to fit in the overhead compartment or under my seat, so I was forced to turn it into a foot rest. 90%+ of the passengers were Cambodians, so we were treated, on the first leg of the trip, to Khmer-style soft porn/horror flicks, and on the second leg, to Khmer-oke. I tried to zone out the man-made entertainment and enjoy the sights provided by my window seat, but the glowing sun proved too much, leaving me as blurry eyed as the TV left me terrified. I pulled the yellow curtains shut and for a good part of the 6 hour journey, waking for the WC breaks for a stretch and to catch a glimpse of the ton we’d entered.

We’d heard stories from other travellers about arriving by bus in PP. Armed guards, they said, would escort us off the bus, allow us to gather our packs and set us off into the chaos of Cambodia’s capital. We’d be bombarded by beggar’s, young and old, pickpockets, and the ever-dreaded tuk tuk drivers, all (literally) pulling us in different directions. Well, outside the terminal (read: market) there were armed guards, but they didn’t escort us anywhere. And there were beggars, but not hoards of them, and certainly not as bad as those in Siem Reap. And of course the drivers were there, covering the front and back of the bus, boxing us in and forcing us to pass them when exiting. We found a TT for $2 and were driven to the No. 9 sister guesthouse. We took the first room they showed us - 3 beds (mosquito nets included), private bathroom, but no toilet seat, all for $5/night.

The GH was quite nice, actually. It sits Boeng Kak Lake, so when you walk to the back, either side lined with exotic greenery in front of each room, there is a bar, pool table, hammocks, couches, and TV/DVD, all lakeside and facing west so guests can catch the sunset. The community itself is one geared toward budget travellers - self-contained, offering travel products, accommodation, food, clothing, entertainment, etc. It’s quite nice, comfortable, but I can’t help but think the real goal is to break out of the tourist bubble we’re so often guided into (or do we put ourselves into?). Otherwise, what’s the point? Siem Reap, for example, is a bubble itself, with even the locals living a life of confinement. A marriage, functional, but maybe not happy, of the USD and the lives of its residents.

The real goal: Go Deep. Be a local. Unfortunately, I don’t always achieve this. Anyway, burst that thought bubble. Moving on. We took a stroll to survey the community and find something to eat. We stumbled upon a slick, peanut butter filled mouth, talking South Indian who boasted his restaurant was the only in the area with a real Indian chef. It was $2, all you can eat, so we headed back to his place after exploring the bit. The food was good, save the nan, which was too thin, crispy. We headed back to the GH, bellies full, kind of like than one of those old aunties with her gut hangin’ out the side of her sari. Full of carbs, I fell asleep. When I woke, it was dinner time, so we headed to The Flying Elephant. After pizza and some beers, we headed home for an early rest.

The guys woke a little after 1000AM, myself around 0830AM. I used the time to update my journal, which I am caught up on, except for the events from the night preceding our departure from Bangkok. Once everyone was ready to tackle Battambang, we headed into the scorching sun, red-necked, legs, armed, etc. and in some pain good enough to teach us not to sit on the top of a boat for eight hours without wearing sunscreen.  We strolled around town, across the river, back, and to the town market where I bought a bar of soap. Despite clearly being labelled, I didn’t realize that “Whitening soap” was meant to make your skin white. I reckon the woman at the store was thinking, ‘why’s this white guy buying whitening soap?’ Titanium dioxide aside, I think it should be okay.   We settled at Sunrise Coffee House nearby the hotel. We ate, used the Internet and headed to the room for TV, sleep, and relaxation. Back to White Rose in the evening for dinner and smoothies. Another early rest. 

The guys woke a little after 1000AM, myself around 0830AM. I used the time to update my journal, which I am caught up on, except for the events from the night preceding our departure from Bangkok. Once everyone was ready to tackle Battambang, we headed into the scorching sun, red-necked, legs, armed, etc. and in some pain good enough to teach us not to sit on the top of a boat for eight hours without wearing sunscreen.

We strolled around town, across the river, back, and to the town market where I bought a bar of soap. Despite clearly being labelled, I didn’t realize that “Whitening soap” was meant to make your skin white. I reckon the woman at the store was thinking, ‘why’s this white guy buying whitening soap?’ Titanium dioxide aside, I think it should be okay. 

We settled at Sunrise Coffee House nearby the hotel. We ate, used the internet and headed to the room for TV, sleep, and relaxation. Back to White Rose in the evening for dinner and smoothies. Another early rest.