Birthday and Goodbye, Judge

I turned 35 a few days ago and I had 20 people over for a BBQ. It started out as an excuse to feed the staff but I also wanted to invite my new friends in Cambodia who have been so kind to me. It was great fun, with a full moon (it was the Mooncake Festival the day before, when Chinese eat mooncakes and drink tea while admiring the moon. The children carry lanterns and light candles anywhere they can). We played Khmer songs and drank beer (boy, can the local men put it away). The staff really enjoyed themselves and some came over early to help. (Bonthuen even wanted a test run the day before!) There was a lot of food for the staff to take home, so mission accomplished!

Sipha took me to Chhbar Ampov (pronounced “Chbar Ampou”) market because it’s a wholesale market. Vendors at Psar (“market”) Olympic and others in Phnom Penh city get their goods there. Now I see why it’s so crowded. We bought corn which just came off a truck from Kampot province in the south. It is the season for corn and everywhere now you can see corn vendors selling boiled or grilled corn for 1000 riels or USD0.25 for one. I paid USD3.50 for 50 raw cobs of corn and squatted together with Sipha to pull off the husks. I really felt like a local, although you can tell I’m not because my thigh muscles are nowhere as strong!

Expats here usually shop for food at supermarkets like Lucky, Pencil and Big A. I think it’s because it is what we are used to—nicely laid out aisles and meat, veg and cheese sections. Alan and I shop at Lucky on Sihanouk, mainly because it is convenient (10mins walk from our house) and you can get stuff like broccoli and frozen spinach. There is also a good selection of wine and cheap, compared with where I come from! (Alcohol in Singapore is very expensive, because of the duty. And so are cigarettes! A pack of Marlboros cost USD1 here and more than 6 times as much back home, if I remember correctly.)

The prices at Chhbar Ampov market were also much cheaper than what I was used to. Beef was USD4 a kilo for the good stuff; cuttlefish less than USD2 a kilo; tiger prawns USD6.50; while chicken was USD3.50. I had to go away because the sellers kill the chickens on the spot and boil them to remove the feathers. Sipha was handling the chickens with her bare hands, assessing their size and quality. And all I could think of was “Bird flu! Bird flu!” I made sure we washed out hands the first opportunity we had. I also bought an ice-box for USD24 (down from USD28), which had “Pepsi” splashed across it. I thought it was a lot of money, but my fridge is not big enough for all the food and drinks. I was thinking someone is making a lot of money out of these ice-boxes because they should be provided free by Pepsi to vendors who carry Pepsi products. I wonder if they are stolen, because I have heard of garment workers who steal thread to sell.

I didn’t have a cake but everyone sang me the birthday song anyway. But the day ended with sad news and me crying. I had called home and at first my father did not want to tell me about my dog. He kept saying “I will tell you another time, today you enjoy yourself.” But I wanted to know. Judge, my dog in Singapore, died the day before. He was old, more than 10 years old and Alan had been telling me, he’s done, worn out. He was having problems peeing and was disoriented. I did not know this, but Alan had offered to put him to sleep about a week ago when Alan was in Singapore awaiting the flight to Cambodia. My father said that Judge was unable to eat or drink for the last five days. I was so upset because he was my dog and I was not there for him. I had not seen him in 3 months and I was thinking I left him for a bunch of people I did not even know. I did not have a clue he was ill because he was the same dog when I left. I was even doing research on how to bring him over.

Judge was a beautiful American cocker spaniel. In fact he was called Judge because he looked like he was wearing a judge’s wig. My mom used to call him “angmoh chabor” (Hokkien for European woman) because of the long blond hair on his head. He was found in Eng Neo Avenue in the posh District 10 area by a lecturer at the university who had tried for a week to find its owner before I decided to take him in. Most likely some bloody idiot had thrown him away. There are Singaporeans who see dogs as fashion accessories, like a designer handbag. For a while Schnauzers were the in-thing. Some of these people get fed up of having a pet after a while, just as they would their handbag, and then dump them. I have never bought a dog and did not plan to start when I moved here. Many locals buy short, longhaired, white dogs that look like a cross between a Westie and a Pekinese for USD50. The locals also eat dogs—but only mongrels. The short fluffy white ones are pets. My father told me to take care of Austin (we changed Socks’ name in deference to Austin Powers), but said no more dogs for him and mom because they just cannot take it anymore. Alan says it can kill old people when the dog dies. I have to keep an eye on Austin because I have been told he could get stolen and eaten when he grows up.

Bye, bye Judge. Puppy Austin is here to remind me of the circle of life.