Phnom Penh Express by Johan Smits Read Free Book Online

door and salutes twice in rapid succession.
    His decision is made — a visit to Cambodia is nigh.

Chapter     SEVEN
    PHIRUN CONSIDERS ORDERING another of his favourite Leffe beers. That would make it his third since he entered the bar forty minutes ago. It’s a new place near work that he walked in at random, and when he saw his preferred beer listed on the blackboard, he didn’t have to think twice before sitting down at the counter. A voice in his head tells him to move on — there’s no chance he’ll meet a nice girl in this empty bar. But another wants to stay for the Leffe which he’s never seen here before. It may be the only local source and he should take advantage of that.
    For the first time since he moved to Cambodia six months ago, a sickly sweet rush of nostalgia overwhelms him. It must have been triggered by the taste of the cold Belgian ale, he reckons, and his thoughts wander back to Antwerp where he grew up. He didn’t have too much trouble meeting girls in bars there, but all his encounters with the opposite sex ended up in catastrophes. It was all too complicated. On the other hand, his limited experience with Cambodians girls so far hasn’t proved much better. Phnom Penh’s nightlife seems to be dominated by admittedly attractive twenty-somethings, but usually, when trying to strike up conversation with them, he plunges into immense boredom after about ten minutes. What the hell is wrong with me, anyway? he wonders self-indulgently.
    “Another Leffe please,” he asks the barman.
    Beer 3: Girls 0, Phirun thinks. Then his mind drifts back to his visits to the government officials three days ago, and the strange telephone calls the day after. He still can’t make sense of what happened.
    First there were the visits themselves, which could hardly be deemed a success. The government officials had accepted his chocolate gift boxes — not doing so would have been too confrontational — but Phirun had sensed that those bureaucrats weren’t impressed. He ought to have been more surprised that, in their bountiful generosity, they had even granted him any of their precious time in the first place, in between gambling and running their private businesses. They probably had expected him to pay his ‘facilitation money’, Phirun speculates. Or maybe they thought this Khmer from abroad might be well connected or rich. Or he might be both. How great their disappointment must have been when, after the initial exchange of respectful pleasantries, they realised that all he was bringing them was a pathetic box of chocolates. Such a thing could have been expected from a naïve
barang
, perhaps, but not from a Khmer, even one from abroad. Without exception, they had all insinuated that if he wanted to get the necessary paperwork and licences processed this decade, they expected something far more substantial than a box of stupid chocolates. One of them, the highest in ranking, had been so indignant that he even didn’t bother employing the usual euphemisms.
    “My Lexus doesn’t run on chocolates, sir,” had been his sarcastic response.
    Phirun addressed him with
‘Samdech’
, the Khmer equivalent of ‘His Excellency’, a conventional, respectful title for high-ranking officials. Sometimes, the more corrupt the official, the more respectful the title, Phirun thinks.
    “Yes, my Excellency. Of course, I understand, my Excellency,” he replied with a couple of
wais
, greeting in the customary way, pressing his palms together near his head and bowing while avoiding eye contact, both crucial signs of acknowledging the other’s superiority. He remembered observing similar behaviour on ‘Animal Planet’.
    To no avail, as five minutes later Phirun found himself out of the air-conditioned office and in the blasting heat of a busy Phnom Penh street. He wondered if his visit had not made the situation worse than it already was.
    Phirun takes a long draw from his new Leffe. He had returned home, worrying