M hankers for pie, something thats not too easy to find in Phnom Penh.
A couple of months before we went back to New Zealand for our break M answered an after school phone call from J.
'I'm bringing home pie' he thought he heard.
Hopes were dashed when a couple of hours later J arrived home with 'Thai' for dinner. Fresh spring rolls and green mango salad a poor substitute for the meat and pastry combination the average Kiwi eats 15 times a year and the search was on in earnest.
Eventually J heard, from an Aussie, there was fairly decent pie to be had from the 'Rising Sun' and since Australians, like Kiwis, consider the humble hand sized pastry an indelible part of their national and cultural identity, J headed straight over. Pie in hand, later that evening, he was waiting on the 'footpath' outside his office for our driver when he felt a sharp tug on the elbow of his crooked pie carrying arm. There rising to barely knee height sat an adult male Macaque accompanied by two, slightly smaller, hench-monkeys, his eyes fixed firmly on the pie bag. A deft flick of his long fingers, a tooth bared smile and he was off up the street his prize carried above his head in triumph. J arrived home with no pie but an only in Cambodia tale to tell which was not much conciliation for the empty tum of a pie eyed boy.