The Unsettling Incident at 90 Meat Product

I was not having a very good day. I was very hungry, and there were no donuts in the donut-case when I walked in to school that morning. Due to female problems, my abdomen really, really hurt. The Nametag Guy was spouting off obnoxiously elaborate accolades to all the teachers as they came in for work. Class was moving ever more slowly as the morning wore on.

I knew that the supermarket down the road could solve all my problems (except for the Nametag Guy), so I resolved to go there during my 15 minute break.

Upon walking in, I saw that the food aisle was blocked by other customers, so I took a more circuitous route, looking at All The Pretty Things as I walked. My eyes rested upon a coloring book in one of the aisles, and as I stopped to examine it, her eyes rested on me.

A little girl, the owners' 8-year-old daughter, had followed me down the aisle, stopped 3 feet away from me, and was now watching me examine the coloring book. I passed her a glance, being perfectly used to things like this. Feeling a little awkward, I continued walking, rounded the corner and walked up the next aisle, then down the next one.

By that time, I was in the food aisle, and tried to decide what I wanted to eat today. Then I saw that the little girl had materialized at the end of the aisle, again. It was apparent she was following me.

I'm pretty used to being stared at on account of my black and white hair. I'm also pretty used to small children following me around, begging for (sometimes demanding) money. Sadly, I'm also aware that a lot of store employees follow me around--I guess making sure that the obviously drug-addicted barang isn't going to steal expensive things and sell them to fuel her drug addiction (I seriously don't know why else multiple employees in every store would follow me to the extent they do; no one else seems to have this trouble). But today, it looked like I was getting all three rolled into one.

Being intently watched made it difficult to choose what I wanted to buy. I gave up and walked to the next aisle, looking for feminine hygiene products.

And there she stood at the end of the aisle.

Getting really annoyed by now, I raised my eyebrows at her to affect a questioning-but-annoyed look. There was no real response. Choosing my product, I went back to the previous aisle and tried to select some cookies.

...And then:

She left me no choice...I had to do something about this highly awkward situation. As kindly and sweetly as possible, I asked what it was that she wanted from me. Strangely, given her keen powers of observation, she seemed not to know what to say, and fumbled for words for a long time. It was rather strange.

Then she disappeared around the corner.

But it leaves me wondering, What did she want from me? Why do store employees always follow me? Do I look that much like a thief? Why couldn't the school just serve donuts today?

I chose a box of Chips Ahoy, paid at the front, and got the heck out of 90 Meat Product.

I Still Don't Know What Day It Is: An Update

Well, I had an interesting turn of events today.

As soon as I finished writing about why I'm not blogging, I went home and checked One Last Place--my wardrobe. Now, I don't see why a ring would be in my wardrobe, but I looked anyway.

And guess what? I didn't find the ring. But I did find the $3.00 in riels that I was sure had been ripped off. Apparently, I did the responsible thing and put them inside a small medicine chest, which I normally keep toothbrushes in. I don't know how they got there--I have no memory of doing that, but I guess it was over a month ago.

That, of course, raises the tantalizing possibility that no one actually took my ring. I've accidentally swept the ring into the trash on at least one other occasion, and it's possible I did that again without noticing, somehow. Although I have a distinct memory of hurriedly shoving it between some other things, it is possible I didn't do that when I thought I did. Like I said, it's been a month.

So I must concede that the ring is equally likely to be missing due to my own negligence than due to thievery. Although I still wish I had the ring, I'd rather it belong to a garbage picker than a thief.

Because I can now entertain the possibility that no one ripped me off, the storm clouds have lifted. Vengeance need not be mine; I lay my weapons down. I am at peace.

And the ring may yet turn up, who knows?

Day Whatever: Screw Blogging

I haven't blogged for the last several days, because frankly, the only things that were going to spew from my fingertips were hate-filled diatribes and invective against Cambodian society. So I guess I lost my 30-Day Challenge.

I'm still pretty upset about the ring. Some guy got a shitload of money for it, at my expense, and I hope for his sake that I never find out who he is.

I've already talked to the landlady--I did even before my last entry. She told me to double check everything in my room and report back.

I tried talking my friend Thearea into becoming a mole and finding out who took it and where they sold it...but he's too conflict averse. And I can't do anything about it myself, seeing that I'm a non-Khmer-speaking white girl.

My only other option is going to the police, which will of course cost me more than the ring is even worth in financial and (possibly) sexual favors. I've been strongly cautioned against it.

So, as you can see, I'm pretty much stuck accepting the fact that some turd made off well at my expense. That's a lot easier said than done, and I am bitter.

I'll blog again whenever I get my sense of humor back.