And should I be creeped out or impressed by you knowing that?
I had dinner at Bryan’s house earlier tonight, and after a nice long discussion about the US primaries and one of the few homemade meals that I’ve had all year, I walked down the block to get a moto back to my house. I got on a bike and started telling the driver where to go, to which he kept interrupting, saying, “I know, I know.” “Are you going home?” he asked. Sure enough, I started giving directions but stopped once I realized that he was already making the correct turns before I could finish telling him where to go. When we got to the tunnel outside my apartment, he must have seen the surprise in my face. “I told you I knew where you lived, Andrew,” he said to me as I got off the back of his bike.
The area where Bryan lives and where I picked up the ride is near Buntha’s usual hang-out. I’ve gotten to recognize and casually know a couple of his motodop friends, but the thing is that I don’t think he was one of those guys. I certainly didn’t recognize him. I have no idea how he knew my name or where I lived, and I was a little weirded out but also pleasantly reminded about how much Phnom Penh can still operate like a small town.