I dropped in to this cafe in Kuala Lumpur. I was surprised to hear the girls working there speak Khmer. Most wait staff in these parts are from Vietnam or Myanmar. They were equally curious about me when I got them to play some Khmer songs from my phone. There was this one girl, who came to chat with me. Not yet 20, she had left her home to support the education of her younger sibling after both her parents had passed away. Unlike the others in the shop, she was not glued to her smartphone. She said she liked talking to the customers, it helped her learn English and Chinese.
We spoke of life in Cambodia, the recent politics - seems she followed the news online, and the food. I said I missed the food the most. She offered to share her dinner. I accepted. She had made simple chicken porridge, she brought out a bowl and poured out a generous helping, even added a select piece of meat, and pepper and lime.
I am never the one to miss free food. Free food always tastes better. Because more often than not, free food is offered out of love, and there is no better garnish than the affection we share with people who start as strangers, but soon enough we find some connection with them - even if it is something as trivial as mutual liking for an old Khmer song or common interest in latest political gossip from back home.