Sihannoukville Beach Urchins
Saturday Morning! Why didn’t I think of that before! It’s the best and most reliable way to have fast internet. When the douche-bags are asleep nursing hangovers, I’m in the hole, nursing the fast internet! … fuck that sounded geeky.
Do I get anymore cool points that I got my second electrocution from Cambodian Computers (CC’s) from the keyboard on this beast? But I digress before I’ve even hit my topic.
I forgot to mention yesterday, the onslaught of the beach kids. It’s worthy of its own post – I don’t mind telling you – my screaming fans.
There are 4 distinct kinds of beach kid. I’ll list them down with examples;
1) The Whinger: They look at you with wimpy eyes and try to sell you some luke warm seafood, slippery mango or scarf. They’re NO FIST and don’t deserve more of a mention.
2) The Go-Getter-Girls: These girls are savvy and little scrappy go getters. They’ll sidle up to you and get all squirmy and ask you where you’re from, then say “G’day Mate!”, “The Dingo’s Got My Baby!” and other culturally bizarre things. (I’m not making that up, most of them thing “The dingo’s got my baby” is a perfectly ok thing to yell at Aussie tourists…) and they most often than not get the sale.
3) The Argy-Bargy-Brats: Aka, “The Ear Flickers”. One kid announced his presence to me yesterday, by simply walking past me, flicking the back of my ear as hard as he could, and kept walking like nothing happened. I swing around and am like “What the fuck?!” as you can imagine, and await his return…
Sure enough, he returns but you gotta wakeup pretty early in the morning to double flick my fucking ears, so I’m ready for him. He then propps himself up against my shoulder, slaps the bag he’s holding with some scarf in it, and proceeds to tell me I’m going to buy it.
When I surely tell him to bugger off, he grabs my friendship band and tells me it’s mine. I do the same with his hat. Stalemate. He backs down. NO FIST!
The day winds on, and after a few LUCKY shots, and some sore ears, he stops again and starts just fucking with me. Flicking my ears and the like, at this point I’m ready and I attack him with some knuckles to his ribs and he knows I’m a worthy opponent, laying dormant, waiting for him to up the ante.
He grabs a pen handy, and starts writing, slowly, with this “I’ve got your number pal” look slapped all over his Chevvy Chase, F-U-C-K… He pauses, smirking Y-O-U.
I’m like “What is this bullshit?!” so he proceeds to write something equally obscene on his hand, in Khmer this time. Then he tells me I gotta buy his scarf. I attack him he backs off a little.
I have my regular go-getter-girl who’s a gem, working on a bracelet. She’s requiring me to hold two bits of string to complete her bracelet and the kid, wasting no time, realising I’m defenseless, attacks my ears with a double flick attack and he gets away clean. Damn.. I’ll get him next time.
I see this wiry, scruffy looking kid out of my periphery and without further adoo, I attack him with knuckles to the ribs and pushing and general tickling when I realise, I’m attacking the wrong kid. He’s another Argy-Bargy-Brat who must think he’s just had a pre-emptive strike. He says “You remember me?” and I tell him “I remember your friend!” immediately lumping all the brats into one gang. I won the battle, but we’ve still got two more days here and I think this kid will unleash some shit on me today… Will keep posted.
Now, moving onto fou-fou-fou– *scratch* FOUR! (Run-DMC, you be illin’ reference for you Mums)
4) The Raging, Screaming Queens: This really only encompasses one queen, but he was so much fag, packed into one small package, he warrants an entire section to himself.
He prances up to Rose, camper than a row of pink tents, hugging her legs asking if she wants a pedicure. Rose has already promised another woman to get her pedicure, and he tells her “Don’t worry darling. Don’t worry about these greedy little peasants. She can do your fingers, don’t worry about all that!” I was pissing my pants at this point, with this dude calling the other lady a peasant.
So, this raging Clearyesque motherfucker is up Roses leg like a rat up a drainpipe and he’s got the job, with pumice extras and has extorted Rose of $8! At this point I loudly debate the fact that he’s charging $8 to paint flowers on my girlfriend’s toes and he then protests at me, in ultra camp fashion calling out “Oh Okay honey! I do it for free, if you come back to my place after yes?” We just paid $8.
After Rose, he grabs my toes and demands to do mine at which point I’m crawling into fetal position and screaming AH TAY!!! (def. NOT!) while he pulls at my leg hair, wanting to shave me.
Right, that’s about all I have to say about beach urchins so far. I’ll try to get some pictures today of these little bastards and legends. In the meantime, peace!
LMS. Safe travels into Viet.
xxpapa