The title’s long so you may have skimmed the part about my pants and misunderstood. Though this was also the day I was trapped in a very small outdoor bath-shed with an anxious rooster with these pants unable to leave because I’d blatantly ignored a golden-Kim-rule I made weeks ago of “look before I leap”…., I did say SPLIT, not that other thing that rhymes with it. 🙂 And yes, before anyone asks, they were my pretty pretty pants. And if this is the first you’re hearing about them, I’m sad for you and there’s a whole post I really think you should read (link). I still stand by all of the things I said though, but I do now offer to pay a little more for double stitching. Anyway,… RIP pretty pretty pants. RIP.
Well obviously there are EASILY a few dozen base jokes to be made about me splitting my pants but… why make up a joke when there’s so much funny and irony already in the ‘how and why it happened’?
Let’s start with the IRONY…
I wore the pants so I could go into a few temples today. I’ve seen a bunch from the outside since getting to Cambodia weeks ago but I keep forgetting a shirt with sleeves so I haven’t been dressed appropriately to go inside. It’s been killing me to not get to go and today was THE DAY… I dressed politely with pants and a shirt that covered my elbows and everything. I was excited. I was respectful. I was ready. Until I wasn’t. Until I really, really wasn’t. I mean, technically, whenever I’ve seen a “dress polite please” sign, I’m pretty sure I’ve NEVER seen a picture with an X through where the hole in MY pants was (And those signs are VERY thorough with LOADS of pictures)…. So I suppose I could have pointed to said sign and asked where that picture was… But that just didn’t feel,…uhm,… Polite. And even after I’d wrapped a krama* over my (holy) pants and it went down to my knees, it still felt like waving through the window at a person while you’re naked from the waist down (I mean, I think it would have, if I knew what that was like, of course. :))
Now the FUNNY…
FUNNY #1: I split them more than once. I split them the first time bending over to take a ground-up picture of the party animal (see below). Worth it.
I split them the second time doing a lunge of sorts trying to get a different angle for another picture (see below). Bigger split. Potentially still wearable. Still worth it.
I split them their final and absolute time trying to hop onto my bike to bike away from the scene of the crime. As soon as I sat down, it felt breezy. ‘Nuf said.
FUNNY #2 (figuratively, not literally, as already discussed): So I ALWAYS forget to park my bike in the shade. If I had HAD pants when I sat back down on the bike, they would have been hot pants (And for all those that put 2 and 2 together to understand what was hot instead, know this -when you laugh, you don’t cry people. You. Don’t. Cry.).
FUNNY #3: All I wanted as I biked in my krama/pants the 5 kilometers home looking longingly at all the temples I still couldn’t enter, was to NOT run into the German family of 5 that I’ve been seeing almost everywhere since yesterday morning. I’d already seen them twice this morning in my pretty-now-useless-pants and my ‘new look’ wasn’t going to look like a quirky Canadian fashion statement. It was going to look walk of shame. So… of course, who’s in the lobby when I sneak into the side door of the hotel, room key in hand, ready to run the 5 flights up rather than wait for the elevator….? You got it. Danke Schoen.
*A krama is a traditional Cambodian cotton scarf, in a check pattern. It’s been my towel, my head wrap, my shawl and, well, now my walk of shame wardrobe. Once you’ve forgotten where it last was, I’ll post a picture. It’s pretty.