Emile is my hero, the quintessential bar owner in Cambodia. He takes no crap from anyone, but dishes it out like a true champion of grungehole bardom. Any bar owner who smashes a guy in the head while holding a baby in one arm is a mighty warrior of the tap in my book. Hero, villian, sinner or saint, it matters not, for he is a barang bar owner in Cambodia. There is NOTHING more colorful than HE. Who would you rather have a chat with, Emile or some NGO fucktard "doing good for Cambodia" who will be gone when their CV-ticket is punched in the appropriate place? Emile will still be here long after they are back drinking their lattes and getting ooohs and ahhs from people as they entertain them with their tales of not bathing regularly.
Emile will be serving his brew, living his life with his Khmer family (and baby boxing partner), providing endless hours of entertainment, all for the price of one lousy Anchor. And why is this?
For he is NO LONGER BARANG, but Khmer in soul if not in skin...
...and he is my brother.
Emile will be serving his brew, living his life with his Khmer family (and baby boxing partner), providing endless hours of entertainment, all for the price of one lousy Anchor. And why is this?
For he is NO LONGER BARANG, but Khmer in soul if not in skin...
...and he is my brother.
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