We were waddling slowly through Phnom Phen after a Cambodian BBQ where we devoured squid, beef, fried rice, fermented fish sauce (mmmmm fermented) and countless numbers of Anchors (beers, not ship weights). The bill had come to $19 US and we tipped $5 (the waiter thought we had overpaid and went to give us the extra five back, when he realised it was a tip he almost fainted with happiness; I would have paid $50 just to see that smile on his face).
We headed further out of the city to visit 'Naga World' which is a tackier version of Crown Casino but still kicks Crown's butt (because you can smoke at the tables and the beer is free. Yes, smoke at the tables and beer is free:Where 'free' equals the amount of money you lost at the table, i.e, we had 12 beers for the 'free' price of $100 US.).
As we were crossing a main road, a short Cambodian guy (aged 20-30ish) ran up to us, I was expecting one of two things. 1. He was going to pull a knife on us and take all our money or 2. He was going to pull out an amputated limb ask for money. What I didn't expect was a panicked American accent asking 'Excuse me, do you know where all the Americans are?'
Immediately taken back by this (I didn't even know where my hotel was let alone where the Americans were), my waddling companions and I didn't register what he meant. We stuttered back 'what you want the US Embassy?', ýou want an American club? He look disturbed when we couldn't help him, his eyes darting left and right like a hunted rabbit. As quickly as he had appeared in front of us, he dissapeared.
After he had evaporated into thin air (actually it was moto-exhaust thick muggy air) I finally understood his predicament.
About 30 years ago, when Cambodia was in a bad state of affairs, this gentlemen's parents had been granted refugee status in the US of A. They had travelled by boat to chase the American Dream, set up small business, worked in low paying jobs and at one stage, given birth to the aforementioned Cambodian Guy. He had gone to American schools, spoke English not Khmer, joined an LA Gang, thrown up gang signs and sold narcotics on the corner block. Life was good (cue Ice Cube 'Today was a good day')
Unfortunately, one day the corner spot was raided by five-oh. He was caught with some form of narcotic and was expecting to do a four to five year stretch locked up with the homies. Wrong.
Thanks to an agreement between Cambodia and America, the Cambodian guy's refugee visa was immediately cancelled and just as quickly, he was put on a plane and deported back to Cambodia. By my estimate, I reckon this guy had landed back in Cambodia roughly an hour before he had approached us. No money, no Khemer language skills and no Lonely Planet guide to surviving deportation. Now theres a good reality TV show.
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