My family oriented, vegetarian, Cambodian Gangsta!

June 23rd, 2009

Realizing it had been about 8 hours since we'd eaten we decided food was the next stop. looking for places I noticed a joint that looked a bit swanky and was just flooded (at the entrance) with young Cambodian men. And there was a fountain, rock mountain thing that looked appealing. As we were heading in there was a three bike moto collision . . . oh the perils of being such an attraction!

Entering the place it looked rather nice and the prices for some of the meals were reasonable. We sat down and a good-looking, well dressed man smiled at me - I smiled back - a decision that changed the course of our evening.

Moments later Serene pointed them out as gangsters. Moments after that we noticed the rats running under the tables and through the crevices in the fake mountain.

Moments after that we both ordered frog and fried rice. A night to remember had begun!

Managing to prop our legs on the table rungs and under our selves we solved the problem of rats running over our feet as we ate (and I created the future problem of full leg numbness) although throughout the evening the site of the kitten sized monsters still greatly alarmed and startles us and cuased me to randomly break out in nervous semi-disbelieving laughter that I was staying and about to eat in a place where rats had free reign. I know of people back home who won't even go to an establishment if they've heard they had mice.

We video logged to document the occasion and even caught a rat in transit. At least they looked less mangy than the ones I've seen at home. Fluffy and plump, and healthy . . . yeah.

Eating the meal I was pleasantly delighted to discover that from meat is very tasty and tender, although quite difficult to get off the bones. Kinda requires tongue acrobatics in one's mouth. Not the most ladylike endeavour and certainly not something that one takes great joy in doing in front of an audience and I had an audience . . .

Everytime I even glanced in his direction the goodlooking gansta had his eyes on me, smiling, trying to catch my eye. He succeeded a few times and Serene said I was 'making eyes' at him although I believe I was just trying to look away again without scowling.

As time went on and I did my best to avoid his glances I could see out of my perpheral vision him making large hearts and directing them at me. That did it - I couldn't help laughing.

Moments after that another man came in, talked to dude for a bit, while all the guys were looking over at me and then came over and told me his friend wanted me to sit with him. The translator.

After some convincing we agreed to go over once Serene had finished her meal.

And now for the real fun to begin! Gangsta man left the table (primping we believe) and we went over. Wehn he came back the guy seemed all in a fluster. Nervous, making signs that his heart was palpitating and called the translator (who we later found out was his little brother) to sit between us and help.

Around this time we noticed the black rose tatooed on his hand - more evidence for Serene's theory.

Translator told us their names, that gangsta worked selling moto bikes (with some body language from gangsta to help) and about an hour of verbal and body language translating had begun.

However, oddly, dude would hardly ever look at or talk to me and used Serene to try to get me to understand things. So much so that his brother got confused and thought Serene was the one he wanted - to which he very elaborately protested, sending more hearts my way.

They had already gone through quite a large canister of beer and ordered another one. I thought the guy was drunk but he wand Serene made assertions to the contrary.

The hilarity continued as Serene got up to capture this moment, leaping from stool to couch in order to not touch the garbage, beer, and rat infested floor with her bare feet, one stool went flying - taking Serene with it - legs in the air and all!!

But bless her soul, she protected my camera, if not her dignity and alarmed probably all the Cambodians in the place as they looked with alarmed and concerned faces.

The guys wanted my number, gave me gangsta's and tried to get me to agree to call him. I tried to point out that even if I had a phone it wouldn't work because we couldn't understand each other. They were very persistant.

They were also persistant about trying to get me to understand that gangsta loved me and wanted to know if I loved him.

Of course I responded no - tried to explain that he was a stranger, I didn't know him - they both looked very confused and very let down. (Serene reminded me later of the way Asians use 'love' how we use 'like' so poor guy probably thought I didn't even enjoy his company).

At one point we tried to ask the waiter if these were bad men and should we leave. This had to be done through mime, mouthing, and glances - his returned glances seemed to tell us to get out of there . . . which we did after obligatorily finishing at least half of the drinks they'd poured. Oh - and did I mention . . . my Gangsta, who also left our company for awhile to take a call from his father only ate vegetables?