monivong's revenge

well, it was only a matter of time before monivong, montezuma's cambodian cousin, found a weak spot in my otherwise iron constitution... twice. i'll spare you the details. you're welcome.

sisowath monivong 

king of cambodia from 1927 to 1941

(and wreaker of havoc on my digestive system)

i went to the market this morning with my friend mai, and sat there watching while she ate noodle soup with banana flowers and morning glory. i just couldn't do it. i didn't touch a thing the whole time we were there - no fruits, no rice cakes, no noodles, no sweet gloopy drinks (and you may recall that there is little i love more than sweet gloop). in fact, i haven't eaten in the market or on the street once since i got here, and that was practically all i did in hanoi. here, i buy my fruit (and petits écoliers!) at the supermarket around the corner. i eat in tourist restaurants. later today i'm going to go check out some swanky boutique that sells silk wares for foreigners... and i'll probably buy something!

worse, i'm having a hard time engaging. i keep telling myself i need to go to the killing fields, and i keep putting it off. i haven't visited a single wat. i haven't been to the river. i haven't even been to the national museum yet (though if monivong agrees, i might squeeze that in this afternoon as well).

i didn't expect all my cambodia posts to be such "poor me, why am i here?" downers, but it is what it is. for now, anyway.