On the streets where we live

 Anecdotes of life in Phnom Penh  

Recently we headed off to the Electricity Office to pay a bill we had discovered quite by accident in a plastic bottle zip tied to a screen door downstairs- a place bills have never been before. It had our address on it so away we went, even though we were quite sure we did not owe anything. Once we arrived, we went from window to window and upstairs and back down but accomplished our mission. This is the price you pay for not speaking the local language and we didn’t mind at all. By the time we were told that it was someone else’s bill we were about to pay, Ian had already established that, but we thought we knew whose, so instantly decided that when the grand total of both bills was only a few dollars and that day was the expiry date, we’d just pay it anyway. Why our address and someone else’s name is on the bill is a mystery we are yet to solve but no harm done and good karma has a way of coming back to you too. 

Whilst heading to our next errand I decided to help myself to the flowers among the cuttings of the tropical plants in a plaza area nearby, mad old woman that I am. The worker, who had been piling them up, was delighted and came over with her knife to help me cut them to a shorter length. I thanked her and she smiled back. Even after clearing garden beds in the heat she was happy to assist and glad I wanted them. No words were spoken but it made my day. There’s that karma bouncing back I thought. 

One evening a couple of weeks ago in what I refer to as the pub, I watched as the always bubbly and accomodating waitress silently slid from beaming confidence to surprise and denial and finally into deflated. A customer had confronted her because he apparently had misinterpreted what she had said in response to a question from him. It really threw her. I have admired this gal often. She is sassy and engaging and attentive too. She shares friendly banter with older men, who drink alone, laughs loudly with local women who engage with her as a break from conversing in English with the expat partners they accompany and generally tries to make people feel at ease as well. Eventually, I had an opportunity to chat with her and see her smile return. No one likes a confrontation Khmer less than anyone. 

Speak out sisters - we are all in this together. 

KAMPOT REVISITED

It’s always a joy to take the train to Kampot. The experience is reminiscent of a bygone era. We always hope for the non aircon carriage just so we can open the windows and take photos but it doesn’t always work that way. 

After exiting the city through humble dwellings perched precariously close to the tracks and seeing a perspective of inner city life we would otherwise not be privy to, the vistas expand into extensive lotus ponds and at this time of year after the monsoon rains they were full to bursting with lotus in full bloom, a proliferation of newly emerging buds and dense leaf coverage. 

The visual then expands into back view the factories, old temples, dirt tracks and tiny villages and vast expanses of lush green rice paddies some of which are almost ready for harvesting now. There is one stretch of the track that we find spectacular. With a back drop of mountains and ponds and paddies bordered with coconut and sugar palms and plenty of birds skimming the water or wading in it or perching on overhead wires, it seems nothing has changed for a millennium or two. 

Within four hours you have arrived in Kampot station and are surrounded by two to three times the number of willing tuk tuk drivers for the meagre number of passengers disembarking. 

A quick spin downtown in your selected vehicle or in our case the tenacious individual who herded us away and seemed to talk non stop without drawing breath for the entire ride. 

Time to hit the streets and revisit old favourite hang outs, make new discoveries and catch up with old mates while enjoying the company of those who have accompanied you on this little jaunt. 

We indulged ourselves with a short stay in a hotel we have long loved for its friendly staff and sumptuous meals but never before stayed in. If you haven’t already let me encourage you to choose The Old Cinema Hotel. I can’t recommend it highly enough. It’s affordable and yet luxurious with an old world charm oozing from the art deco decor. 

The staff are friendly and attentive without being overbearing or pushy. The attention to detail in drink and food service is incredible and the menu extensive enough to satisfy even fussy eaters with dietary restrictions and preferences like our small gathering. We loved the Gin Club and other cocktails and the share platters of food, but there is a lot more on offer as well. 

Kampot abounds in quirky little cafés, shopping outlets and fascinating architecture - old, dilapidated, restored, renovated, repurposed and new. Take a stroll through the backstreets and enjoy the juxtapositions and jumble of styles of it all. It’s quiet and calm while still having an upbeat ‘happening place’ vibe about it. Old Market street offers some of the best and worst of Cambodian and Barang style hospitality but there is a lot more to K/pot than that one street. It has pockets of true Khmer culture and a young bohemian counter culture and everything in between coexisting happily together.

 

No it’s not paradise. There are issues and development and conflicts and challenges but if you can’t find something that truly fascinates or delights you then you simply can’t be trying. Without a doubt we will be back. Truth be told we already have another booking to return. We have never failed to make new discoveries and still relish revisiting old favourites. Somehow it also never seems possible to leave without making a purchase or two either but how could you call yourself a tourist or traveller if you didn’t support the local businesses? 

And for one final plug if you are vain enough to need a 
particular hairstyle you can’t beat Mony Saloon anywhere in the Kingdom of Wonder. So there it is in a nutshell if you haven’t yet visited The Pot do yourself a favour.

on the streets where we live

“I need an update on the state of the crèche.” I make this request when I spot Ian peering into the street below from the terrace. We now know the 4WD ute, parked in the street just below our place every evening, operates as a child minding service. The children who often occupy it happily skylark, shout, play and eat instead of being on the road. I was sorry to know clamps were being removed from it by the police early one morning but glad that this run of local businesses with young, working women have a small, safe urban playground for their children and a grannie who oversees and engages those children, at least until their own grannies arrive to take them home. That’s the primary use for the back of the ute. There are always at least three and sometimes many more kids so while it might not be ideal it’s better than nothing and certainly an ingenious solution to a problem that is not going anywhere anytime soon.

There is a foreigner who walks these streets daily: something we also do but with very different intent. We have spotted him while returning home from the market in the early morning, wandering back from a riverside stroll and on our way to and from many local places we frequent. He looks clean and pretty well dressed and often has one arm in a makeshift sling, created from a krama. Several times in the late afternoon we have noticed him quickly scoop something up and stash it in the sling. Finally we realized he was taking the offerings made at the temporary, street side altars many local businesses set up on the footpath, at the entrance or on a table nearby, for their businesses. It’s a daily practice and no one really seems to react or mind that he does this. “Is he really destitute?” I hear the naysayer in me ask. Some mornings he is out wandering without his sling and at least a couple of times we have seen him quietly sharing a beer with a mate in one of the many bars nearby, as we ourselves have been known to do. I’m not judging. It’s just an enigma. 

Recently a friend enlightened us about the wobbly financial scenarios many young Khmer are entangled in. There are tales of exploitation by loan sharks, accountants taking advantage of the loop holes and minimum transparency in the banking system and dubious community based financial arrangements between locals. In a society where so many are financially vulnerable or locked into generational poverty, this kind of predator behaviour sickens me. Financial literacy which might help avoid those kinds of traps and help people see the inherent danger in over burdening themselves with loan repayments, isn’t easily accessed and no doubt costs money those who need it most can’t afford. I’m no wiz kid on the financial management front myself and tend to oscillate between absolute frugality and unnecessary indulgence. However I do realize one can get into very difficult financial situations by refusing to compromise about what is actually affordable. Realistically the micro finance business is unscrupulous and leaves people with debts they might not be able to pay off before the next financial crisis hits.  That situation won’t negate the debt and so the spiral begins. 

Observation from the Aerie 17/10

Tonight I stood on the back balcony and saw several other women doing the same - community. 

I was glad to feel connected. I can see life returning to the apartment blocks surrounding us after a short hiatus, but truth be told, as much as I love the silence when mass exodus occurs and residents retreat to the provinces for festival time with family, it’s the returning to life that fills me with joy: the reinstating of the norm. 

An agitated teenage girl standing on the narrow ledge of the back balcony, staring into the closed shutters of home, after her mother had tried to calm her down and then closed the door to give her solitude, a sarong wrapped young mum with wet hair hanging out a towel with a crying child at the doorway, a gran still rocking in the hammock, a housewife glancing skyward as she brings in the laundry! Me too. I just did that. No monsoon storms tonight. 

Standing in shared space, acknowledging each other’s presence with nods and smiles, thinking, ‘This is a privilege!’ 

“I hear and I know, I see and I remember, I do and I understand.” I always thought it was Piaget but Google tells me it was Confucius. 

Rent is unaffordable in many places around the globe. Homelessness is on the increase right now. Humanity is turning on itself and discontent is at an all-time high it seems sometimes, but to simplify, actually helps. Look for the harmony, the humanity, the connectivity.