Honey we D.I.D it so Fine

As Honey our host led us up the dimly lit stairs she told us what to expect every step of the way. We followed close behind, walking up in single file holding onto each other's shoulder. I started to feel a little anxious. Just before going up, I'd dashed into the toilet one last time ... like a child does before a long road trip. Will did the same, followed by Peuv.

The three of us are friends but have only known each other for some months and decided we wanted to share this experience and to take our friendship to a whole new level of closeness and maybe even some discomfort.

As we got to the landing at the top of the stairs, Honey told us to be ready for total darkness. I asked her if other guests felt afraid. She said yes, many did, but they also went onto enjoy themselves.

We stepped into blackness so complete that there was not even a tiny sliver of light. I closed my eyes. I opened them. Repeated this a couple of times. The darkness was exactly the same - no difference between eyes open or shut. It felt unbelievable that we could be in a space so pitch black that no matter how long we stayed and we were there for more than 2 hours and long after our eyes had adjusted, the density of darkness didn't change. No light entered it.

We had come to experience dinner together at the Dine in the Dark (DID) restaurant in Phnom Penh.

Honey cared for us, brought us our meals and fed us many interesting stories. She is one of 4 visually impaired restaurant waitstaff at DID. Although 'visually impaired' is often the politically correct term to use, I personally think blind is more accurate because it is a harder word. To not have sight or to lose it at some point is to be dealt a tough blow in life. That has got to be hard. You and I who can read this can only imagine not being able to see and dining for one night in darkness is something we do as a novelty and by choice. It may help us become more empathetic with how a blind person feels but we'll never know their struggle in daily life.

Honey's real name is Sinat but she was given the nickname which has stuck. It suits her. She is sweet and charming and speaks in dulcet tones that feel like warm honey and even broke out into song in her lilting voice at Will's request.

Holding on to us Honey first sat us down one by one into our seats and asked us to feel for our cutlery and glasses directly ahead on the table. She poured the red wine we had chosen and over the course of the dinner, she kept topping our glasses up.

Will, Peuv and I couldn't stop laughing and talked loudly. We noticed other guests were doing the same and our hearing had become more sharply tuned in the absence of sight, as the active senses tend to. We wanted to start the evening with a toast and placed one hand each on the table and fumbled around until we found one another's so we could hold them. With the other hand, we brought our glasses in and clinked somewhere in the middle or so we thought as we kept asking each other to confirm who was holding whom and what.

Honey brushed up against our side gently to get her spatial bearings each time she put down a plate of food. DID serves a 3 course surprise menu which makes for interesting sensory guesswork. The restaurant serves up to 30 guests each night and Honey told us that when she gets busy and can't stop to chat for too long, she introduces diners to each other who will start off by saying things like 'nice to feel you' or 'good to hear you'.

'Are you eating already' Will asked me when I didn't say anything for a couple of minutes. I was, but guilty for being caught I stopped immediately. We paused to inhale the scents together and compare our findings. The aromas were delicious and of many varieties. Butter sauce, garlic, fried peppers; we were able to pick these quickly to our delight. We used the cutlery but ate mostly with our hands so we could feel the different textures. We thought crispy egg was fish to start with, green beans, radish and cucumbers got mixed up, the grilled apple we couldn't identify straightaway. Peuv lost her fork and found it at the end of the meal resting against the edge of her plate.

Honey was born blind and abandoned soon after at the pagoda in a provincial Cambodian town. An NGO brought her up; she loved going to school and would walk herself to classes. She loved to play too, even the jumping and skipping games though one time misjudging the height, she took a leap down and broke her toes. Living in her small town and being familiar with people and places, she was able to manage well.

These days she takes a moto (motorbike taxi) to get to Pannasastra University where she's in her final year of a B.A in TESOL and Literature. Phnom Penh as a city Honey says is not geared for people with disabilities and she can't walk around which she'd prefer to do.

A Japanese NGO offered Honey a place in a 10 month program to develop skills for living independently which took her to Tokyo, Osaka and Hiroshima. She was given an apartment where she lived by herself and learnt to cook Japanese food. Honey took public transport, studied the Japanese language and even experienced skiing with her instructor who took her down the slopes holding on to her hand. Though she fell many times, she loved it.

Will invited Honey to come and join the community choir that he leads which she was excited about and accepted.

Peuv said that from the moment we sat down, even though she couldn't see either of us, she strongly felt our energetic presence.

I felt closeness to both Will and Peuv and that we had a really meaningful evening together. It felt disconcerting to start with and joyful as it went on, thanks in large parts to the sparkle that Honey brought to our evening. Instead of being sad about her circumstances, I came away in awe of her courage and dynamism.