Bunyang

We make a few friends among the staff on the ship.  I catch Bunyang outside one morning on a break and he asks me some questions about my life and tells me about his.  He works 10 1/2 months straight, 7 days a week, on the ship.  His wife lives in a room in Phnom Penh, studying nursing for which he's paying - they see each other once a week or so when the ship is docked in town.  His 3 year old daughter lives 100 kilometers away with his in-laws so he obviously doesn't see her much at all.  Still, he has a good job and he's reflective, philosophical about the situation.  At one point he asks if we have children.  When I say no he paused a minute before replying, explaining that people without kids in Cambodia have a tough road ahead because they have no one to take care of them when they get older - no powerful, wealthy government or social agency will step in.  He didn't ask why we didn't have children or express either approval or disapproval - he explained factually how that would shake out in Cambodia.

One morning I sidle up to the bar to order my coffee in the still deserted lounge.  He motions to me to take a seat: "I'll bring you the coffee."  I say, no, I want to stay here and talk to you.  God knows I didn't want to talk to any discontented rich people  Afterwards he wishes me well with my day and says: "Thank you for talking to me."  I get it that these service people need my money and they're more likely to get some of it if they behave in a certain way.  I was a salesman - I met a lot of nice people when I was working but, face it - we both knew that the only reason I was there was that I hoped they'd buy something.  Still, I never got the sense that I was being treated well in an attempt to separate me from some of my money.

I tipped Bunyang extra.  Damn right I did.