Movin and Poopin. Photos of new apartment at bottom.

I’m writing this sitting in the airconditioned comfort of my bedroom having just finished that most amazing of all luxuries, a blow of cereal. It’s my first cereal in 5.5 months. I have a rash on my face so that my eyes are mere almonds peeking out of the puffiness. Just another chink in the armour of my resolve. I’ve been sick the last week, either a parasite or bacteria but either way everything going in was coming straight out. After three days of no let-up I gave in and went to see a doctor who admitted me straight away and put me on an IV drip for rehydration plus bottles full of antibiotics. Add to that an infection from the IV causing swelling and diminished range of movement in my right arm plus the humiliation of having to poop in a pot when they’ve just injected antibiotics into to you to stop you pooping. My resolve is being chinked all over the place. My friend, which happens to be the new owner of Scoopy, being the truly amazing person that she is, offered to be poop courier for me (when we finally got some action), and the truly hilarious thing, they charged her $21 for the pleasure of dropping it off to them. I’m feeling heaps better today, apart from a face like Godzilla and a still bung arm but I’m working from home to treat myself and adminsiter some tender loving care. I’ll be back to work tomorrow though and back to the lovely people who have been really worried about me. I first got sick at work and the “Mum’s” all gathered around, rubbing tiger balm on my tummy, massaged my back, made me drink tea with lemon and honey and scolded me for not telling them I was sick. They’re such caring people - I’ve had visits at home to drop of care packages, phone calls to check how I am and the offer of a lift in the middle of the night (if I needed it) from Sopheak the IT manager. My friends also have been so caring, generous and supportive for people I’ve only known for a matter of months but time doesn’t come into the bonds that you form. They’ve united to form “team tough love” and demand that I go to the doctor, they’ve delivered my poop and they’ve sat all afternoon watching episode after episode of “Brothers and Sisters” to keep me company. My armour of resolve has had a few chinks knocked out and is looking smoother. I’m so thankful that I am in my new home to be sick and lick my wounds. I think my resolve would have completely vanished if I’d had to endure being ill in the old apartment. I love this new place, its way smaller which translates to more homely. It has aircon and masses and masses of natural light, there’s no yapping blind dog driving me slowly deranged and no psychotic security mad, landlord. A market three doors down for all the essentials and the Independence Monument park at the end of my street on which I’d started running two nights before I got sick. It was a lovely "moving day" where East worked alongside West to transport Jacqui and her way too plentiful trappings two kilometres down the road. Mr Khun brought along Mrs Khun (a very tireless, strong and beautiful person) and his Camry, the heaviest tv in the world went in a Tuk-Tuk and pot plants travelled via motorbike and bicycle basket. A few things went missing, the tv got broke and Em pulled a glut muscle but we all finished up by having a lovely picnic on my new balcony. Mr Khun told us stories from the Pol Pot time, how him and Mrs Khum got together and Adam showed us his bruise from driving his motorbike home drunk last night and having it fall on him – ssshhh don’t tell the Embassy. I went to my first meditation session at a local Buddhist temple (Wat) a few weeks ago. I found it “enlightening”. But seriously I did really enjoy the experience, there’s something inspirational, moving and calming about sitting cross legged on the floor of a high ceiling temple with Buddha statues gazing down at you, ancient stories depicted across the ceiling and walls, a gentle breeze blowing through the open doors and monks in their brilliant saffron robes (civara) meditating alongside you. My thoughts clarified, things I’d been deliberating on, crystallised. Of course that could have been because there was a shortage of blood flowing to my brain due to the fact in was stuck below, caught inside my folded legs that had lost all feeling. Half an hour of crossed legs would appear to be my limit, something for me to work on, along with the emptying of my mind. I haven’t managed to get back again yet but intend to do so. I had a very impromptu visit to Siem Reap just before my move. I felt like getting away so on the Friday morning at work I asked for a half day, took my small pack and got on the midday bus heading north. It was so liberating! The bus was half empty and I had space to myself to spread out and read the Phnom Penh Post, to doze, to look at the countryside. It took six hours but a relaxing six hours to shake off the shackles and see things afresh. A lovely weekend followed, relaxing by the swimming pool at lovely accommodation, watching rugby, drinking, shopping and eating with friends. I got a return bus back at lunchtime on the Sunday full of good spirits, ready to take on the world and looking forward to moving homes. Lounge/living area View from my balcony with market in photo at bottom.