English Man Last Seen......

 

  

ENGLISHMAN LAST SEEN…..Disappearing into a grey mud trench in Siem Reap.

People pay loads of money for a mud pack, or a mud bath. I got one free, and I didn't even have to take my clothes, or shoes, off.

 

Siem Reap has gone from a quiet haven to a war zone hell. With the gross upheaval of torn up and impassable roads and now non-existent pathways, it wasn't going to be long before someone fell into one of the 'road works'.

 

The gods chose me to be that someone.

 

This morning, I was bemoaning my fate and berating the gods about my mind still being full of my ex partner's betrayal, the gods obviously listened.

 

The extremely noisy refurbishment, occurring in the adjacent apartment, drove me out of mine. I trudged to the bank to withdraw rent money, then headed back.

 

On my return, I was trying to navigate a blocked road, wanting to get through to the supermarket. It was midday hot. I was sweating and desperate to get back to my temporary accommodation. The alternative to trying to get through the road blockage, was another lengthy walk in the dire heat, which would have been too much for my tired, hot, ageing body..

 

There was a vague path through the hillocks of, what seemed to be, dried mud. Dried it was, on the surface. I played frog, leaping from concrete to concrete to mud.

 

It was then that I found that the mud was only dry on the surface and, like an unfaithful maiden's promises of fidelity, it was superficial.

 

I slipped, nay plunged, into the awaiting mud, which appeared to take a fancy to my only pair of shoes. I couldn't let that happen, so the mud and I fought for possession. I wasn't winning.

 

I saw a figure looking down at me from an upstairs window. I unashamedly called for help. I waved. She moved. The kind Khmer woman came and lent me her arm. With her assistance I battled the mud demon and reclaimed my shoes.

 

My saviour grabbed a hosepipe and, with that, I sluiced myself down, the now cowardly mud racing back to its kin in the trench. I was soaked but relatively okay,  except for my pride which needed intensive care.

 

A thoughtful tuk tuk driver pulled up. I gave him my address. As we stopped, the driver proudly presented me with a bill of one and a half times the normal fare.

 

It was true. All thoughts of my betrayal by my former partner had vanished as soon as I had something else to worry about. I thanked the gods as I showered, threw my clothes in the washing machine then listened to that improvising jazz drummer practicing in the adjacent apartment.