Prateek came to pick me up for a last Cambodian curry lunch and a last tour of Phnom Penh which included a visit to the mall to replace the socks that got lost in the free laundry at the 12 dollar a night hotel. This mall is the hotspot for Cambodian teenagers; they hang out, date, go roller skating and eat American fast food on top of a noisy six-story building. If you make it past the throbbing crowds of teenagers you actually have a very nice view of the city and its river.
To balance the new with the old we also visit the hill that has given the city its name, with its temples, shrines and statues and countless places that can hold bills, incense sticks and other offerings that keep this place and its visitors in good shape. There are monkeys on the hill that escape into the city and walk across the various cables that crisscross above the streets as if they are in the jungle. I have never seen urban monkeys. Only the tourists pay attention to them.
At the airport I buy one of the many books I now want to read about this country, a biography of the bad guy (Brother Number One) by David Chandler. I had not expected the variety of books about the dark period at the well-stocked airport bookstore. Many of them are first person stories but these are not what I am interested in. I select the biography because I am curious about the personal history and how it intersected with what was happening on the world scene. I read about one fifth of the book on the short hop to Bangkok.
Emirates is at the uninteresting concourse where I have a long wait, sans lounge access, seeing both AF and KLM depart long before my flight, going straight where I want to go. But first I have to go to Dubai, my 6th visit in 3 months. I am already tired, feeling sweaty and grimy as if at the end of various long transits but I have only just started my long journey home. I keep my fingers crossed for an empty flight – why would anyone want to go to Dubai in the middle of the night?
Sylvia's Journal 
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