Cambodia girls nightlife
Normal enough, even, that I thought I knew what was going on.I’d see a Western male tourist by himself and think, “Hmmph, I know what you’re up to.” I’d finish my evening run and walk past a row of bars called Horny Bar and Heart Break — or walk past the infamous and unironically named nightclub Heart of Darkness — and I’d think they were the harems of Western-fueled iniquity. Without having ever gone inside one, I thought I knew what was up. They slouched in plastic chairs, picked at their nails, crossed and uncrossed their toothpick legs.
They strolled past the line of girls without so much as a glance and sat down at the table beside Neil and me.
They nodded at the proprietor, glanced at the projection of a football match against the whitewashed cement wall; they eyed the girls up and down with about as much enthusiasm as you would a lawn mower and then took seats in plastic chairs at plastic tables and ordered pints of beer. You know, you hear “girly bar in Cambodia” and you picture…
well, not a leafy patio adorned with decorative lanterns and twinged with the smell of cooking French fries, a hot-breathed breeze tracing itself across the blackened contour of the tables, the chairs, the bodies sitting in the chairs and staring off bored, crossing and uncrossing their legs.
Men filtered through the open-air patio, Western guys in flip-flops and shorts.
They wore the efficient expressions of informed consumers and moved like men at a hardware store, browsing for goods.