Here, within sight of the beach and the hundreds of cheering onlookers it felt as if it might all unravel at the very end. The final hurdle of getting through the last line of breakers and on up to the sandbar seems impossible.… Read More
I’ve always known that a drowning man will pull down their rescuer to save themselves.
I understand it, that final animalistic will to live overriding everything else. At the time there is only that moment – survival or death. Guilt and judgement can come later, and from the safety of shore.… Read More
I’ve come-to lying on my back on the sand. The sky above is grey and the sound of the crashing waves is the only thing to be heard over the screams of a wailing mother.
I feel sick. Like I’ve just eaten at Golden Corral then climbed into a tumble dryer.… Read More
I always imagined saving a life would be a clean, heroic act. A trying moment after which one could, exhausted, bask in the praise of a job well done.
In practice, covered in my own vomit, and filled with unexpected guilt, I found myself unable to meet the hollow gaze of the young man I had just pulled from the sea.… Read More
It’s common enough to hear out here in rural Cambodia. Generally accompanied by an open hand, rotated at the wrist – the empty hand, held high for all to see, is a near universal Asian symbol for ‘don’t have’.… Read More
The temple complex at Preah Vihear is stunning. Not for the temple itself. No, that sort of grandeur comes from the behemoths of ancient architecture at Angkor Wat.
At only a mile long, Preah Vihear is dwarfed by the towering faces of Angkor, but they say sometimes it’s not the destination it’s the journey, and in this case it’s the truth.… Read More
‘Nick’, he says.
‘The thing about seventies porn was it looked like dang old every chick had Don King in a leglock’.… Read More
Psychologists say that the most common shared dream, aside from being naked in front of a crowd, is having your teeth fall out.
Herodotus believed that the dream portended death. It’s an easy allegory to make. The passing of time, … Read More
The Khmer Rouge exploded on Cambodian culture like a nuclear bomb. Twenty years of freedom from France had created a bohemian pearl on the Mekong river. Film, music, art, all thrived under the mercurial playboy, Prince Norodom Sihanouk – nurturing them slowly back to life after a hundred years of French imperialism.… Read More
The recent Ebola outbreak in Western Africa has been in the news for almost a year now. More than long enough to filter out to the detached settlers of my small beach.… Read More
It’s 3am in Phnom Penh, and the street children have only just finished their soccer game beneath my window. I guess if you have no place to go when the street lights come on you just get to keep playing.… Read More
Three months in and the strangeness of Asia has not gotten to me in the way I had figured. Sure, they call limes lemons, eat dog, and drink beer with ice, but at the end of the day that’s not enough to trigger the homesickness I had prepared for.… Read More
As far back as I can remember, I’ve always wanted to be a gangster.… Read More
Continued from ‘Easy Rider’
The plan was vague, but the ingredients were all there; motorcycles, asian-chicks, questionable meats. I had no solid plan of attack, little bankroll, and no wingman (or wing-woman, I’m an equal opportunity adventurer and as far as I know menstrual cycles don’t have the same effect on tigers as it does bears).… Read More
Bangkok Thailand, wretched den of vice and iniquity.
Even for those who have never been it conjures images of leering sex tourists and neon drenched prostitutes hanging lazily from the railings of go go bars.… Read More
One of the earliest memories I have of my father is a bedside chat at about the age of 8.
In it he outlined the paths that one’s life can take and how they are often vast and varied. That over the course of a man’s life he may try his hand at many things, some successful, others not.… Read More
Responding to his ad in the middle of the night I found my revolutionary-looking friend, Mr.Ulyanov, was staying only a block away. … Read More
Vietnamese coffee could be used as rocket fuel.
As I write this I can barely keep my caffeine addled fingers steady enough to type and yet they’re so good I’ll probably order another one. A carryover from the French occupation (1859-1954)… Read More
Never trust a fart in southeast Asia. Wish I’d have heard that little gem sooner.
They say you’re never more humble than when, as an adult, you shit your pants. Well ladies and gentlemen, I stand before you today as humble as the Buddha himself.… Read More