Back in Battambang we went to see a circus performance one evening. This was put on by a local charity, which teaches performing arts to poor children in rural Cambodia. It was held in a mini-top down a rutted side street on the outskirts of town, but was actually rather good. The first part featured a couple doing a Khmer version of the tango which was extremely acrobatic and involved a woman in a pretty red dress being launched all over the place. Both children were completely entranced; we described her as a princess and throughout the second half, which was a more sombre though equally acrobatic piece, portraying the horrors of war through dance, Meg continually and loudly asked when the princess would be back.
A couple of days later we were in Pailin, a small town on the border with Thailand with a seriously wild west feel about it; it was one of the last Khmer Rouge strongholds. The bike ride there had taken us up and over some hills; nothing too big mind, but hills all the same. Anyway, when we got there we went off to try and find some food and the only place we could find was a huge almost empty restaurant with a stage on which a solitary man was singing some rather tuneless Cambodian ditty to the distinterested few diners. We sat down for dinner and after a while a woman in a dramatically short dress came on stage and started to sing. Meg was entranced. 'It's the princess' she cried and immediately insisted in going up to the (empty) dancefloor and gazing up at her in raptures, whilst doing a few twirls. Mike felt sorry for her so went to cut some moves on the dance floor with her.
Later, when the song finished, Meg followed the singer around the restaurant, still shrieking 'princessssssssss'. The woman looked very pleased. Mike explained to our waiter that Meg thought the singer was a princess at which he gave him a lewd wink and said, 'princess yes, but also good boom boom girl', the local slang for a lady of the night.
After dinner another woman turned up, in an even shorter skirt and a pair of the highest stilettos, accompanying a couple of Russian business men. No prizes for guessing what she was up to, but again Meg was entranced and as soon as the Russians left, she rushed over and they had lots of cuddles.
The moral of the story; princesses come in all shapes and sizes.
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