Cambodian Happy Meals - Beat this, MacDonald's

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  Siem Reap, Cambodia
Saturday, August 2, 2008

As Cambodia has stabilized over the last number of years, it is firmly climbing its way back onto the SouthEast Asian backpacker trail.  Older, moneyed tourists who fly into Siem Reap for personalized guided tours of Angkor Wat, can stay in hotels and resorts fit for royality and live like kings.  Backpackers are not left out with a decent supply of cheapish guesthouses and there are always cheap street eats to be had everywhere.  One area that appeals to many backpackers (and if you have backpacked, you know the ones), are the Cambodian "Happy" meals.

Marijuana has been around and used in Cambodian cooking for hundreds of years or longer.  While traditionally used in soups and other dishes, the backpacker phenomenon is largely responsible for the glut of "happy" pizzas, 'happy' shakes, and 'happy' whatever else food backpackers are thought to like.  The original restaurant in Siem Reap is called "Happy Pizza."   When ordering, you state whether you would like your pizza a little happy, medium happy, or very happy

Happy Herb Pizza, Siem Riep

.  Ingesting marijuana is different from smoking it (so they say :), and when eaten, the strength of the effects can be much stronger and last much longer.

Danayi and I had heard about the restaurant and their reputation was for good pizza, happy or not.  We went to the restaurant and ordered, but did not order a "happy" pizza.  Let me state that again for Danayi's mother, and any future employers of mine - WE DID NOT ORDER A HAPPY PIZZA.  It seemed there was a little mix up, and the charming little Cambodian waiter heard "We would a pizza so happy it makes Elmo and the gang from Sesame Street seem like clinically depressed suicide risks."

The pizza was lovely and quickly finished.  Seating across from us was a delightful couple, a Japanese man and his Australian boyfriend now living in Japan.  Our conversation with them seemed to grow more and more fascinating, and I noticed Danayi laughing and being much more gregarious than normal.  Also I noticed my bones felt heavy, but soft, and that was nice.

After paying (did we?) we headed back down the street to the 'strip' of Siem Reap.  As we came into sight of our favourite pastry and ice cream shop, I suddenly realized that despite having just eaten, I was ravenous.  The thought of the sensation of how a brownie, and ice cream, and spring rolls, and danish, and a curry and some cookies and maybe a piece of cheese cake would feel sliding down my throat was almost enough to bring me to tears.  We decided to go upstairs to the all white dining room and lay on the beds that ringed the walls while the staff brought us food on trays.  Can I tell you how comfortable these beds were?

Over the next hour or so, we ploughed our way through about six dishes, aided and abetted by ice coffees and fruit shakes.  Danayi was in the best mood imaginable, and was laughing at everything I said.  I felt like I was the funniest and wittiest man in the world, even if some of the things she laughed at were not necessarily meant as jokes (would it rain tomorrow? Where is my wallet? All A-list material.)

After a little over an hour, I was exceptionally happy.  I sat in a little cloud of my own satisfaction and sensations, sometimes blinking my eyes fast and then slow just to feel how indescribably cool it felt.  It was about this time that things began to go bad for Danayi.  She suddenly leaned over to me, and in a very low and intense voice said "I think I have to go now.  I don't feel good."  Her eyes were wide and almost panicked.  I called for the bill, and stood up, helped Danayi to her feet, and we started for our hotel room.

Once the 'happy' got a hold of us, it wasn't letting go.  While it remained a pleasant, relaxing experience for me, the amount Danayi ingested was clearly too much for her much smaller frame, and her trip was turning bad.  Tears began to flow and whimpers crept out of her as the bed spun, things crawled across the ceiling, and things were just WRONG, a unclear but nonetheless overpowering sense of WRONG.

During the evening and into the night, I played the part of the good boyfriend as best I could.  I held her, cooed to her, assured her nothing was on the ceiling, that I was here, that she was safe, that I would never let anything happen to her.  The only trouble with this was that I, too, was high as a kite.  While Danayi was in her own personal world of misery, I was giggling at jokes I remembered from when I was a kid, or thinking about how cool it would be if you could actually button your belly button to your shirt, and how amazing my fingers looked when I moved them just so.  Then the reality of Danayi's situation would come flooding back, and I was instantly attentive and checking on her, and telling her she was ok, and OOH, look at the way the dust shines in the light, COOOOL!

It was a long night.

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