the eagerly anticipated first post about cambodia

Arrived in Phnom Penh on Sunday afternoon. All I could see from the plane were sand-colored roads, houses with red clay roofs, and occasional patches of green. I’m slowly adjusting to the city and the heat. It is hot! I think the average has been 110 the last few days. It cools down in the evening when the clouds roll in, though I have yet to experience a real storm during what is officially the rainy season. Luckily, my work day starts at 7:30am. Did I just write that? Yes, I did and here’s why I don’t mind getting up so early…by 8am the temperature goes up 20 degrees. I’m not exaggerating. And yes, I just wrote a whole paragraph about the weather.

Phnom Penh is definitely a unique city. They call it the Wild West. I’m beginning to learn why…

Traffic

There are absolutely no stop lights in certain parts of the city, especially near my office and guesthouse. On my first day of work, I walked from my guesthouse to the office and had to cross one major intersection during morning rush hour. I tried waiting for a while to see if there would be an opening to cross. There wasn’t. So, I stepped into the street and starting walking, hoping that I wouldn’t get hit by a car, motorbike, or bike. At the same time, of course, five police officers on the other side of the street were watching me stand on the sidewalk for two minutes trying to cross. They might have been laughing at me.

Another aspect of Phnom Penh’s traffic decidedly different from the U.S. is the plethora of motorbikes (“motos”). They are used as the main form of transportation along with cars and tuk tuks. It is amazing how many people fit on the back of a moto. I’m talking about entire families. Even though I thought I wasn’t going to, I got on a moto for the first time ever…and I loved it. Not only is it efficient, but it is fantastic late at night. And by late at night, I mean 9-11pm, when the city is dead. It’s a great way to see the city with the breeze blowing through your hair – instant air conditioning. Now that I’ve been on a moto a couple of times, I feel more confident about not falling off; I don’t even death grip the driver’s shoulder anymore!

Expat Scene

Happy hour seems to be a staple of the expat scene. I went out with a couple of people from work to experience the phnomenon (intentional spelling mistake) for myself. Apparently there are 3 categories of expats who frequent Cambodia: 1) NGO, 2) sexpat, and 3) restaurant/bar owners. I’m sure these don’t require a definition. Then there is another distinction between the expats and backpackers. Can you keep all of this straight? J

The first place we went for drinks was the Foreign Correspondent’s Club or rather, the FCC as it referred to here. According to the Lonely Planet, otherwise known as my bible, the FCC is a must. It’s hugely popular with the expats – I think categories 1 and 2 specifically. There’s a reason the FCC is so popular. It has a fantastic deck overlooking the river, if you can get over the poverty. Without sounding too trite, it’s hard to ignore the beggars, especially the little kids playing in the mud waiting with their families for the tourists to spill out onto the sidewalks. Or the little kids who come into the bars and restaurants where the expats frequent to ask you to buy a rose, kids that is that usually work for an adult or sometimes even a pimp. You can’t ignore it – the poverty, the income disparity, yet you have to and I can’t help but think that there is something else we (meaning the expats) can do. What that is, however, I’m not sure…

After drinks at the FCC, we headed to Lake, a backpacker haven. Some backpackers apparently don’t ever leave Lake. Lake is a series of guesthouses clustered throughout several alleys, some with a deck right on the…lake. Huge surprise, right? The Lake is also the home of the happy pizza. You’ll have to look that one up for yourself. But you’ll be happy to know that I didn’t partake in the happy pizza. That would totally contradict my good girl image.

Bugs

Without complaining too much, although I am kind of complaining by saying this, I am getting eaten alive by mosquitoes. I have 8 bites on my right shoulder. My right shoulder! Counting the number of bites on my legs would be fruitless. Fortunately I have invested in travel insurance so if I need to be evacuated for some mosquito-infection, I am good to go. I have started slathering insect repellant on my body every morning, which helps…that is, if the deet doesn’t kill me first. I saw my first cockroaches and ants as well. Not to mention a huge rat. Good times, no? But I didn’t scream and for that, I’m quite proud of myself.