Carne Asada Burrito in Krong Kaeb

[Kampot, 1/3/25]

In two hours, I’ll be on a bus to Kep. Its name is derived from Cape, which was also what Vũng Tàu was called by the French. (Full name, Cape Saint Jacques.)

Enjoying Kampot so much, I hesitated before checking out of Ratanak Thmey, but it’s time to leave. Yesterday, I told Tài about my intention of going to Kep. That’s enough of a goodbye, so I’m at a different café. Tellingly, it’s also owned by Vietnamese. They get up earlier than Cambodians, Laos and even Thais. My Vung Tau morning spot opens at 3:30AM.

There’s a tiny portrait of an old lady in an áo dài. Only the touched up dress has colors. Her flesh has faded. Her face is ghost white. There’s also “An Khang Thịnh Vượng” on a calendar. It promises peace and prosperity. There are two fish tanks and three altars. The one with Buddha is smallest. Harbingers of wealth, Chinese folk deities are more honored. The confusion of objects is typically Vietnamese. There’s an empty crib with a stuffed crocodile, duffel bag, small backpack, pillow and laundry basket. That baby is probably in high school if not married. If this was Vietnam, there might be a banner wishing newlyweds a century of happiness. Viets here must curb their language. That’s why I’ve only spoken English to the server. (The other day in Tuek Chhou, Tài told locals I was Japanese.) The other fifteen customers are all Cambodians, and all men. Instead of sipping coffee at home, they’d rather spend more to escape domesticity. Some would even enlist for a war, undoubtedly. Americans are particularly eager. Yemen, Syria or Somalia has a liberating aura Chester, North Charleston or Walla Walla lacks. Holding a plastic bag of Chinese fried dough, a man is looking over my shoulder. I’m typing in such an exotic language. The richer kids here can even study French or German. In overcrowded classrooms with smudgy walls, poor ones must pick up English from underpaid teachers. This café, too, hasn’t been painted in decades. Grime coats its Chinese lanterns. Looking up, I’m surprised there’s no cobweb at each corner. Lacking flying insects, spiders lose weight and become philosophical. All species are endangered.