Into the heart of darkness

So, here we are. Again. Phew.

 I seriously wonder, will I ever be able to properly explain myself in this climate? Do you know these hot towels they offer you on long distance flights? Small, steaming hot, damp pieces of cloth? This is what the air around here feels on a cool night. During the day the humidity and temperature get to a point where you want to hit the sauna to cool off for a bit. Acts like changing your clothes or showering become completely symbolic, meaning that you remain a smelly, sticky, dripping swamp thing no matter what you do.
Ooops. I wasn't going to complain again.
My good old friend and partner in crime Mr.Roadrancher found my first entry a bit whiny, so I shall try my best to put a positive spin on things for y'all from here on.

Our residence is located off the tourist center where the white man roams. We live in a small room above a restaurant, opposite to a market for agricultural goods. The really good news is that we have a decent toilet to ourselves, even though it took me a while to realize that the little hose hooked up to the side of the loo is in fact the substitute for toilet paper. Paper to wipe ones behind is an absurd concept to the locals, good for a laugh but not to be taken seriously. Even though our room is rather small - just enough room for a bed and a closet - the place comes with a generous colonial style terrace, from where you can watch the 24 hour madness down below. And madness it is. On our first day it took us about 15 minutes to cross a 4 lane street, and it wasn't even rush hour yet. You sincerely would not believe what passes for traffic around here. Really, you have no fucking idea. Yes, I know I tend to exaggerate a bit every now and then, but in this case I can't even begin to ballpark the situation. There simply are no rules whatsoever. People can't even decide on the side of the street they're driving on, and traffic lights are just decoration. On the plus side it makes for a lot of excitement and quite a few of near death experiences.
Cheery enough for you, Mr. Roadrancher?

Selah.

Anchor Beer is both delicious and affordable at 55 US cents a can, which is about 2200 Riel, the local play money. There's of course the usual bunch of merchants, tour guides and beggars trying to make a buck off of the tourists, but since I took to grabbing them by the shoulders and singing arias in Italian to them they have become wary of the smiling white man with the many earrings. Their Asian ways forbid them to push me away, so they just tend to stand there in my stinking embrace and smile uneasily, until I allow them to slink away.

 So, here we are. Again. Will I ever be able to properly explain myself in this climate? Will I ever  feel clean, or even dry again? Will I ever pass solid stool again? Find out in our next exciting episode of Fear & Loathing in Cambodia!

 "Days. What are days for? To wake us up. To put between the endless night." - Laurie Anderson.