Today we threw away the predictable routines, the serious demeanor and the Asanas. Instead we massaged our minds and our bodies from the inside out. We lubricated our joints, making huge arm and leg circles. We rolled and rotated up and down across on our spines and through our core. We gently stroked our cheeks [...]
This was notable for being a large mixed age and gender Khmer crowd with just a very few foreigners and a very unselfconscious mingle. I was surprised to be dragged back out onto the dance area by mature women who probably have no English but enjoyed the sharing. Everyone laughed, danced, stole each other’s partners (always ambiguous in circle dancing) and smeared powder. No language necessary. We wanted to leave? “No, one more, one more.” These are the moments that vindicate solo traveling and are worth the risks of a little loneliness.
There were lots of plain shrimp, shrimp in glass noodles, shrimp on skewers, shrimp in other kinds of noodles, and shrimp in some sort of a little—well I don’t know what, but it was rather ugly and totally delicious. Lots of pork everything, fish everything, some chicken everything…and a large array of generally confusing-to-the-Western-palate desserts.
My eye can’t let go of the prodigious line of (probably) smoked whole pigs, hanging from their hooves. Big pigs, little pigs, ducks too. I quickly untangle the earbuds and snap away with my I-pod. Could I ever go to this market without taking a picture of something?