The Verb "To Klang"

When I first got off the moto in Takeo I heard a shout of "Petta" and found the girl from the local shop running towards me, looking surprisingly happy. I wasn't sure if this was indicative of how much I'd drunk that someone who I'd bought beer from two months ago remembered my name. Given that I've since been invited to dinner by the family who own the launderette I think it's probably more of a Khmer hospitality thing.

So yeah, I'm back at the orphanage. I was greeted by a hail of "Where's Dan?"s and two innocent-looking, young girls trying to put a toad down my t-shirt, I assume that, because they hadn't dismembered it first, they were relatively pleased to see me.

There's only one other volunteer here at the moment, so gone are the Klang nights of July. It does mean that I have had a chamnce to explore more of Takeo properly: it turns out that there's a whole area of formerly-grand, colonial promenades that I'd been completely unaware of. I didn't even know that Pol Pot had lived here for a bit.

I dropped a ping-pong table on my foot the other day. Since then I've been doing what I believe is technically called "A Bondy" and being constantly paranoid about flies laying eggs in the wound.