From September 2012

Fortune flowers vs urban

 My Bamboo bike , not yet to have own nickname parked in the cafe under the supervision of the parking attendant without bill me for the parking fee, into the electronic atmosphere of the cafe filled with the  patrons,every tables they scrolled their eyes on their treasure portable computers,every faces touched  by the glaring blueish screens like as if the blue-tongue  lizards await for next service. Scooped the last bit of cappuccino’s spicy frothed foam with teaspoon and departed the cafe to collect the greenie’s bike. My nostril admitted the Phnom Penh’s air to my lungs and the smell to the nerves which controls and identifies the vaporised gases. I suspected the highly perfumed gas which feed my nerve that a lady with the spraying top secret recipe perfume  on her face or shoulder has passing the cafe a minutes ago. Toward to the edge of street for any sight of a perfumed person. Only a foot away, my nostril picked the correct gas and I noticed the tiny flower buds into the bamboo thin stick with atop of red flower petals poked into the cavity wall of cemented footpath. The buds are from Jasmine, the bushes blossoming their pearly colored petals ,every day all year,a living and blessed jasmine,the fragrant flower.Jasmine  commading the streets as the vendors selling the highly sweet smell buds weaves the buds into bracelets as good luck the Buddhism way. I shoved the industrial  waste,  the cigarettes butts away from the jasmine tower, let Jasmine meditated the street and people with any class.

Japanese fan breeze my wallet

The ancient like  ‘ceramic Japanese paint’ depiction of the ‘fan’with monetary poem ( Cambodia’s riel and USA’s dollar) on its open surface and close the ‘fan’ tighter, will be  only forty-eight dollars,its bundling into my Rip Curl wallet.

The “

Magical cooker

As the passenger in tuk-tuk come halt at the clogging intersection in Russian Market area,where spotless and flash silvery shine black Toyota with tint window closed only see a family in shadow awhile the Toyota struggle through the school of tuk-tuks,scooters and bikes in slow motion.The to be shopkeeper come out of the stall with his ancient kettle filled with the boiling water toward to the edge of road. Two egg rings rest on the edge of heated road with the yolks floated atop.The shopkeeper stand relax and he pour the steamy water down to the half cooking eggs. The eggs became the magical white already for his feast. Finally Toyota moored out of the intersection and I was amazing to watch a free minutes cooking lesson and the shopkeeper is a magical cooker before the tuk tuk take me out of the intersection.

Bamboo and monks

The motorised scooters and tuk tuks swarming the road without any sight of a traffic policeman and this road christened as Norodon after the king of Cambodia which his reign ends years ago replace by his son. I pointed my index finger to banana pancakes and hazelnut coffee on the menu in the corner cafe which the green planted waist high hedge bordering between cafe and footpath littering with the parking scooters and stalls which selling the yesterday and today papers.The air is renew with the morning rain ceased only few minutes ago.I read the Phnom Penh Post with the front page announced that former Khmer Rouge social action minister named Leng was unfit to stand trail.My eyes spied over the hedges to observe the beautifully rich orange very delight taste same as the orange tree with fruit blossom,being their ritually walking along the street out of the gigantic stone carved gate.One of the shaved head monks slowly paced toward to the cafe then paused until the owner dropped the reils into the monk’s ceramic ‘ lucky tip’ vase to bless the cafe in whispering Khmer.
Bamboo …Bamboo! the bamboo framed bike ! my eyes wildly opened on the the display of the row of the  bamboo bikes in one of the many NGO operating shops lazily located behind the pale pink and canary yellow Royal Palace.I tested the bike, is very solid as a metal framed and lighter than a racing bike. I have wait until my wallet filling thicker with  American dollars.


Wat Lanka, street 278 ,Phnom Penh

where the monks come out every mornings.


One of two Lions, Wat Lanka Phnom Penh


Towering wats overlooking Street 278