Papa left my side and hurried down the steps. “Here, let me help you,” he said, offering the old sweeper his arm. “Thank you, Neak Ang Mechas,” the sweeper said, using Papa’s full title, which meant he knew who Papa was. But how? On a few occasions during our journey people had turned to stare upon hearing us speak in the royal language. Papa had suggested that we should speak in normal Khmer as much as possible so as not to draw attention to ourselves.
