The Harbour

I have now been in Siem Reap for two months, and I still find myself escaping my comfort zone on a regular basis. Just last night I went to the Harbour, the restaurant reminiscent of Jack Sparrow I mentioned in my last post. Last night was Wednesday, which meant it was open mic night. Open mic at the Harbour is a long stretch of time, during which anyone can come up on stage and grab one of the various instruments set aside for eager musicians. Some people even bring their own. The best, and truthfully only cello player I have ever seen was rocking out on stage next to guitars, drums, banjos, and keyboards. The sounds of each instrument blended together in an extraordinary symphony of passion and devotion to music. 

My intention was to play the drums, but I wanted to ease my way into it. Being a self-taught drummer, I never learned what a time signature was or even how to hold drumsticks properly. Seeing all these guys who have been playing longer than I've been alive was nothing short of intimidating, but I wasn't going to let that stop me. While waiting for my turn, I noticed someone who strongly resembled Connor McGreggor struggling to string a base guitar in the dark. I offered to hold his phone light for him while he performed guitar surgery, and little did I know this would be the beginning of a very interesting friendship. 

I learned that (I'll call him Connor) had been playing the drums for 21 years, played in a band back in England, and knew how to play a variety of other instruments. I even learned of his run-in with a psychedelic steak. Once the surgery was completed, he got up on stage and jumped right in with a bunch of people he had met only the week before. Being a professional musician, he sounded as if this was his band. After a few songs it was my turn to get on stage, and my decision to ease into it had backfired, as the once empty Harbour was filled to the brim. Never having played with other people, I was skeptical I'd be able to play something that jived with the singer, cello and guitar players. Surely enough, as I started playing the keyboardist kept glancing back at me, giving me a look that I couldn't quite decipher but knew resembled disapproval. The guitar player kept flashing 4 fingers at me, which I didn't know meant, "play a 4/4 time signature!" Apparently, I was playing a 6/4 or a 6/3, whatever that means. I thought I played well for what I was playing, even though it didn't quite fit with what else was going on. 

Feeling discouraged, I got off the stage with shame in my eyes, but also pride for having the guts to get up there with such talented musicians. Connor came over and reassured me that I played well, and that even his drumming wasn't always well received there. His girlfriend joined the conversation and taught me some Khmer (which I should know a lot more of at this point). I had come down with a case of the hiccups and Connor had the instant cure. Before I knew it his fingers were covering my ears and nose and I was being ordered to take the biggest gulp I possibly could. Taken off guard, I took the biggest gulp I possibly could and to my surprise, my hiccups were gone.

I told Connor of my relationship with the recording studio in town and he seemed very intrigued. Intrigued enough in fact, that we're scheduled to jam together at the studio tomorrow. So who knows, maybe that band will happen after all. The only way it will is if I keep leaving that comfort zone.