Road to Phnom Penh

Photo Credit: A. Peter

A speeding shot of a day fast turning to night. This was taken from a car on our way from Siem Reap to Phnom Penh, after a great two days with friends. We'd been to Angkor Wat, the men and sole teenager absenting themselves from a visit to the temples on the pretext that they'd been there before. 

Since it was new year 2019 we spent the night in Siem Reap's Pub Street crammed into a young crowd, the most peaceful gentle mass of public I have ever been squeezed into, and swayed to some catchy Cambodian music. 

I liked the music enough to try looking for those party music tunes on YouTube. Couldn’t find anything that sounded familiar, but liked what I heard enough to keep listening for some days, mostly Cambodian pop and rock. 

That night we weren't able to get a meal anywhere, finally finding a small South Indian restaurant that was almost closing and had very little food. We were able to eat and found out the owners were Malayalis from North Kerala. The wife and family were Cambodian. The world is indeed a small place. 

Oh, btw, I'm proud of this shot. Reminds me of my years fiddling with a Yashica camera's aperture/shutter speeds to take night pictures. A lifetime of trying to take good pictures. Now I use the camera phone. Something good died along the way. 

                                    ******

#Cambodia #Sunset #Cambodiamusic #Cambodiapop #siemreap #phnompenh #pubstreetsiemreap #pubstreet #cambodiatemples #templesofcambodia #angkorwat #newyear #newyearincambodia #newyearinsiemreap #music #newyearparty #YouTube #teenager #nightphotos #aperture #shutterspeed #Yashica #cameraphone #photographs #wife #northkerala #southindianrestaurantincambodia #travel #traveldiaries #southindianfood #travel #indiansincambodia #malayalis #mumbaimalayalis

Fishy Chronicles 20: The Strangeness Of Happiness

I stumbled against a flower pot and felt Genie's tight grip steady me. I don’t know which was more painful, his fingers biting into my fleshy forearm or my stubbed toe.

“Why are we crawling about in the dark? I’m going to my house. I’m not doing anything illicit! Going home in pitch dark feels like I’m doing something I’m not supposed to,” I grumbled.

“Shhhh,” said Fish.

“I’m saying...”

“Too much,” Genie said. He grabbed my bags, went up the stairs in a flash and I heard the faint sound of my door being unlocked.

I wheeled the fish tank toward the lift and glared at the sleeping watchman. Our racket hadn’t woken him up. Some people were blessed. They could sleep through storms. Even though I had slept in the best beds in Cambodia, I had tossed and turned. I had heard strange noises and had had strange thoughts and only near the end of my holiday had slept long stretches, mostly because I was tired each day.

Genie loomed in my face. He picked up the fish tank and moved swiftly up the stairs. I saw a light in an upstairs window. Old Mrs Glory Gonsalves was smoking in her balcony. She only ever smoked at night and out of sight of our neighbours from the Dark Ages. She blew me a kiss and I blew one back at her.

I walked up the stairs and stopped. Genie was leaning against the wall near our home, ostensibly waiting for me, his arms crossed, his thin white t-shirt clinging to his muscled arms and torso, his nipples showing and one of his legs in front of the other, with the ankles crossed – like those middle-aged society madams trying to look thin and hip. Really, Genie, a minute and you got tired waiting for me?

I entered the flat. I sighed. It was so good to be back home. Fish were already rushing about their home tank, moving furniture, hiding their eats and trying to find their comfortable spots. Their luggage was strewn at the bottom of the tank. Five fish, so much luggage. So materialistic.

A throat cleared behind me and I turned. Genie smiled. “Good night. Your suitcase is in your room.”

                                     ****** 

This is a fictional series about the narrator, Genie, her former manservant and now friend, five opinionated fish, a devoted mosquito called Nobby and a visiting North Pole elf called Donny. They have just returned from a holiday and are now face to face with a neighbour who is in love with Genie.

                                     ****** 
I heard the doorbell ring.

Ignore, ignore, ignore! It was the weekend. I tried to shove my pillow into my ears. Then I heard a familiar voice. I immediately jumped out of bed and tiptoed to my bedroom door and listened.

It couldn’t be! I listened for several minutes. Nothing! What a time for a door to block out sound.

I tiptoed into the corridor off the hallway to hear better, but Genie caught sight of me.

“Oh, look, she’s awake,” Genie stood, smiled and gestured at me to sit near him on the sofa. I felt grubby and shabby in my long loose nightgown, especially as Zeba was looking her best in a tight, flower print halterneck dress.

He took my arm and led me toward the sofa. Genie sat next to me, leaned back, put his arm along the back of the sofa, stretched his legs and smiled expansively at Zeba.

My eyes bulged the minute I felt his arm behind my head. What was Genie thinking! His smile was cool, and hovered only around his mouth. 

My head whipped around. Zeba's smile had faltered and it was clear she was making an effort to keep smiling. 

“Zeba was asking about our trip,” Genie’s moustache said.

“Yes, Cambodia. How exciting. What did you both do?” Zeba's eyes bored into me.

“I was on a yoga retreat. But they,” Genie's free hand gestured at me, and he instantly corrected himself, “she, had the time of her life. Didn’t you, my love? Tell Zeba about your adventures.”

My love? I could feel a stake through my heart already. “E-Er... H-h-had an excellent guide and all. Went to the temples, Angkor Wat, Bayon, Ta Prohm. Y-you must go, it's a traveller's delight, for sure."

“I’m sure.” Zeba said, her eyes feasting on Genie and him smiling back at her lazily. Shit, shit, shit! I turned, desperately looking at Fish. Where was Donny, my dear elf?

I spotted them, pressed against the fish tank’s wall, watching us with no expression at all and very still. Nobby was watching from atop the tank. I turned around and saw Donny hiding behind a large potted plant on my sitting ledge near the window. I felt a little confidence creep into my being.

I looked back at Zeba and was startled by an angry look, quickly replaced by a fake smile. I felt Genie's arm fall onto my shoulder and him saying loudly into my ear. “Go get our present for Zeba. It’s the bag on the kitchen platform. Go on. And some of those chocolates.”

I got up. There were about six mangoes tied up in a fancy gauzy bag, a big red ribbon tied neatly around its neck. I opened the fridge and found two large bars of liquor chocolates in a narrow checked gift bag, sitting on a shelf. Genie seemed to have thought of everything.

When I returned, Genie and Zeba were standing and kissing each other's cheeks. I handed Zeba the mangoes and chocolates and she thanked Genie effusively and ignored me. 

He put his hand on the small of her back and guided her toward the door. She attempted to hug him but he held back. So she threw her arms around his neck and then moved back, out of the door and out of my line of vision. Genie waved and nodded and smiled and then closed both doors.

“What's going on, Genie?” I asked.

Genie shrugged, sat on the sofa and shook out the newspaper he had been reading before Zeba rang the doorbell.

I stood in front of him, plucked the newspaper out of his hands, shoved it into my left armpit, crossed my arms and waited. 

Genie grinned broadly, stretched his legs, for which I had to move out of the way, and relaxed, staring up at me, his head tilted to one side. “Fraternising with a beautiful neighbour.”

“A hateful woman.”

“Tut, tut. A human being. And an esteemed member of this Society.”

“Bullshit.”

Genie laughed. He looked at my angry face and laughed again.

I looked up. The top of the tank had slammed against the wall behind it, and against the laws of physics stayed upright precariously. 

“What the fork, Genie! What the hell are you playing at!” my dear, dear Penaaz shouted. Water splashed out of the tank, as the other fish first flew around the tank and then jumped to the top.

“Yeah,” Portas and Pervez shouted together.

I could see Genie was surprised at Fish's reactions. What did he expect! They hated Zeba as much as I did.

I remembered Nobby. He was now sitting on the bookshelf. “Why didn’t you bite Zeba, Nobby?”

“I have renounced violence.”

“Bullcrap and bullshit!” 

Genie and Nobby burst out laughing. I threw myself at Genie, but I was no match for him. He pinned me against the sofa with an arm and continued to laugh while I and Fish shouted and swore. Finally Genie put his finger on my lips and said, “Shhh. We don’t want darling Zeba to return, do we?”

I wanted to call him a name, but mostly I wanted to bounce the hardest, biggest Cambodian mango we had on Zeba's fat, hairy head. When he didn't take off his hand from my mouth or stop pinning me to the back of the sofa, I nodded angrily. After an eternity, he let me go. The idiot!

I stood up. “What is going on, Genie?”

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit!”

Genie laughed.

“Stop playing around with me, Genie! Are you fooling around with her?” I demanded. 

Genie stopped laughing, but continued to smile. He shrugged one shoulder.

“Out with it, Genie,” Gregory said from the tank.

“I didn't expect Zeba to visit. So soon, in any case,” Genie said.

“We're listening,” Gregory prodded.

“And I’ve been thinking these last few days... especially after her phonecalls while we were in Phnom Penh...”

“And?” I pressed.

“And I think I’ve been handling things... inefficiently.”

“Meaning?” 

“We’re going about Zeba the wrong way.”

“So all the mangoes you bought in Phnom Penh were for Zeba?” 

“No. The mangoes and chocolates on the kitchen platform were for Ms Glory. Zeba just beat her to it.”

“But you’re sending Zeba the wrong signals!”

“I’m just trying to do the neighbourly thing. Sharing fruit.”

“Sounds like bullshit to me,” I told him.

“Good to know.”

I had a thought. “Are you two going to be coochie cooing on a regular basis?”

“I can’t say."

“It would make me sick,” Portas said from the fish tank.

“I second that,” Gregory said. The lovers, Penaaz and Pervez, had retreated to a corner and were murmuring to themselves.

Genie patted the seat next to him. When I didn’t move, he pulled me onto the sofa. “I’ll make some tea. I offered yours to Zeba.”

I was going to say something rude when I remembered. “Did Nobby...?”

“Yes. He had the first sip. Happy?” 

I shook out the crumpled entertainment supplement of the Bombay Sentinel. What I wouldn’t give for Zeba to know a mosquito had dunked his proboscis into her tea, especially one who often chugged her blood. I struggled not to chuckle.

Papa was right. Happiness came from the strangest things. 

                                    ******

Fishy Chronicles 17: New Year In Cambodia

Dear Me,

It's so strange to get back together after so long. I’m using a fake Mont Blanc pen to scribble in you. From Orussey Market – 20 dollars only, after some bargaining.

Do I still have my old journal? Will have to hunt for it. Hope no one's looked through it. Hope there’s no incriminating stuff.

I know I took a break... I shouldn’t have... when my marriage unravelled and Amma, and then Appa, died. They always told me to be strong, but...

I saw ‘his’ sister the other day. Didn’t have a choice. My cousin asked me to visit and attend church with her and who did we see looking at us in shock from a crowded pew near the door – the He Devil's very own evil sibling.

My cousin Roma smiled at her and, despite there being other vacant spots in the crowded church, sat next to my former sister in law. What an uncomfortable Sunday service it was.

When I asked Roma why she did that, she said, “That was the best spot in church – right under the fan and the doorway next to us if we wanted to leave early. Plus, I wanted to piss her off!”

I need to take a page out of Roma's book – to teach people that good manners doesn’t mean weakness.

This is a fictional series surrounding the narrator, a divorcée who lives in the distant suburbs of Mumbai, her ex manservant, a former underworld don turned world traveller, and a school of vocal, irascible fish.

Anyway, here I am now with Fish, Genie, Nobby and Donny, a new friend from the North Pole. That’s an interesting story and you might have wanted to be there – in the thick of it. I did have a good Christmas – the ‘family’ turned up – and now I'm having a better New Year. Genie has taken us to Cambodia. He says it is his New Year’s gift to us. So be it. What a lovely gift.

We were led to believe we were going up in a deadbeat World War 1 Fokker, but Genie played us. Scared us to death. We eventually came here in a Cessna, with literally only the clothes on our backs, plus the two extra undies I wore while travelling and an aviator that I have now misplaced. Since then, Genie has got me some fine clothes and a pair of sunglasses that make me look like a dudette.

We’ve been around the floating village Kampong Phluk and the nearby lake Tonlé Sap and saw Angkor Wat! And the smaller temples nearby – Ta Prohm and Bayon. They were amazing – of course, aided by the guide's commentary.

At left, tourists climbing the stairs for a view from
 Angkor Wat's top.
Top right, the view most tourists want of Angkor Wat.
  Bottom, the carvings on the wall of the Ramayana and Mahabharata.
(Photos: A. Peter)

The fact that the country is, and has been, Hindu and Buddhist warms our hearts. It is like coming home. Especially when seeing the temples everywhere, even in Phnom Penh. And if you're still unconvinced, wait till you see the Cultural Show, Smile of Angkor, in Siem Reap, about the history and evolution of Cambodia. I had been dismayed that Genie wanted me to see it, with friends of his, but I was hooked from start to finish.

At Pub Street on New Year's eve, in the heart of Siem Reap, we squeezed into a peaceful young crowd, that swayed to Taki Taki and Cambodian pop. We inched through the masses, trying to find an Indian restaurant that time of night, and even though Genie was right behind me, it was the most peaceful and courteous crowd I’ve ever rubbed shoulders with.

If this had been new year's eve in Mumbai, for sure there’d have been alien hands on every part of my body. And I would have been insulted for being loose and out late at night.

Fish were smitten by the guide Genie organised for us on our temple visit day – a sweet Cambodian girl named Suvanna. When they realised she hadn’t eaten breakfast, they tried to ply her with fruits and juices. They insisted she hold them up close to the murals in Angkor Wat, because they saw fish and other water beings carved into the walls – in scenes from the Mahabharata and Ramayana.

They threw dirty looks at me when I offered to hold them up. So I held onto Penaaz and Genie and I backed away and went off to look at the rest of the temples. Then we crouched over the spot that is supposed to be the centre of the earth. Genie placed his compass at the spot – the needle shivered and spun, but did not stop moving.

Clockwise from left. Ta Prohm temple, a silvery Spung tree, that's the colour, it looks silver. Apparently it's found in many East Asian countries. At bottom, our sweet guide Suvanna.
(Photos: A. Peter)

An apsara and Angkor Wat.
(Photos: A. Peter)

 The best part of the trip is that Genie has an outing planned for us every day. But, I think Fish are being their uber fractious souls.

Every morning there are little chits of pink paper on Genie's bedside table. Yesterday one was folded back into a rocket shape and balanced on a book. When I sniffed it, it smelt of kebabs.

I tried to open the pink letter, but I heard Genie's throat clear and hurriedly threw it away.

You remember what happened the last time I looked at one of their pink demands. War broke out at home. In any case, my silly neighbour from across, with her massive unfettered breasts swinging in my face, tried to barge in, saying there was too much of a racket.

I wonder what she was trying to achieve by entering. How did she plan to subdue Fish? I dearly wanted to watch her try.

She got upset when I offered her the pair of spare Emirates ear plugs Roma had given me years ago. I have new ones now.

Zeba grabbed the ear plugs and threw it angrily into the flat behind me. I was shocked. So arrogant!!! She tried to step in, to complain to Genie personally, she said, but I used the basketball block and she bounced backwards unexpectedly into the hall.

“Genie's on an indefinite holiday in Sweden,” I said, irritated up to my eyeballs. How dare she treat me so!

“You’re lying,” Zeba said. “I saw him here this morning!”

Shit. “Where?” I asked pseudo imperiously.

“He was making tea! Don’t you have any shame – making a fine man like that slave in your kitchen?!”

“No. I don’t.”

“What is he doing in your flat anyway.”

“He’s my employee.”

There was applause from Fish when I finally wrestled the door shut, but I was worn out. I hate the bitches of Peaceful Society. I have looked at buying another home, but I don’t have the money. So for now, here I am. Peaceful Society, I want to learn how to stick uncomfortably in your throat.

So, back to Cambodia. Some of Fish's demands were related to the local market.

Though we bought a packet of it, I couldn’t bring myself to eat the fried locusts. I’m not even sure they were fried. I never asked. Donny bravely took a bite and left it at that. He said it was an acquired taste.

Genie ate lots of local fruit. It came in all sizes. Mangoes grow year round. And even if a fruit isn't in season, you can get a dried version of it on the street or in the market.

We tried to be adventurous and ate local food wherever we could, on the long drive from Siem Reap to Phnom Penh, but we stayed hungrier than we intended. Though we were often surprised by some dishes we discovered accidentally.

And some very sad news.

I discovered today, I am three kgs heavier. I do not blame it on Cambodia. It’s my life's excesses.

Toodles. Until my next soul-racking update.

                                     ******

A better look at a Spung tree. In the sunlight it looks
like it is painted with silver paint.
(Photo: A. Peter)

Siem Reap's Pub Street on New Year's eve.
(Photo: A. Peter) 

Fishy Chronicles 15: Torment In The Sky

I felt a poke in my breast.

“Sorry, that wasn't intentional,” Genie said.

I looked involuntarily at the space between our seats on the Cessna and realised his elbow poke had been innocent. Besides, I didn’t think it was Genie’s style to fondle sleeping women with his elbows.

When I didn’t respond, Genie leaned closer and his moustache murmured, “Still angry with me?”

“Ah, no. How much longer?” I seemed to have woken up because our little plane had landed somewhere.

“Another hour. This is a scheduled halt.”

This is a fictional series surrounding Fish, who previously lived with the narrator and then left to spread their fins, Genie, her erstwhile manservant and now free soul and world traveller, and Donny, the North Pole elf spending the Christmas and New Year holidays with the narrator. 

The narrator is a single woman living in the distant suburbs of Mumbai.

I looked through the windows. “Are we moving East or West?” Seemed like East, judging by the number of East Asians on the airfield.

“Are we going to Malaysia? Singapore? Borneo?” I was hopeful about the last. Nothing about Genie was predictable. And so I crossed off Malaysia and Singapore off my list. Besides I’d trawled the two countries with my parents a few times. We’d done the tourist drills and then later when my aunt turned 70, we'd visited her again in Johore Baru. That time I could remember some of what I saw.

“Borneo, Brunei, Vietnam?” I tried again.

“Wait and see, my dear.”

Hong Kong and Macau? I grabbed his arm excitedly, “China?!”

He shook his head.

I stared at Genie's overwhelming moustache and hawk nose. I wanted to pull both in frustration. “Have you ever had a girlfriend, Genie?”

“Why do you ask?”

“I want to know if any of those women... or men... ever asked you to shave off your moustache.”

Genie chuckled. “Yes. Almost all of them did.”

“Men or women?”

Silence.

“Well, did you shave it off?”

“No.”

“And what happened?”

He shrugged and turned to hand popcorn and chocolates to Fish and Donny, who was now sitting on the edge of the tank with his feet in the water.

“Doesn’t Thadeus think it strange you wanted a fish tank in his plane?” I asked.

“Yes. But he’s met Fish before. It’d be easier to make them comfortable than ask them to fall in line. Thad often flies Carl about too.”

“Carl?”

“You know, Fish's rich benefactor.”

Fish were now at the top of their tank, listening to our conversation. “You lot told me his name was Garl!” I said, beginning to get angry.

“No,” Gregory said, “you chose to hear otherwise. And we let you continue to think so assuming you'd figure things out soon.” He shrugged and looked at me defiantly.

“That’s an utterly crap excuse. To let me think so for so long is... is...”

“Is what?” Genie grinned.

“I can’t think of a word! Only rude ones come to mind. It feels so mean. Like Zeba and Peaceful Society all over. I don’t need it, do you understand?!”

I felt a hand on my arm. I shook it off.

“What brought that on?” Genie murmured.

“You can’t figure it out? You thought it was fun that I’d think he was Garl instead of Carl for years? To speak to him and call him Garl... What must he think of me. So rude, Fish. Not done!”

There was silence on the plane. I was embarrassed. I had forgotten there were other flyers.

A while later, Thad called me into the cockpit. I couldn’t summon a smile. “Carl had a good laugh.” Thad's smile evaporated at my glare. “Er, but Fish always told him they were having fun with you. He didn’t take it badly.”

“How do you know him?”

“Genie put me on to him.”

“How come?”

Thad looked wary. “They do business. I fly him about. Genie puts a lot of business my way.”

“What does Carl do?”

“I just fly him, I don’t ask questions.”

Nicely fobbed off. Carl, as far as I knew, was extremely wealthy but I couldn’t understand his accent. Once he told me he was Scots.

“I’ve never heard of any Scotsmen named Garl,” I told him.

“Humeny Scotmun d’yue gnaw?”

“Gnaw?” I didn’t bite people. What the hell did he mean?

“Yea, humeny?”

“Humeny?”

“Humeny Scotmun y’no?”

“No?” This was bizarre.

“Nun?”

“Nun?” Maybe if I met you I could lipread you, Garl. But I was not ending this soon enough. “Er, Garl, give Fish my love. Catch you later.”

“Roit, lass. Oil be seen yue!”

“Roit.”

I watched the men on the airfield. Carl probably thought I was a royal twit. I felt like one. When I least expected it, Fish sent zingers my way. Idiots.

“What do Fish do with Garl?” I asked the innocent Thad. He now represented my fount of Fishinformation.

“Carl. They travel with him. He loves going about in style. Stays in the best hotels and moves around places I’ve never heard of.”

“Like?”

“Well, early this year Fish went to Finland. You know... in Scandinavia?”

I knew where Scandinavia was! It was in my school atlas, Genie sent me postcards from there and what the hell was there to see apart from overweight men in hotsprings showing indecent amounts of loose flesh, much snow and blond Vikings and their busty, sexy women. Oooh... and Stefan Edberg and Mats Wilander! I forgot them!

“Yes, Scandinavia, comprising Norway, Sweden and Finland... And any other countries I may have missed.” I tried to Google the region and realised I hadn’t subscribed to prepaid international roaming – the plus of being middle class.

“Well, they were holed up in a high-end resort, snowed in... Carl and his girlfriend... and Fish.” Thad smirked.

That must have been uncomfortable. Fish were voyeurs, but kinky human interactions made them go numb. No wonder they were in Mumbai, enjoying a sweaty winter.

Naw. That couldn’t be it. They knew Genie was going to be in Mumbai in December, they had turned up with their special pink paper and then there were the weird, anonymous Christmas gifts. I still thought they were from Fish, but now I had lots of doubts.

“Where are we headed to, Thad?” I said, hoping to catch him off guard.

“It’s a secret.”

“I could ask the other passengers.”

“Good idea!” Thad grinned. “You’ll need to buckle up. Time to take off again.”

In my mind I swore at Thad. He seemed like Genie's amiable twin. Handsome too! I flounced off and buckled up. Thad announced we were going to take off. But wait! No one else was getting in – the other seats were empty and the plane's door was shut. My co-passengers had all exited the plane.

I looked out... people were moving away from the aircraft. The plane started taking off and I felt tense, my hold on the armrests a vice.

Genie put his arms around me and held me tightly. I struggled to push him away – I now knew what Zeba wanted. It was too much skin, muscle, sweat and cologne – all a nauseating mix. But it got my mind off the wretched take off.

In an instant he let go and a comic was thrust at my nose.

                                       ******

Somewhere in the Far East. 
(Photo credit: A. Peter)

We helped Fish with their airsuits and they lined up at the window to watch the descent. I took photos of all my darlings, their backs turned to me.

“Fork, Fork, Fork, FORRRRK!!!” Penaaz screamed, jumping up and down in excitement.

“Is that one of the seven wonders of the world, Genie?!!” Gregory didn’t even turn. Fish were now pressing themselves against the window. Donny’s eyes gleamed. And he did the strangest thing. He leaped into Genie's arms, hugged him and then just as quickly jumped back to the window again.

I tried to undo my seat belt. I stilled when Genie ordered, “Not while we're descending. Stay put!” I shrank back and glared at him, but he was watching Fish and Donny and smiling at their excitement.

I saw a massive black stone structure and then it disappeared below the window and then smaller ones came into view and disappeared. I couldn’t figure it out... were we visiting a seventh wonder of the world? Pyramids... and then a blank. Childhood general knowledge escaped me. Were we in Machu Pichu?

“Genie, do you have international roaming?”
I could see Genie take a slow breath and the tic in his cheek return.

“Yes. You can use my phone once we land.”

“Is that one of the seven wonders of the world?” I gestured at the window, not knowing what I had glimpsed.

“I have not heard it described that way.”

“How have you heard it being described?”
We bumped all over the ground and the screeching and banging of the plane over the tarmac muffled his answer... if any. That was a lousy landing. Experienced pilot my ass!

I threw off my seat belt and lunged over Genie to look out the window but it was fast turning dark. The sky was a beautiful red, orange hue. There were no signboards near enough to read.

He had Fish and Donny in his arms, our haversack on his shoulder and turned at the door to look at me. I yelled a goodbye at Thad and hurried after Genie.

“Where are we?” I asked Genie’s back. There were lights now in the distance. We got into a jeep and drove ahead.

“How long do you plan to keep me in the dark, Genie?”

I heard a short bark of laughter. But my attention was drawn to the signs. Most of it in a language I couldn’t decipher. I grabbed Genie's phone. I had a trick too.

I stared at the screen and sighed. Finally!

“Satisfied?” Genie said, amusement in his voice.

“No!”

“Okay. Here we are!”

And we stopped at a palace and I tumbled out. Literally. I felt shabby. There were porcelain white Asian dolls in high heels and expensive slinky outfits, beautifully made up, walking into the hotel in pairs. There seemed to be a party in motion.

I looked down and at us. Genie was still smirking. He grabbed my arm and we marched in... through the enormous doorway. It seemed we weren’t going to be kitchen staff here.

He dropped the bag, Fish and Donny in my lap and went off to reception. Before I could react, a man dressed in satiny flared pants and a traditional coat offered me a hot towel, a welcome drink and wafted off. Apparently Fish in airsuits and North Pole elves were common sights here. I was wide awake now. Was it too late to explore? My watch read Indian time.

Genie gestured at me and we followed the doorman upstairs. I wanted to scream a 100 questions. We came to a room.

“What are we doing here, Genie? And if you’d told me we were going to stay in a palace I'd have dressed better!”

“Right.” He pulled me into the room and shucked my bag onto the table and checked the loo and balcony and tested the doors. “Goodnight. Don’t watch TV or stay up late. We’ve got an early day ahead of us. I’ll wake you up at 4.”

I grabbed his arm. “Don’t you think this skulduggery has gone on too long?”

He grinned. “Yes. I’m surprised you didn’t beat me. Though I was nervous for my well being on many occasions. But now you know.”

“Know what?”

“Where we’re going.”

“Where are we going?”

“We’re going to Angkor Wat in a couple of days. And tootling around Cambodia the rest of the week. For sure we'll spend the new year here. Game?”

“Game. But why hide it?”

“You thought East Asia was infra dig.”

“I did not,” I said weakly.

“I could have sworn you wanted to catch the fag end of winter in Europe.”

“Won’t it rage on for some months?”

“Yes. Now sleep tight. You'll see things tomorrow you never have. I’ll stand outside until you lock the door. Here's your local phone. I've added my number in it.”

I latched the door and then looked around.

What a room! And the bathroom had a massive jacuzzi in it. And for once there was no noise or complaints from Fish. I looked longingly at the tub but took a shower instead. I had just a few hours to sleep.
                                        ******