Mad Dogs & Englishmen

Day 1 of house-hunting found me pounding the dusty streets of Phnom Penh checking out locales in the hope of finding somewhere just like North Carlton.

...you can stop laughing now. It was a pretty hot day today, but rather than take a tuk-tuk or moto I decided to walk, partly because you can see more of the neighbourhood, but mainly I guess because i'm English and naturally inept when it comes to hot places. There are some pretty nice area's around the NGO offices near where Em works, but we thought we should look further afield as they're a little bit rich. So, I headed off into the neighbouring hood's to see what was happening. Really surprising how quickly you get out of ex-pat land, this was probably the first place in Phnom Penh where I felt even slightly unwelcome although not at all dangerous. After a few hours of sweaty walking i'd pretty much boiled my brain and was about to catch a moto back when I was suddenly surprised from behind by a dog trying to bite my leg. Luckily for me it was a very small dog and it's mouth didn't open wide enough to take a chunk out of my calf. Still, after half jumping in the air, and running down the street pursued by the little mutt I made a good check to make sure it didn't draw blood. It's funny, I distinctly remember sitting in the travel doctor's office in Melbourne saying "no, no, I really don't think I need Rabies shots".

So, here's the lyrics to Noel Cowards famous song which i'm sure includes all kinds of culturally inappropriate references for this day and age, but pretty well sums up my day.

Mad Dogs and Englishmen

In tropical climes there are certain times of day
When all the citizens retire,
    to tear their clothes off and perspire.
It's one of those rules that the biggest fools obey,
Because the sun is much too sultry and one must avoid
    its ultry-violet ray --
Papalaka-papalaka-papalaka-boo. (Repeat)
Digariga-digariga-digariga-doo. (Repeat)
The natives grieve when the white men leave their huts,
Because they're obviously, absolutely nuts --

Mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the midday sun.
The Japanese don't care to, the Chinese wouldn't dare to,
Hindus and Argentines sleep firmly from twelve to one,
But Englishmen detest a siesta,
In the Philippines there are lovely screens,
    to protect you from the glare,
In the Malay states there are hats like plates,
    which the Britishers won't wear,
At twelve noon the natives swoon, and
    no further work is done -
But Mad Dogs and Englishmen go out in the midday sun.

It's such a surprise for the Eastern eyes to see,
That though the British are effete,
    they're quite impervious to heat,
When the white man rides, every native hides in glee,
Because the simple creatures hope he will
    impale his solar topee on a tree.
Bolyboly-bolyboly-bolyboly-baa. (Repeat)
Habaninny-habaninny-habaninny-haa. (Repeat)
It seems such a shame that when the English claim the earth
That they give rise to such hilarity and mirth -

Mad Dogs and Englishmen go out in the midday sun.
The toughest Burmese bandit can never understand it.
In Rangoon the heat of noon is just what the natives shun.
They put their scotch or rye down, and lie down.
In the jungle town where the sun beats down,
    to the rage of man or beast,
The English garb of the English sahib merely gets a bit more creased.
In Bangkok, at twelve o'clock, they foam at the mouth and run,
But mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the midday sun.

Mad Dogs and Englishmen, go out in the midday sun.
The smallest Malay rabbit deplores this stupid habit.
In Hong Kong, they strike a gong, and fire off a noonday gun.
To reprimand each inmate, who's in late.
In the mangrove swamps where the python romps
    there is peace from twelve till two.
Even caribous lie down and snooze, for there's nothing else to do.
In Bengal, to move at all, is seldom if ever done,
But mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the midday sun.