I think I need to be careful here. There is much more to
Cambodia than I thought, and the Korean crew here are not shy about having a
good time when the mood takes them. I came here to save money and use the structure
of a set routine to get myself fit. One school night transgression this week is
bad enough, two is bordering on irresponsible.
Wednesday wasn’t as bad as I imagined it. I squeezed as much
sleep as I could in until 7.30, showered in record time then turned up for
breakfast at the canteen just before 8am. There were still people eating then,
and others joined after 8am, so I was in good company. They are more relaxed
than I expected. I was at my desk for just after 8, so no harm done. It seems that the Koreans actually work until
9pm most nights (with a break at 6pm for dinner). It’s not in their contracts,
but they do it out of some sense of duty. I guess it’s kind of expected. They
do bend these expectations on occasion, of course, none more so than on Tuesday
night. It could be argued that they see socialising with colleagues as work of
some kind anyway.
Shame it all went boobs vertical on Thursday night again...
I even get back to my apartment, having left at 6pm as usual
(I’m under no obligation to work until 9pm, thankfully), and am just about to
strip off to get ready for my evening swim – I am actually looking forward to
it – when my mobile phone rings. It’s Arthur.
“Hey, Chris. Come back to the canteen for dinner tonight. It’s
barbecue pork tonight!” he says enthusiastically.
I know what that means. In Abu Dhabi, one of the few
highlights had been the barbecue pork nights where they cook slices of pork at
the table, often having a few glasses of the Korean spirit called soju with it.
I guess it would be seen as rude to refuse, so stop getting undressed and go
back round the corner to the site. In the canteen the sounds and smells of
sizzling pork fill the air. I sit down with Arthur , DC and a couple of other
guys and get stuck in.
I had spotted the green bottles of soju in the fridge
before, and have already surmised that it would be cracked open once in a
while. My guess turns out to be correct, and they crack not one, but about six
bottles of the stuff open. They are impressed with my knowledge of how to hold
the little glass when having drink poured, and there are lots of “gumbays” and emptying of glasses. When
it’s like this, is it’s hard to know how much one is actually consuming. I lose
track of time, too, and soon start to feel the effects. DC is starting to look
a bit worse for wear again as well. The pork is a sideshow, to be honest, but
it is very tasty.
We finish drinking just after 8pm and I invite Arthur back
to my apartment to drink the beers I acquired the other night. He tells me he should stay in the office until
the PM leaves, probably at around 9pm. What the point is of sitting at one’s
desk is when you’re somewhat sozzled is beyond me, quite frankly, but I leave
him to get on with it. I roll back to my apartment, regretting my weakness and
cursing the soju. I hope I have the willpower to avoid another late night.
Arthur drops by as expected, just after 9pm, but as I only
have the four cans I was given the other night, we don’t compound our folly,
and are even more sensible when we decide that we should call it a night at
about 10.30pm after we put the world to rights and I show him some photos of
home on my laptop. Arthur actually has his wife and kids in Cambodia with him,
so I hope they are understanding about his regular late nights. I get to bed at
a reasonable hour, but still feel quite inebriated. Again.
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