In Cambodia, a Common Rose

We're in Siem Reap, Cambodia, after a long, LONG flight via Ho Chi Minh City (aka Saigon). We are lying by the pool at our hotel waiting for our room to be prepared. The desk clerk said we had the "James Bond Room," which confused me until I realized he meant No. 007.

The flight went smoothly. I finished two books and an issue of The New Yorker. If you haven't read the article about young people and the culture of live-streaming, go check it out. It was the most confounding thing I've ever read. The idea that people pay money to watch someone go about his or her daily life, for hours, and also come up with numerous (and sometimes dangerous) ways to harass that person -- well, it just makes me realize there's a whole universe of stuff going on out there that I never imagined. And it makes me think, like any old curmudgeon, that the world might just be going to hell.

And also, what is up with people and carry-on luggage? A woman on my flight had FIVE carrry-on bags -- two backpacks, a roller bag and two shopping bags.

But anyway, never mind my grousing -- because we're in Cambodia!

The airports in both Saigon and Siem Reap are gleaming, modern structures -- Saigon's could be pretty much anywhere. I got a bit concerned when my bag wasn't immediately evident on the luggage carousel in Siem Reap, but turns out it just fell off the belt and was lying behind some equipment. A guy from the lost & found desk located it promptly!

The thing in the top photo is a tuk-tuk, the driver of which picked us up from the airport and took us to our hotel. Dave may look concerned, all folded up inside it, but he was hamming it up for the camera -- he was actually very excited to ride in one. The second photo was the view from the tuk-tuk on the way to the hotel. Lots of interesting vehicles on the road!

Soon after we ensconced ourselves here at the hotel pool, this large swallowtail butterfly floated past and landed on a shrub near our chairs. I think it's a type called a "common rose," although I am certainly not an expert on Cambodian butterflies.

I feel dead on my feet, but I'm afraid to go to sleep for fear I won't sleep tonight. So that's the challenge -- staying awake for the next eight hours!

A Backward Glance

I'm posting this updated garden photo both to show you how different it looks now compared to about a month ago, and to remind myself while I'm traveling what's going on at home. It always seems a mixed blessing to leave the garden in summer.

The purple flowers in front are loosestrife, which came into bloom a week or two ago, and you can see behind that our big hydrangea. The pink butterfly bush and blue globe thistles are to the right. The roses, behind the butterfly bush, are almost entirely done -- only one bush is still blooming.

Here's the front porch. I can't complain at all about our zinnias -- they're looking great! And on the right is an African marigold and a dianthus I bought in the early spring that has lasted far, far longer than I ever expected it to. (Did you know, by the way, that the name "marigold" derives from the Virgin Mary? I just read that online somewhere, and since it's on the Internet, it must be true.)

We have a friend who will tend the garden in our absence, so hopefully everything will continue to look good.

Back on June 6, I posted a picture of some random shoes scattered on a concrete step near the high street. Well, the shoe pile is not only still there -- it's GROWN! And there's still only one of each shoe. What is going on here?!

Ponder that mystery. Meanwhile, Dave and I are taking off in a matter of hours on our new adventure.

Someone asked if I will be blogging from Southeast Asia. I intend to, but I have no idea what our Internet connectivity is going to be like -- and obviously we'll be on a completely different timetable. So I can't tell you when a new post will appear. I hope to post daily as usual!

Interval

This is a calendula that we bought from the herb man at the Jester Festival last weekend. (Yeah, I know, it looks a lot like that zinnia I posted about a week ago!) We got two of them -- I put one in the garden and one in a pot in case the garden specimen gets devoured by slugs. Hasn't happened yet, which is a good sign.

We have finally reached the point where all our July social and political obligations have been fulfilled. Now we're just biding our time until we take off tomorrow for Southeast Asia. It still doesn't seem real to me. I haven't even started to pack, but I'm thinking about what to pack -- so I suppose I've started mentally.

Yesterday I never left the house. With Olga already off at her kennel, I don't even have a dog to walk!

Speaking of Olga, her kennel has a webcam feature that allows us to check in on her at any time. When I set it up yesterday, this is what I saw:

Somehow, that's not very comforting. She looks like she's not sure why she's there. That's just her "bedroom," as they call it -- she supposedly also has access to a "private, fully covered exercise area," which I think is through that little doorway at the back. As you can see, she took her bed and her Kong with her.

I think I may have to take this app off my phone. Otherwise I will be compulsively checking on Olga the whole time we're gone.

It looks like a much smaller right-wing response to Friday's anti-Trump march did indeed take place in London yesterday, but it appeared to be less about Trump and more about supporting an English far-right leader who's currently in jail. Isn't it interesting that virtually all of the demonstrators seem to be white men?

Last night we finally watched the charming movie "Lady Bird," which I really liked.

No to Trump -- and Brexit!

I went to the massive, MASSIVE anti-Trump protest in London yesterday. The crowds were YUGE, whether Trump wants to admit it or not, and it was heartening to see so many thousands of people who cared enough to make signs, march and protest.

In the morning, Dave and I went down to Parliament Square to see the "Trump Baby" blimp, with its tiny hands and Tweeting phone, hover over the crowds.

The blimp was minded by "Trump Babysitters" like this one, in the process of being interviewed. There were also pro-Europe flags and ant-Brexit fliers -- for many Londoners Trump and Brexit correctly go hand-in-hand as part of the same wrong-headed global movement.

Then we went back home, and a few hours later I set out for the main march along Regent Street and down to Trafalgar Square. It's roughly the same route followed by the much more glittery LGBTQ Pride parade the weekend before.

Before the marching began, we congregated along Portland Place, where there were speeches by several people (I have no idea who because we couldn't see them) saying something (I have no idea what because none of us could hear them). This dragged on for about an hour, which annoyed a lot of us, but finally we got moving around 3 p.m.

There were many, many creative signs:

I loved how blunt some of the signs were. For every clever slogan ("God Save the Queen from the Rotten Tangerine") and piece of careful artwork, there were signs that said "Piss Off" or "Fuck Off Nazi Punks." I saw one that said "Fuck Off Pee Brain." Somehow these were even more amusing than the clever ones.

And the turnout did not disappoint. Easily tens of thousands of people -- I couldn't even begin to guesstimate how many were there...

...but Trafalgar Square and the surrounding streets were full to overflowing. Surely this must be a record demonstration against any sitting foreign leader.

I met up with our pal Mike and his daughter, Sorren, who also marched, and we all went down to Greenwich for dinner. Dave came down by train to join us, and had a little dust-up with some drunk guys on the train who challenged him over a "Bollocks to Brexit" sticker on his shirt (which he got at the Trump Baby event in the morning). Apparently it turned into a big argument among several people on a train platform which, Dave said, the anti-Brexit group ultimately won. Scary!

I saw no sign of counterprotesters at all, though it's been reported that there will be some kind of right-wing demonstration today. I'm steering clear.

Peacock with Multiple Nightmares

Just as I got on the phone with my mother yesterday, to wish her a Happy 81st Birthday, this butterfly landed on our buddleia outside. It's a peacock, which we hadn't seen yet in the garden this year. So I asked Dave to run for my camera and I had to simultaneously take pictures and keep my mind on my phone conversation. Crazy timing!

Olga livened things up again yesterday by ATTACKING A CAT that wandered into our garden. I was sitting on the couch when I heard a tremendous feline growl and a lot of thrashing around near the back fence. I ran outside to find Olga atop a tortoiseshell cat with a bell on its neck. The cat got away, but Olga chased and caught it again, and shook it in her jaws. I pulled her off it and the cat ran under some bushes. After I secured Olga inside I tried to check on it but it wouldn't let me near, and it vanished a few minutes later. Outwardly it seemed fine. (Miraculously!)

That may be the first time Olga has ever touched a cat, and certainly the first time she's caught one. I hope it never happens again!

Here she is on her walk, looking all innocent, intrigued by this ridiculous pair of shoes we saw in a thrift shop window. She really is a good dog and very friendly -- she's just been presented with some very unusual opportunities within the past few days.

She's off to the kennel today where she will board during our trip.

Anyway, back to my mom. I've decided to visit Florida after all -- I was going to skip it this summer and wait until Christmas, but with Mom getting up there I feel strongly that I should go. So I'm flying back for a week in early August, not long after Dave and I get back from Vietnam.

The Great Orange One has arrived in England, with Melania by his side. There were protests in Regent's Park last night, but Dave and I decided not to go, because we had trouble getting specifics about when and where, and it seemed like Trump was unlikely to be there anyway. We're saving our energy for the big one today. Trump, meanwhile, has already sabotaged Theresa May's Brexit plans and is gunning on behalf of the right-wingers. He's essentially repaying his debt to Nigel Farage. The nightmare, honestly, never ends.

Finally, our upstairs neighbors are refinishing their staircase, which has created our own noise nightmare in our flat. We were driven out yesterday by the incessant, echoing grinding of the sander. We took ourselves -- including Olga -- to the pub for dinner. When we came back at 6:30 p.m. and the neighbor was still at it, we asked him to stop, and he did. But he'll resume this morning. We'll do our best to be gone.

A Traumatized Pigeon, and Other News

It has been quite an active couple of days!

First of all, I gave bookseller John a print of my photo of him and Sugar, his poor departed dog. He pronounced it "a bonzer!" (Apparently that's a good thing -- an Australian term, which is curious because I'm 99 percent sure John isn't Australian.) He propped it up on his book table with some other items of Sugar memorabilia. Sugar's spirit lives on!

On Tuesday night, Dave and I had our friends Gordon and Donna over for dinner. We took the coffee table out into the garden and dined al fresco, enjoying the cool summer evening. Olga provided some excitement when an addled pigeon clumsily tumbled down and landed a few feet away -- she ATTACKED it and got a mouthful of feathers before I pulled her off. The pigeon fluttered away to a corner of the garden, and we concluded something was wrong with it (even before it encountered Olga's jaws). The dog didn't bother it again, and it was gone by morning.

Yesterday, Dave and I went to see "The Happy Prince," Rupert Everett's movie about the last years of Oscar Wilde. It was interesting, and certainly showed the darker sides of Wilde and his erstwhile love, Bosie. Everett's portrayal of Wilde was somewhat grating, but perhaps that's true to the writer's personality. Dave's unsympathetic review: "Were gay people back then really that annoying? No wonder they got arrested!"

Otherwise I've been doing a lot of reading and journal transcribing, which has entailed sitting on the couch and in the garden for hours at a time. (So, OK, not that active.) Things are going to get busier today and tomorrow, with Trump's visit to the UK. Dave and I plan to join anti-Trump demonstrations both days.

Meanwhile, the UK has had its own political chaos this week, with certain conservative members of Theresa May's cabinet -- notably Boris Johnson, London's former mayor -- resigning over Brexit differences. (This damned completely unnecessary Brexit!) I can't pretend to know what it all means, except more Tory infighting. And then England lost its World Cup match last night, which was a heartbreaker.

On a lighter note, it's blackberry season! We have tons of ripening berries on our vines, and I picked this first handful a few days ago.

I just learned that Tab Hunter died last Sunday. I read his fascinating autobiography a little more than ten years ago -- all about being every girl's heartthrob while secretly gay in very closeted '50s Hollywood. Tab was a looker when he was young!

(Top photo: Streetlight shadows in Kennington, South London.)

Other Lives, Another Time

I thought you might like to take a look at a few of the old postcards I picked up the other day at Greenwich Market. I love old postcards because they're usually pretty inexpensive, and the ones that have been sent often tell a story, or at least a small fragment of a story. These were £1 each!

July 1950: "Dear Rosemary, Just a line letting you know we are still going along OK. Having a run around Eastbourne today but weather very squally. Love to all, Mum & Dad."

(Sounds pretty miserable! Mailed from Eastbourne to Laindon, Essex. Dave and I made a quick jaunt to Eastbourne ourselves just a few years ago.)

May 22, 1907: "My Dear Sarah, Ethel and I got home quite safe about 11:30. Oh dear, we had a slow journey. It took us two hours to come from Hudd. to Brad. It was awful stopping between every station. My brother met us. They thought we were going to stay a bit longer, if we had not come by that train they would have given us up. I hope you had a pleasant day at Hope. Bank. Ethel will write letter. Annie"

(Huddersfield to Bradford is 15 miles by car, according to Google, and apparently today's most direct trains take a little more than half an hour. The card was mailed from Silsden, not far from the town of Ilkley, the location of the pictured church -- both are north of Bradford nearer what is now the Yorkshire Dales National Park. I have no idea what "Hope. Bank." could be.)

Sept. 25, 1973: "Just missed seeing you go by a second -- you were just getting into the taxi. Do hope you have enjoyed your holiday and that the weather has been better than it is here. Comfortable in hotel and glad to get away from things. Love from us both, Mary and Douglas."

(Mailed from Bournemouth to Brighton. The pictured pub still exists, outside the village of Hinton between those two cities.)

Aug. 9, 1966: "We are having a nice time. Weather has been lovely. Hope you have a nice holiday. See you when you come home. Lots of love, Mary"

(That Mary -- so wild and witty! Mailed from Castle Douglas, not far from Dumfries, to Pinwherry, a village in Ayreshire, Scotland. It also bears a stamp dated 1977 from the "Postcards and Postmarks Library" in Skegness, where it apparently wound up at some point.)