An article I wrote for Khmer 440...
There was a documentary I saw about Spike Milligan
and the depression that had blighted much of his life. He’d been brought up in
India and moved to England when he was 15. It had a terrible effect on him. He
missed the colours and richness of India and had to readjust to stark, grey
Britain. The cold, the drabness, and the continual reminders of the exotic
world he’d left behind. And that’s how I felt much of the time back in Blighty
after spending 18 months in Cambodia.
“How can you live here now, after spending so much
time in Asia,” someone asked as I arrived. She was right. I had to return, for
better or worse, and sure enough four months later I was back in Phnom Penh.
Not the prettiest city in the world. But when you
wander down by the Riverside and take in the breeze and see all segments of
Cambodian life from mad-for-it grandmothers in pyjamas doing aerobics, to the
monks with their alms pots, to the old men in freshly-ironed shirts and
trousers squatting by their mopeds looking for the next ride, to the tuk tuk
driver with ‘Lexus 570’ scrawled on his backboard, to the moon-faced official
barely peering over the wheel of his supercharged Range Rover with its carte
blanche Khmer flag and VIP sticker in the window.
One of only two countries in the world with a
building on its flag, or so I was told by a slurring lawyer the other night.
Afghanistan, if you’re asking. And that must say something. A reminder of the
great empire that built Angkor Wat, and a hope that the good times might come
once again. Just like Greece. It’s this naive hope, the continued smiles and
bright outlook I love most. I escaped from the cold and the dreary faces of
those who have plenty, but grumble about everything. I fled from the obsession
with weather stories, and erosion of common sense and fun, to a country where
most people have nothing but look pleased to have it.
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