slacking is hard work

sit with my laptop in a pathetic jail cell of a room with the buzz of a thousand street sellers below. But while im not technically working, a lot does get done in a day. woken by alarm at 730, just enough time to guzzle the all u can eat dollar breakfast, find out im an hour too late for the boat, but catch a bus to the town of battambang 4 hours away, stroll around in the heat of the day, hiding behind cheap imitation ray-bans, but wishing I had a ten gallon hat to give me some proper shade.

while i drink some juice right out of a large green coconut, its top macheted off, i ponder whos responsible for the ridge in the neck of a bendy straw that allows you to point it in your direction instead of craning your neck. sure, if i had wifi, i might have looked it up on wikipedia and known the answer to this pressing question in a moment. might possibly suffering from a little heat exhaustion or dementia.

attempts at conversations with a couple of monks, who obviously believe in keeping their skin soft and beautiful, they sport umbrellas color coordinated with their simple orange frocks.

Signed up for a cooking class tomorrow at a place called smokin’ pot. Cute right? pol-pot was the first thing that came to mind before I got the more obvious reference. I don’t believe we will be preparing any dishes with "special" ingredients, but we will visit the market and purchase all materials required, and eat what we make. "happy" shakes, brownies and ommeletes are available, for those who rather consume their cannabis rather than smoke it.

lunch at a café that must be in the guide books, its tables constantly taken by foreigners. Food was good, cheap no inedible gross bones or necks or feet. their big draw is certainly the shake bar. At least 30 types offered including every mix of tropical fruit, the dreaded and foul smelling durian or black coffee with milk. 75 cents.

exhaustion sets in as the sun sets even though its only 630 pm. a shower restores enough energy to get me back out the door for a bit of dinner. its also something of a minor celebration since ive changed the outfit ive been wearing for at least 3 days, possibly longer. im out of clean clothes, so hand-wash is in order, but my room doesn’t even have a sink, just a floor level cement basin by the toilet with a plastic pan, used to flush manually every time you use the loo. Not something u want to put my clothes in, and then actually drape them on your body.