Cr-eeepy

Worse things have happened to people – even to my friends here – but a couple recent events reminded me that I can’t get too comfortable. Cambodia is a safe place, but like anywhere in the world, danger exists. Sometimes I forget. I think I grew up in the safest town on the planet; wild animals were a greater threat than any person. I tend to carry that mentality with me, which is good because I don’t live every day in fear… but it’s not entirely realistic. (So to all my moms - I'll be more careful).
Most people in the city try to be inside by nine o’clock at night, just to be safe. The majority of my girlfriends have self-imposed eight o’clock curfews if they're alone. Well, I thought I could outrun anybody that looked scary, and that nobody would mess with a six-footer. Not so. After dinner with some friends I was riding back home along a pretty dark street. I only had to travel a few blocks, so I wasn’t worried. As I was pedaling, I heard a motorcycle slow down behind me. I clutched my bag with my right arm, knowing that sometimes moto drivers snatch purses. Instead of reaching for my bag, the driver put his hand on my leg, letting it run from my hip to my knee. It was a scary feeling – I just kind of froze, then screamed, “no… No, NO!” He looked me dead in the eye and smiled, then veered to the left at the cross street. A surge of panic hit me, but I was fine. Nothing else happened, and I was half a block from our villa. It was a scary moment, though. I felt paralyzed, and I was frustrated that I didn’t have control of the situation. It was a good reminder that I am human, that I don’t have power over the decisions other people make, and that some people are just kind of creepy.
Which leads me to the next odd experience. I’ve been staying with a friend for the week because her roommates are in the states on leave. We were working out on the roof outside her apartment - a little boot camp with Billy Blanks. About fifteen minutes into it, while we were doing some ridiculous leg kick, I noticed a guy sitting on the ledge of the house next door, about ten meters from us. The lot is vacant and dark – no idea why he was there – but he didn’t move, except to swing his legs over the edge of the roof. It would have been an easy jump to the base of our lot, even with the spiraled wire donned with razor blades in place. I don’t blame the guy’s curiosity – I’m sure he had never seen two white girls jumping around on the roof to the sound of a drill sergeant. There are also different cultural norms regarding personal space here… but it was still uncomfortable. So my friend went down and asked the guard to talk to him. I think he left, but I kept eyeing the water heater on top of the house just to make sure he wasn’t hanging out in the shadows. We walked down the steps afterward, discussing the possibilities of a man leaping across the roof – like a Matt Damon movie set in Morocco. Imaginations can make things much worse. But still creepy.