Phnom Penh

Cambodia bills itself as the Kingdom of Wonder. It seems a very appropriate word in all its meanings. Cambodia makes you wonder in every sense of the word. From killing fields to Kingdoms of the Gods. From sleek Lexus tanks to wooden carts crammed with large coconuts. From swanky shopping boutiques to stinking sewars. The ugly and the beautiful fused awkwardly together rubbing along side by side. This is Cambodia. It truly is the kingdom of wonder and it is compelling viewing.

It is a relatively small country but with a big heart. The average wage for a hard day's work is probably much less than you would pay for a pint of beer. The rich do very well and the poor, well they just survive. From the sparkling to the seedy, the sleek to the sickening here is a city that bubbles with surprises.
It was around 6:30pm. The waiter had just plonked down my second cold beer onto my streetside table. I had immersed myself in a newspaper. As I glanced casually upwards amidst the lights and flashes or the motorbikes, cars and tuk-tuks I noticed a very large dark shape which caused me to do a double take and reassess the effect and strength of the beer I was consuming. There was a giant elephant nonchalantly plodding along right in front of my nose. Only in Phnom Penh, you might say. Here is a city where so much collides together in one place.

But the thing that I liked about Phnom Penh was that you could really see so much in such a short time. There was plenty to wonder at. It only required a weaving motorbike ride from one part of the city to another. A sleek black luxury car beside the grubby cripple desperately crawling through the dust and dirt of the streets pawing at passers by. Another cripple wriggles along like a severed worm. The city feels like a labyrinthe with multiple entrances and you can never enter all of them simultaneously.
Phnom Penh pulsates with same relentless flow and drive of the Mekong River. It wearies you and it beguiles you. The orange flashes of monks. A limbless beggar hobbles to your feet. Children playing merrily. Bright vivid bouginvillea flowers and gleaming gold palaces. The high rise skyscrapers and the the flimsy rotting wooden shacks. There was always something to make you raise an eyebrow in passin or cast a second glance. The city owned a defiant vibrancy and from the seat of a motorbike you really felt like part of its momentum.
I glanced across at the motorbike next to me. The man had a wide basket strapped to the back. Looking more closely at the basket's contents becasue they apperaed to be moving I confirmed that there were several large piglets snuggled together inside. On another motorbike I ocunted six human bodies squeezed together. Another maniac motorbike driver charging up the street on the wrong side. I watched someone get half run over.
The people without homes could be seen eating off the streets with the scavenging dogs. They washed their children outside while the women huddled into a corner of shade to cook or just sit. Children fending for scraps just across the road from the golden royal palace.

Another morning stroll, another bombardment of enthralling images. The World Toilet Association (no I didnt know there was such a thing but there is and it is based in South korea for some reason)were financing the construction of some proper public toilets. There looked a long way to go. A discarded pair of 'Dior' heels lie abandoned in the sandy dust. A man borrows a stool over a motorbike to help himself over a barrier which had been implemented to stop motorbikes clogging up the pavements.

And the hasslers can wear you down.
A news report in the Phnom Penh post caught my eye recently concerning the cold weather:
"The temperature hovered between 13 and 16 degrees Celsius and even dropped to a frosty 8 to 11 degrees during the night. This is the coldest year ever.
"People are wearing sweaters, gloves, hats and socks both during the day and even in the night to keep them warm. The Red Cross has had to supply sweaters to some parts..."
And I remember cycling in roughly similar temperatures in the far north of Scotland in the middle of July and the locals told me what a warm summer it was. Everything is relative, I suppose.
At the time of writing they were planning to launch a stock exhange here in Cambodia's capital. I wonder what Pol Pot and his brothers would have made of that.

I will write more on Cambodia when I can, but soon I shall be entering another mysterious country, Burma.