If you bored with the same old roast dinners around town on a Sunday, do what some of the locals do and head across the Japanese bridge to Preak Leap. Here you can enjoy a lazy Sunday at one of the many stilted restaurants on the Mekong.
They are wooden constructions and many have no tables, just sections where four or more hammocks surround a mat. After getting comfortable,(that's an art in itself!) someone will bring out a tray of soft drinks and beer. You only pay for what you drink and can top up anything that is short supply. The staff will pop round every so often to fill up the ice in your drinks, as very few have fridges to cool down the beer. For the big spenders it seemed to be the thing to buy a bottle of Johnny Walker and mixers whilst enjoying the gentle breeze from the Mekong.
As it is on the river, the main dishes served on the menu are fish based and these are recommended but there are also many pork and chicken dishes cooked up in the local Khmer fashion. Nearly all the dishes are served on a type of charcoal hot plate with raw vegetables on the side. Those of us lucky enough to have an attentive Khmer girl in the party will find they finish off the cooking process and serve you up a great meal. There is of course, enough rice to sink a battleship served with whatever you order, it just wouldn't be Cambodia otherwise.
To make things more (or less) entertaining most of these places have huge karaoke systems set up and if you can stand it, will keep any Khmer girls with you occupied for a time, while you sleep off your lunch in a hammock. Be warned though, sometimes the alcohol will take affect and you may well find yourself the main wailing attraction! There are not many foreigners that go to these places, so for the Cambodians, watching one try and usually fail to sing, is great fun.
To get there and have a tuk-tuk wait for you costs around $8. They always try for more but offer them a beer or two and it works out cheaper. As for the cost of the food, it works out a great deal at $20 for four of us including the beer. The karaoke is extra but two hours on it will only add a couple of dollars to the bill, unless you are fined for noise pollution!
Sunday 28 December 2008
Friday 26 December 2008
CHRISTMAS DAY 2008; PREY VENG PROVINCE, 60 MILES EAST OF PHNOM PENH
This is part of the jungle track, through banana plantations, that we travelled along to reach the village of Sreivon's family. Her brothers met us at the Neak Luong ferry and drove us the ten miles or so on the back of their moto's. Her eldest brother, who I had met before in Kandal province drove me, as he was considered the strongest one to carry me!! I am sure the locals must have got wind that there was a 'hairy monkey' in town as the track was lined on both sides with children and adults waving, smiling and laughing at my attempts to stay seated on the back of the moto without falling off! We had to cross three river beds, the approaches to which, were very steep and muddy; we, of course, got stuck in the mud twice but there were plenty of kids around to push us through.
It is difficult to describe the Khmer people without jumping up and down on a spring-board of emotions. Their smiles will lift your spirit and then their stories will send you crashing. This is a nation of survivors. From one of the darkest periods of history, they have emerged blinking into the light of hope. Whether or not the inhabitants of Prey Veng know it, they are the subject of nationwide sympathy due to its reputation as being one of the most poverty stricken provinces in the kingdom. I would never have guessed this from the welcome and generosity I experienced here.
My home for the night, 25th December, 2008.
The next door neighbour; the house of one of Sreivon's brothers.
Eighty-five per cent of Khmers live off the fat of the land. They are generally farmers, as with Sreivon's family, weavers or fishermen, with the majority wet-rice cultivators. Family is the core and familial bonds are very strong. The family unit normally extends far and beyond the immediate members to encompass cousins,second cousins, aunts, great aunts and so on.
Food is incredibly important. Not just because Cambodians know what it is like to be without, but because it acts as a means of connection. In Cambodia, physical displays of affection are awkward and almost non-existent, except between pals of the same sex. Therefore a mother will show her adoration for her son through a well cooked meal; a soup instead of a hug; a well grilled fish instead of a kiss.
For the older generations, faith is very important and regular trips to shrines to make offerings and to pray are still part of their regular activities. Much food was laid out in front of a small shrine by the house and incense burners were lit at regular intervals throughout the day. This is still very much a traditionalist country. Old customs are practised and values maintained.
More views across the paddy fields; dusk Xmas day 2008. Bitten to death by the ubiquitous mosquito but worth a but of itching!
The view from the house; dawn 26th December 2008.
Underneath the house serves as a storage area, home of the porker and a table to prepare and eat meals on. It also provides some much needed shade from the sun.
Huge porker!!
Little porkers next to the shower area.
Pork scratchings for a year!
The next six pictures are of various nieces and nephews in the family; I suspect that none of them had ever seen a white person before as they were very interested in my filmstar like appearance! When I had a 'shower', they all gathered around and laughed at my attempts to wash myself whilst trying to keep the sarong in place around my lower body! Water was pumped from the well by one of the brothers, collected in a sauepan like container and then I would tip that over my head and wash myself; sounds simple, but of course I am considerably bigger than these people and the sarong just about covered what was needed, much to the amusement of what now was a huge crowd of villagers who had come to watch. I felt a bit like Bruce Parry, from the television series 'Tribe', and once again despite my slight embarassment, I could not help but join in the laughter. The Khmers' live-for-the-moment attitude is what makes them so much fun. Walking past a group of Khmers who burst into raucous laughter might make you paranoid that they are making fun of you- they are. Taking the mickey out of others is a national sport ( Digs; you would be at home here! ), and their wit is as fast as a moto speeding through Phnom Penh. They love a good laugh, so if you ever come here make sure to pack your sense of humour!!! One small boy spent ages simply pulling the hair on my arms in amazement and wonder. That's a shower I won't forget!
Sreivon and her daughter Lisa, Xmas afternoon stroll by the Mekong.
Small fish similar to sardines are caught in these nets and these we had fried in chilli oil and coriander.
The fishing boat shared by the village moored on the banks of the Mekong, five minutes from Sreivon's house.
Believe it or not all the cooking was done on a very small homemade stove. Four rocks made a sort of oven, fuelled by wood from the jungle. We had fried fish, shrimps, chicken, eel, vegetables, pigs intestines ( not too keen on them!) and of course mountains of rice.
Fresh water crabs cooked in garlic and lime juice with Kampot pepper; Cambodian prawn cocktail!
Preparing food for dinner using the only source of clean water from the well.
Sreivon invited me to spend Xmas day with her family which I of course accepted graciously although she was worried that I would struggle to cope with the heat; there is no fan and no air conditioning here.
I am still not really sure who is related to who but that doesn't matter, everyone I met treated me like a long lost friend. This, and the next two pictures are the brothers and relations of Sreivon. Not one of them spoke any English but after a few Angkor beers that didn't seem to really matter. They took to me in a big way and we had many a toast to anything and everything!
Brothers-in-arms! Sreivon's eldest brother, hugging me, and the two other brothers are immediately to my left. This is exactly what I wanted to experience on this journey; something the normal tourist would never see. I could not have had better company than this on Xmas day.
It is difficult to describe the Khmer people without jumping up and down on a spring-board of emotions. Their smiles will lift your spirit and then their stories will send you crashing. This is a nation of survivors. From one of the darkest periods of history, they have emerged blinking into the light of hope. Whether or not the inhabitants of Prey Veng know it, they are the subject of nationwide sympathy due to its reputation as being one of the most poverty stricken provinces in the kingdom. I would never have guessed this from the welcome and generosity I experienced here.
My home for the night, 25th December, 2008.
The next door neighbour; the house of one of Sreivon's brothers.
Eighty-five per cent of Khmers live off the fat of the land. They are generally farmers, as with Sreivon's family, weavers or fishermen, with the majority wet-rice cultivators. Family is the core and familial bonds are very strong. The family unit normally extends far and beyond the immediate members to encompass cousins,second cousins, aunts, great aunts and so on.
Food is incredibly important. Not just because Cambodians know what it is like to be without, but because it acts as a means of connection. In Cambodia, physical displays of affection are awkward and almost non-existent, except between pals of the same sex. Therefore a mother will show her adoration for her son through a well cooked meal; a soup instead of a hug; a well grilled fish instead of a kiss.
For the older generations, faith is very important and regular trips to shrines to make offerings and to pray are still part of their regular activities. Much food was laid out in front of a small shrine by the house and incense burners were lit at regular intervals throughout the day. This is still very much a traditionalist country. Old customs are practised and values maintained.
More views across the paddy fields; dusk Xmas day 2008. Bitten to death by the ubiquitous mosquito but worth a but of itching!
The view from the house; dawn 26th December 2008.
Underneath the house serves as a storage area, home of the porker and a table to prepare and eat meals on. It also provides some much needed shade from the sun.
Huge porker!!
Little porkers next to the shower area.
Pork scratchings for a year!
The next six pictures are of various nieces and nephews in the family; I suspect that none of them had ever seen a white person before as they were very interested in my filmstar like appearance! When I had a 'shower', they all gathered around and laughed at my attempts to wash myself whilst trying to keep the sarong in place around my lower body! Water was pumped from the well by one of the brothers, collected in a sauepan like container and then I would tip that over my head and wash myself; sounds simple, but of course I am considerably bigger than these people and the sarong just about covered what was needed, much to the amusement of what now was a huge crowd of villagers who had come to watch. I felt a bit like Bruce Parry, from the television series 'Tribe', and once again despite my slight embarassment, I could not help but join in the laughter. The Khmers' live-for-the-moment attitude is what makes them so much fun. Walking past a group of Khmers who burst into raucous laughter might make you paranoid that they are making fun of you- they are. Taking the mickey out of others is a national sport ( Digs; you would be at home here! ), and their wit is as fast as a moto speeding through Phnom Penh. They love a good laugh, so if you ever come here make sure to pack your sense of humour!!! One small boy spent ages simply pulling the hair on my arms in amazement and wonder. That's a shower I won't forget!
Sreivon and her daughter Lisa, Xmas afternoon stroll by the Mekong.
Small fish similar to sardines are caught in these nets and these we had fried in chilli oil and coriander.
The fishing boat shared by the village moored on the banks of the Mekong, five minutes from Sreivon's house.
Believe it or not all the cooking was done on a very small homemade stove. Four rocks made a sort of oven, fuelled by wood from the jungle. We had fried fish, shrimps, chicken, eel, vegetables, pigs intestines ( not too keen on them!) and of course mountains of rice.
Fresh water crabs cooked in garlic and lime juice with Kampot pepper; Cambodian prawn cocktail!
Preparing food for dinner using the only source of clean water from the well.
Sreivon invited me to spend Xmas day with her family which I of course accepted graciously although she was worried that I would struggle to cope with the heat; there is no fan and no air conditioning here.
I am still not really sure who is related to who but that doesn't matter, everyone I met treated me like a long lost friend. This, and the next two pictures are the brothers and relations of Sreivon. Not one of them spoke any English but after a few Angkor beers that didn't seem to really matter. They took to me in a big way and we had many a toast to anything and everything!
Brothers-in-arms! Sreivon's eldest brother, hugging me, and the two other brothers are immediately to my left. This is exactly what I wanted to experience on this journey; something the normal tourist would never see. I could not have had better company than this on Xmas day.
Friday 19 December 2008
FILMSTAR!!!
Last night I went to a place called the Riverside Cafe. As the name suggests it is on the the main drag beside the Tonle Sap, on Sisowath Quay; an area largely frequented by tourists from all over the world. It is a managed/owned by a German couple and is similar, I suppose to the Waterfront on Plymouth Hoe. The food is exceptional, albeit a bit pricey for Cambodia and the uniformed bar girls are both attentive and certainly easy on the eye!
I talked to a Belgian guy at the bar who has been coming to Cambodia for the last ten years and he told me how things had changed drastically in that time and become more expensive as the Khmers cashed in on the dollar rich Westerners.
A band from the Phillipines serenaded four Chinese tourists; Doug from Austin, Texas, arrived and ordered German sausages with fried potatoes; I played pool with three Swedish girls; an Argentinian ageing hippie talked loudly and drunkenly to himself whilst the German owner threw out a very drunk Khmer soldier. A cosmopolitan bar without a doubt.
I ate a beef curry and rice, washed down with an ice cold Angkor beer. Replete and rather tired after a very long walk earlier in the day I decided to go to the Zeppelin Cafe to see Mr. Jun and listen to some decent music for a while. It was now about 9.p.m. so I decided to get a moto to take me there. The moto is my preferred mode of transport at this time of the day; it seems a bit safer than in daylight hours and when approaching one of the many crossroads the driver can usually see any other traffic that might be heading his way. Of course there is a bit of an added problem when the drivers don't turn their lights on, and that, believe it or not, happens often! The moto drivers are incredibly persistant to the point of being damn annoying sometimes. It never ceases to amaze me how they operate. I am convinced some of them never sleep; at all hours of the night they will be strategically placed outside the night life hotspots ready to ambush you as you walk out into the dimly lit streets. Normally they hunt in packs of seven or eight, all sat in a line. As you walk toward them one or more will ask you, "Moto Sir, you want massage, lady". I always smile back at the first one and decline the offer. Then the second one who is literally beside me and has obviously heard me say no, asks the same question! This is repeated all the way along the line and on every corner and junction of the streets. Even as I get off the moto that takes me to the Zeppelin Cafe, before my feet have touched the ground, another driver will screech to a halt and ask if I want a moto!!! Crazy!
Two Dutch guys are at the bar and have requested some Neil Young, so we listen to Rust Never Sleeps followed by an hour of Budgie! It is quiet tonight so I decide to go and meet Sreivon from work at the Golden Vine. She has phoned me to say that she will finish early. All the girls are contracted to work until 2.a.m. but if they pay the owner a $5 'bar fine', they can leave at any time after 11.p.m. She is hungry so we have a snack at one of the countless roadside eateries and get a tuk-tuk with Mr. Fixit back to my hotel.
Something is obviously going on as the roads aroung the Dara Reang Sey hotel are all blocked off and a crowd of one hundred or more has gathered at the intersection right outside my hotel. It is very dark and difficult to see exactly what has happened but we manage to push our way through the crowd and start to walk across the road. Well imagine a scene similar to that of a prisoner trying to escape but being lit up by two huge searchlights; we stop in our tracks and are blinded by the lights as a man holding a clapper board emerges from the shadows and starts shouting at us in German!! I look up and see a film crew on the first floor balcony of the building next to my hotel and then realise that we have literally, walked onto a film set! Franz, the clapper board man ushers us back across the road and seems to think that we are part of this film/documentary. I can now see about ten or more moto and tuk-tuk drivers that I know, who are laughing hysterically and saying, "Hey, Mr. Peter, you Hollywood". I can't convince Franz that I simply want to get to my hotel and he is trying to direct Sreivon and me to cross the road again holding hands! I am wondering how many Angkor beers I have had and whether I am actually dreaming all this but am woken from my reverie by the woman director, who looks a bit like Rosa Klebb from, 'From Russia With Love' and who is obviously not to be messed with. My ribs are aching from the laughter and the assembled Khmers are really annoying Franz because they will not shut up when he is trying to do a take! Well, things continue in this vain for about half an hour. Sreivon and me walk across the road countless times and Hollywood chants get louder. Eventually we must have walked the walk correctly and escape to the hotel where more moto drivers are crowded around the doorway cheering and clapping as we walk in. Crazy, mad, comical and typically Cambodian.
I then ring Helen to tell her, have an Angkor beer and go to bed still laughing. I have no idea what was being filmed but this morning when I left the hotel to write this, the moto men are still laughing !!! It's tough being a filmstar!
I talked to a Belgian guy at the bar who has been coming to Cambodia for the last ten years and he told me how things had changed drastically in that time and become more expensive as the Khmers cashed in on the dollar rich Westerners.
A band from the Phillipines serenaded four Chinese tourists; Doug from Austin, Texas, arrived and ordered German sausages with fried potatoes; I played pool with three Swedish girls; an Argentinian ageing hippie talked loudly and drunkenly to himself whilst the German owner threw out a very drunk Khmer soldier. A cosmopolitan bar without a doubt.
I ate a beef curry and rice, washed down with an ice cold Angkor beer. Replete and rather tired after a very long walk earlier in the day I decided to go to the Zeppelin Cafe to see Mr. Jun and listen to some decent music for a while. It was now about 9.p.m. so I decided to get a moto to take me there. The moto is my preferred mode of transport at this time of the day; it seems a bit safer than in daylight hours and when approaching one of the many crossroads the driver can usually see any other traffic that might be heading his way. Of course there is a bit of an added problem when the drivers don't turn their lights on, and that, believe it or not, happens often! The moto drivers are incredibly persistant to the point of being damn annoying sometimes. It never ceases to amaze me how they operate. I am convinced some of them never sleep; at all hours of the night they will be strategically placed outside the night life hotspots ready to ambush you as you walk out into the dimly lit streets. Normally they hunt in packs of seven or eight, all sat in a line. As you walk toward them one or more will ask you, "Moto Sir, you want massage, lady". I always smile back at the first one and decline the offer. Then the second one who is literally beside me and has obviously heard me say no, asks the same question! This is repeated all the way along the line and on every corner and junction of the streets. Even as I get off the moto that takes me to the Zeppelin Cafe, before my feet have touched the ground, another driver will screech to a halt and ask if I want a moto!!! Crazy!
Two Dutch guys are at the bar and have requested some Neil Young, so we listen to Rust Never Sleeps followed by an hour of Budgie! It is quiet tonight so I decide to go and meet Sreivon from work at the Golden Vine. She has phoned me to say that she will finish early. All the girls are contracted to work until 2.a.m. but if they pay the owner a $5 'bar fine', they can leave at any time after 11.p.m. She is hungry so we have a snack at one of the countless roadside eateries and get a tuk-tuk with Mr. Fixit back to my hotel.
Something is obviously going on as the roads aroung the Dara Reang Sey hotel are all blocked off and a crowd of one hundred or more has gathered at the intersection right outside my hotel. It is very dark and difficult to see exactly what has happened but we manage to push our way through the crowd and start to walk across the road. Well imagine a scene similar to that of a prisoner trying to escape but being lit up by two huge searchlights; we stop in our tracks and are blinded by the lights as a man holding a clapper board emerges from the shadows and starts shouting at us in German!! I look up and see a film crew on the first floor balcony of the building next to my hotel and then realise that we have literally, walked onto a film set! Franz, the clapper board man ushers us back across the road and seems to think that we are part of this film/documentary. I can now see about ten or more moto and tuk-tuk drivers that I know, who are laughing hysterically and saying, "Hey, Mr. Peter, you Hollywood". I can't convince Franz that I simply want to get to my hotel and he is trying to direct Sreivon and me to cross the road again holding hands! I am wondering how many Angkor beers I have had and whether I am actually dreaming all this but am woken from my reverie by the woman director, who looks a bit like Rosa Klebb from, 'From Russia With Love' and who is obviously not to be messed with. My ribs are aching from the laughter and the assembled Khmers are really annoying Franz because they will not shut up when he is trying to do a take! Well, things continue in this vain for about half an hour. Sreivon and me walk across the road countless times and Hollywood chants get louder. Eventually we must have walked the walk correctly and escape to the hotel where more moto drivers are crowded around the doorway cheering and clapping as we walk in. Crazy, mad, comical and typically Cambodian.
I then ring Helen to tell her, have an Angkor beer and go to bed still laughing. I have no idea what was being filmed but this morning when I left the hotel to write this, the moto men are still laughing !!! It's tough being a filmstar!
Sunday 14 December 2008
THE AMAZON RESTAURANT.
One of the numerous old colonial style buildings in Phnom Penh. I think this one is the ministry of agriculture, just a few yards from the Amazon restaurant.
The building opposite the Amazon is possibly where I will stay if I get the teaching job here. The first floor apartment with balcony is the most likely option.
Thy's neighbour and baby.
Sreivon at Amazon on her birthday.
Hairy monkey sir!!!
The owner Thy on the right at Amazon restaurant.
The inside of the Amazon restaurant where I eat quite regularly and am helping the owner Thy create a new menu. Her Dutch partner has just bought the restaurant and I am doing a curry night there next week!
The building opposite the Amazon is possibly where I will stay if I get the teaching job here. The first floor apartment with balcony is the most likely option.
Thy's neighbour and baby.
Sreivon at Amazon on her birthday.
Hairy monkey sir!!!
The owner Thy on the right at Amazon restaurant.
The inside of the Amazon restaurant where I eat quite regularly and am helping the owner Thy create a new menu. Her Dutch partner has just bought the restaurant and I am doing a curry night there next week!
Saturday 13 December 2008
WAT PHNOM
A small hill crowned by an active pagoda marks the legendary founding place of Phnom Penh. The hill is a sight of constant activity with the faithful trekking to the temple, shrines and fortune tellers on the top. There are countless vendors, beggars and even an elephant at the bottom of the hill.
Monkey business!
Mango and papaya vendor
The large stupa contains the remains of King Ponhea Yat (1405-1467) who moved the Khmer capital from Angkor to Phnom Penh in 1422. The legend of the founding of Wat Phnom is tied to the beginning of Phnom Penh. Legend has it that in 1372, Lady Penh fished a floating koki tree out of the river. Inside the tree were four Buddha statues. She built a hill (phnom) and a small temple (wat), at what now is the site of Wat Phnom. Later the surrounding area became known after the hill (Phnom) and its creator, (Penh). Hence the city name Phnom Penh.
Beggars everywhere and of all ages persistantly hassling me, made this the least enjoyable experience to date. I found Wat Phnom to be a very intimidating place. I was warned to be careful before I went there as there are many pickpockets and general waifs and strays that follow you for ages begging for money and getting pretty aggressive if you refuse to hand over any dollars. One young girl , no older than twelve or so, demonstrated an amazing command of English swear words, directed at me, because I would not buy any of the cheap souvenirs she was selling. I had a quick look around and left feeling a bit uncomfortable.
Monkey business!
Mango and papaya vendor
The large stupa contains the remains of King Ponhea Yat (1405-1467) who moved the Khmer capital from Angkor to Phnom Penh in 1422. The legend of the founding of Wat Phnom is tied to the beginning of Phnom Penh. Legend has it that in 1372, Lady Penh fished a floating koki tree out of the river. Inside the tree were four Buddha statues. She built a hill (phnom) and a small temple (wat), at what now is the site of Wat Phnom. Later the surrounding area became known after the hill (Phnom) and its creator, (Penh). Hence the city name Phnom Penh.
Beggars everywhere and of all ages persistantly hassling me, made this the least enjoyable experience to date. I found Wat Phnom to be a very intimidating place. I was warned to be careful before I went there as there are many pickpockets and general waifs and strays that follow you for ages begging for money and getting pretty aggressive if you refuse to hand over any dollars. One young girl , no older than twelve or so, demonstrated an amazing command of English swear words, directed at me, because I would not buy any of the cheap souvenirs she was selling. I had a quick look around and left feeling a bit uncomfortable.
THE WAR OF THE ROADS.
It's official; the streets of Phnom Penh are now a motorized battleground. Monstrous SUV's ( sports utility vehicles ) thunder through the streets waging the destination war. Who knows where they are going, only they want to get there fast. Locals and expats ride their dirt bike stallions at an unofficial gallop through the mass of traffic. Whilst the rules of engagement are clear, bigger has the right of way, the rules of compensation are reversed with the larger mechanized attack vehicles having to pay damages for the results of skirmishes and battles. The trick of course is to beat out the competition and reach your destination avoiding the battles, and winning the war. How can that be done?
There are a number of weapons available to all modes of transport. Even the largest super tankers, the trucks, still find it useful to have one weapon in their arsenal. This is usually in the form of the sonic boom, an air horn capable of making all vehicles in their path scatter as the reverberating punch wakes even the sleepiest battlefield cruisers from their slumber. It should however be remembered that this weapon is available to all, so why not add it to your Daewo or Range Rover, and cackle like Dr. Evil as all around you jump and take flight, only to see a chuckling scooter driver charting its new, clear cut path. Your average SUV will most likely use some sort of sonic weaponry, but often will choose to operate a secondary system for night time operations. Using halogen lamps that fire scorching wavelengths of light from two side-mounted headlamps the tanks ensure they can blind all approaching vehicles, forcing the drivers to pull to the side and shield their eye's before their retinas are irrevocably scorched. Light guns also come in a single mount form, and some with dirt bikes will find there are even bouble barreled versions. Of course in this battle, the tanks, with their greater armament mounting capability, will generally win, as they build an arsenal that any ex Soviet block country would be proud of, across the roof and front bumper.
Smaller armoured personnel carriers such as the much used Camry 4WD, will add extra lighting systems with the aim of confusing other drivers as to where they are, much in the form of aircraft counter-measures. Flashing L.E.Ds, UV tubes and even strobes can be fitted to battle the other combatants as to the vehicle type they are actually approaching, if indeed they are not fooled into thinking that they have arrived at at their destination nightclub. Younger drivers of these and other sportier vehicles often display war paint on their machines exterior to demonstrate aggressive intent. Those with a more callous approach may also employ a secondary sonic device in the form of a speaker stack thudding out crappy R&B and hip hop, making other drivers beg for mercy, or even surrender and take a different road.
For those expats, and more frequently Khmer war enthusiasts, that can't afford the safety of an armoured vehicle, a war horse ( motor bike ) is often considered the next best option. A steed with two hundred and fifty to a thousand times the power of their medieval counterparts can offer some tactical advantages. With less bulk, yet with more grunt these are the opportunists of the battlefield, able to pounce on opportunities presented to them before larger vehicles have got off the blocks. Also with many employing upgraded suspension they are most able to deal with obstacles in the terrain such as high curbsides that prevent other battlers from using the fast lane of the sidewalk. Those with the most power sometimes forego this advantage in favour of pure power, allowing strikes at lightning speed to win the skirmish for that all important gap, and impressive overtaking manoeuvres that frustrate the armoured behemoths. Finally they may also benefit from a rear armament by making adjustments to the exhaust system. A straight pipe can have the dual effects of creating a huge roar from the engine that is often more effective than the sonic boom of most horns, and an afterburner of exhaust fumes that can prevent pesky ponies from getting too close to your rear end.
It is however those pesky ponies (motos) that tend to have the most weapons, and use a wide range of tactics to ensure their respect on the battlefield. The ponies borrow all of the above weapon systems from the other battle craft and find even more ingenious ways to use them. Lighting systems can be connected to any parts of these little steeds in a way even a die hard five year old with the largest collection of My Little Pony extras would be proud of. They are also often combined with a sonic system that pulses out a series of anti-melodies and light flashes at the touch of a button. The drivers of these monsters of sound and light then commonly rear them up onto the back foot in an effort to scare off the larger opponents. This occasionally results in friendly fire incidents where a rear passenger is sacrificed for the cause, but there is no war without casualties, but of course it is the barely armed grunts, the pedestrians of the streets, who are most at risk.
The grunts of all ages are left to pick their way through the carnage of the battlefield, trying to avoid direct fire, and any intermittent debris, whilst also being left to deal with the smog of war, a chemical assault on all those not harnessing the power of surgical breathing apparatus.
Let my final words be of warning. WE ARE AT WAR. DENIAL IS NO LONGER AN OPTION. ARM YOURSELF BEFORE IT IS TOO LATE OR YOU WILL NO LONGER BE ABLE TO REACH YOUR DESTINATION!!!!!!!
Welcome to the traffic of Phnom Penh!!
There are a number of weapons available to all modes of transport. Even the largest super tankers, the trucks, still find it useful to have one weapon in their arsenal. This is usually in the form of the sonic boom, an air horn capable of making all vehicles in their path scatter as the reverberating punch wakes even the sleepiest battlefield cruisers from their slumber. It should however be remembered that this weapon is available to all, so why not add it to your Daewo or Range Rover, and cackle like Dr. Evil as all around you jump and take flight, only to see a chuckling scooter driver charting its new, clear cut path. Your average SUV will most likely use some sort of sonic weaponry, but often will choose to operate a secondary system for night time operations. Using halogen lamps that fire scorching wavelengths of light from two side-mounted headlamps the tanks ensure they can blind all approaching vehicles, forcing the drivers to pull to the side and shield their eye's before their retinas are irrevocably scorched. Light guns also come in a single mount form, and some with dirt bikes will find there are even bouble barreled versions. Of course in this battle, the tanks, with their greater armament mounting capability, will generally win, as they build an arsenal that any ex Soviet block country would be proud of, across the roof and front bumper.
Smaller armoured personnel carriers such as the much used Camry 4WD, will add extra lighting systems with the aim of confusing other drivers as to where they are, much in the form of aircraft counter-measures. Flashing L.E.Ds, UV tubes and even strobes can be fitted to battle the other combatants as to the vehicle type they are actually approaching, if indeed they are not fooled into thinking that they have arrived at at their destination nightclub. Younger drivers of these and other sportier vehicles often display war paint on their machines exterior to demonstrate aggressive intent. Those with a more callous approach may also employ a secondary sonic device in the form of a speaker stack thudding out crappy R&B and hip hop, making other drivers beg for mercy, or even surrender and take a different road.
For those expats, and more frequently Khmer war enthusiasts, that can't afford the safety of an armoured vehicle, a war horse ( motor bike ) is often considered the next best option. A steed with two hundred and fifty to a thousand times the power of their medieval counterparts can offer some tactical advantages. With less bulk, yet with more grunt these are the opportunists of the battlefield, able to pounce on opportunities presented to them before larger vehicles have got off the blocks. Also with many employing upgraded suspension they are most able to deal with obstacles in the terrain such as high curbsides that prevent other battlers from using the fast lane of the sidewalk. Those with the most power sometimes forego this advantage in favour of pure power, allowing strikes at lightning speed to win the skirmish for that all important gap, and impressive overtaking manoeuvres that frustrate the armoured behemoths. Finally they may also benefit from a rear armament by making adjustments to the exhaust system. A straight pipe can have the dual effects of creating a huge roar from the engine that is often more effective than the sonic boom of most horns, and an afterburner of exhaust fumes that can prevent pesky ponies from getting too close to your rear end.
It is however those pesky ponies (motos) that tend to have the most weapons, and use a wide range of tactics to ensure their respect on the battlefield. The ponies borrow all of the above weapon systems from the other battle craft and find even more ingenious ways to use them. Lighting systems can be connected to any parts of these little steeds in a way even a die hard five year old with the largest collection of My Little Pony extras would be proud of. They are also often combined with a sonic system that pulses out a series of anti-melodies and light flashes at the touch of a button. The drivers of these monsters of sound and light then commonly rear them up onto the back foot in an effort to scare off the larger opponents. This occasionally results in friendly fire incidents where a rear passenger is sacrificed for the cause, but there is no war without casualties, but of course it is the barely armed grunts, the pedestrians of the streets, who are most at risk.
The grunts of all ages are left to pick their way through the carnage of the battlefield, trying to avoid direct fire, and any intermittent debris, whilst also being left to deal with the smog of war, a chemical assault on all those not harnessing the power of surgical breathing apparatus.
Let my final words be of warning. WE ARE AT WAR. DENIAL IS NO LONGER AN OPTION. ARM YOURSELF BEFORE IT IS TOO LATE OR YOU WILL NO LONGER BE ABLE TO REACH YOUR DESTINATION!!!!!!!
Welcome to the traffic of Phnom Penh!!
Friday 12 December 2008
JINLING'S STORY.
Chiva's Shack is a small restaurant/bar/guest house about two blocks from where I am staying at the moment. I ate there last night and that was the place I met Mrs. Song. I had fish amok, which is similar to paella I suppose, with a delicious coconut and peanut flavour.
It became apparent after a while that the lady serving me was in fact the owner and she introduced herself as Jinling. She is 38 years old and in true Cambodian style has very long jet black hair, pearly white teeth and is rather attractive to say the least. After my meal I telephoned home and spoke to Mum and Dad and on finishing my call Jinling came and sat down with me and was asking how long I had been here etc.
She asked me about my family and then I asked her if her parents lived in Phnom Penh.
She told me this. She was one of six children; her mother was Chinese and her father was Cambodian. In 1975 when Pol Pot came to power she and thousands of others were forced to leave Phnom Penh. She was 5yrs old and one of her sisters was heavily pregnant. Her brother was a doctor and was beaten to death by the Khmer Rouge which she witnessed. Her pregnant sister was also beaten with sticks and bars and died of her injuries. Her father suffered a heart attack as a result of seeing two of his children killed. She and her three other sisters and mother were taken to a camp where over four hundred women and children lived in absolute squalour, many dying from malaria and cholera. She told me her mother cut her hair to make her look as ugly as possible and made her wear filthy clothes so as not to attract any sexual advances from the Khmer Rouge guards who systematically raped and abused so many youngsters. She told me she learnt how to lie to the guards as a way of saving her own life. The guards were about sixteen years old and knew that if they disobeyed any orders they would be killed.
Two of her other sisters died of cholera and her mother of malnutrition. One sister survived and Jinling managed to escape and made it to a safe area where she more or less hid until the Vietnamese ousted Pol Pot.
In many ways I wish I had not asked about her family but as with so many Cambodians she told me the story without showing too much emotion until the end when she shed a tear or two; me as well. She runs a successful business now and once again the resilience of the people here is quite amazing. I gave her a hug and she said, " This was a bad place to be in the late 70's. " It certainly was.
It became apparent after a while that the lady serving me was in fact the owner and she introduced herself as Jinling. She is 38 years old and in true Cambodian style has very long jet black hair, pearly white teeth and is rather attractive to say the least. After my meal I telephoned home and spoke to Mum and Dad and on finishing my call Jinling came and sat down with me and was asking how long I had been here etc.
She asked me about my family and then I asked her if her parents lived in Phnom Penh.
She told me this. She was one of six children; her mother was Chinese and her father was Cambodian. In 1975 when Pol Pot came to power she and thousands of others were forced to leave Phnom Penh. She was 5yrs old and one of her sisters was heavily pregnant. Her brother was a doctor and was beaten to death by the Khmer Rouge which she witnessed. Her pregnant sister was also beaten with sticks and bars and died of her injuries. Her father suffered a heart attack as a result of seeing two of his children killed. She and her three other sisters and mother were taken to a camp where over four hundred women and children lived in absolute squalour, many dying from malaria and cholera. She told me her mother cut her hair to make her look as ugly as possible and made her wear filthy clothes so as not to attract any sexual advances from the Khmer Rouge guards who systematically raped and abused so many youngsters. She told me she learnt how to lie to the guards as a way of saving her own life. The guards were about sixteen years old and knew that if they disobeyed any orders they would be killed.
Two of her other sisters died of cholera and her mother of malnutrition. One sister survived and Jinling managed to escape and made it to a safe area where she more or less hid until the Vietnamese ousted Pol Pot.
In many ways I wish I had not asked about her family but as with so many Cambodians she told me the story without showing too much emotion until the end when she shed a tear or two; me as well. She runs a successful business now and once again the resilience of the people here is quite amazing. I gave her a hug and she said, " This was a bad place to be in the late 70's. " It certainly was.
SNACK ATTACK.
Out in Battambang, lies the secret to the wonderful taste of Nem. A local snack food of raw fish wrapped in banana leaves, it is forever associated with Cambodia's second city. Khmer's never miss the opportunity to buy it when they pass through and woe betide any friend or relative who fails to bring some back.
Next to a dusty road, about 12km from Battambang town, there are banana leaves and Slek Kantout(sour fruit tree) leaves piled up in front of a wooden house. Many people are sitting under the house, with busy hands moving at a rapid rate. Some are cleaning banana leaves, some Kantout leaves. Others cut fish into small pieces, placing them into small plastic bags. This is the house of traditional Nem maker, Mrs.Kim Song. I met Mrs. Song last night in Phnom Penh and she told me this fascinating story.
Sitting with a pile of fresh fish in a cooking pot, Mrs. Kim Song is proud that she is so successful that she uses up to 200kg of meat per day. Her business is busy from 5a.m. all the way through to 8p.m. Everyday, she distributes to many places in Battambang. " My business starts early in the morning because my clients need to sell it", she says, " and some are sent to other provinces. "
Raw fish is the main ingredient. The kind of fish used depends on availability and ones tastes. Mrs. Song explains how to make Nem: the fish is washed thoroughly. The bones and scales are removed, and the fish is washed a further three times. It is then left to dry. After it has dried, it is cut into small pieces and mixed together with salt, sugar, knor soup( a Cambodian special soup not the packet mix!), chilli, and rom deng ( a ginger spice. ) The small square segments are wrapped in banana leaves, placed in plastic bags and bonded tightly with wire. Three days later the Nem is ready to eat.
There are three kinds of Nem; Nem Slek ( fish meat covered with a Kantout leaf ), Nem Kampok ( fish meat covered by plastic ) and Nem Thom Veng ( long fish meat put inside plastic without banana leaf ). The latter is the most expensive.
Mrs. Song hires local villagers of Kvit village, Preak Kpoub commune and the Ek Phnom district of Battambang to help her. Using a blue tent to shield her from the hot midday sun, she says that over 10,000 packages of Nem leave her house everyday. Mrs. Song's Nem is famous across Battambang province, all the way to Kampong Cham and Kampong Chnang. " The reason that my Nem sells well at the market is because I make it delicious by using high quality ingredients. It uses fresh fish but it doesn't smell because I wash the fish three times until it is empty of blood", she explains. The spicy and sour tast of Nem needs 5kg of chillies with every 200kg of fish meat. The Nem must be kept for three days to acquire the special sour taste.
Her house is popular place in the morning. People arrive early to work at separating the mixture into small pieces, ready to become Nem. Ms.Reung Vita, 17, says she always comes to the house when she has free time from school. Vita is fast at wrapping the fish into the banana leaves. Her fingers nimbly working at an incredible pace. She can wrap many packages of Nem in one day and can earn between 5000-10,000 riel ( 82p-£1.64 ). " I give some of the money to my parents and keep some for study ", she says. Her practiced hands work swiftly. Smiling a she speaks, Ms. Vita adds; " If I do 100 packages I get 500 riel (8p!), so if I need more money I have to work faster and faster. "
Nem is very popular amongst Cambodians. It doesn't sell so well between May and July because it is the planting season. It sells best from September to December. Mrs. Song says she sells 100 packages of Nem for 7000 riel and they sell it on to the buyer for 10,000 reil. Her business is a success; she is very happy with her standard of living and she can earn up to 50,000 riel per day ( just over £8 )
Mrs. Song learnt the ropes by observing her friend, one step at a time. She visited her house and watched as they made packets of Nem. Intrigued, she asked the method and experimented when she got home, trying again and again until she could do it. " There is no class or school, it is knowledge we get from our older man ( generation ), " she added. " I do this business because it is a famous snack for cambodian people," she proudly states. " In the future ( I hope ) we will export to the international market. "
This crafty Cambodian snack provides Ms. Vita with money to support her family and her studies. It boosts the local economy for many living there. She hopes that the Battambang Nem gets developed and promoted and the whole world can enjoy this Khmer speciality; so do I.
Thursday 11 December 2008
I WANT SOME CHEESE!
You are spoiled for choice when it comes to shopping in Phnom Penh. The markets are typically close-quarters places, where crowds in small spaces haggle for hours over a few riel($1=4000R). So watch your back, your pockets and your bags. Cambodians, like many Asians have little concept of personal space. Also watch out for the manic drivers of cars, motos, and tuk-tuks as they career around and past the market areas; some suggest that armour might be the clothing of choice! Souvenirs and t-shirts are not the only things on offer. Delve into the darker corners and you will come across household items, some smelly food stalls, raw meat left out all day and piles of rotting veg under foot! Definately worth a visit if only for the assault on the senses, especially the nose!
Shopping centres are usually air conditioned and more expensive than the markets although they tend to attract crowds of Khmers experiencing their first escalator ride. Further along the food chain are the street stalls and shops and they tend to be grouped together; Monivong Boulevard for example, has shops selling a vast range of electrical goods. It was whilst strolling down this road yesterday that I had a sudden craving for a lump of cheese!!
For the majority of Khmers, cheese is an acquired taste largely handed down to them by the French, who know quite a lot about fromages, frais or not; and we're not talking here about your mass market cheddar extra strong or that plastic stuff called Kraft cheese slices. I was looking for a completely different taste sensation from the noodles, amok(stew), and luc lak(braised beef) world of Khmer cuisine. Of course I am still enjoying immensely the weird and wonderful food that is on offer here but today I fancy a ploughmans lunch! Luckily in Phnom Penh, believe it or not, you can get one.
It's good to know that Phnom Penh continues to live up to its reputation as a taste-the-world destination and not necessarily attuned only to ethnic tastes. For any foodie worthy of the name, there is a cheese mountain out here just waiting to be nibbled, savoured, plated and served.
I went to Veggy's on Street 240. Not only is this shop the preferred emporium of the Cambodian royal family, but also in its refridgerated back room the staff will cut you a lump of brie des meux and camembert, sell you a pre-cut wedge of house wrapped cheddar, gruyere, parmesan, edam, emmental and others. This mecca of good food also offers most of the necessary accompaniments, such as water and digestive biscuits to olives, cocktail gherkins, and when available, joy of joy, Branston pickle! Loaded up with more cheese than the Eurovision song contest I continued to find the other ingredients for my lunch.
The champion cheese shop when it comes to choice has to be Lucky Supermarket at 160 Sihanouk Bvd. When you get to the entrance, go left towards the packaged meat and vegetables and turn left again to gaze in wonder and salivating lust at the cold cabinet loaded with cheese, cooked meats, parma hams, pates and all manner of other delicious delights. It's a long way short of the food hall at Harrods but then, this is Cambodia. Contained in the cabinet is an almost complete A-Z of churned cheese. You may not be familiar with Beaufort, Campero and Brebis but stilton, holey emmental, exquisitely hard and toothesome tomme de la Jura and its hardy Pyrenees cousin share ample breathing space with gogonzola, blue stilton and a tasty cheddar called "Top Hat". As I was having an 'English' lunch I chose the latter to compliment my earlier purchases. Two French sticks, some spring onions and cherry tomatoes completed my shopping. The only thing missing from this foray into the ploughman's world was a crunchy pickled onion. Problem solved. Paragon's bottled Australian onions in vinegar cost only $2 a jar...while stocks last!!
I went down to the banks of the Mekong, had my ploughman's lunch and must admit for a few moments, for the first time, felt a twinge of home sickness. That was short lived though and this afternoon I have a meeting with one of the directors of the English Languge Training School where I will hopefully be working soon.
Shopping centres are usually air conditioned and more expensive than the markets although they tend to attract crowds of Khmers experiencing their first escalator ride. Further along the food chain are the street stalls and shops and they tend to be grouped together; Monivong Boulevard for example, has shops selling a vast range of electrical goods. It was whilst strolling down this road yesterday that I had a sudden craving for a lump of cheese!!
For the majority of Khmers, cheese is an acquired taste largely handed down to them by the French, who know quite a lot about fromages, frais or not; and we're not talking here about your mass market cheddar extra strong or that plastic stuff called Kraft cheese slices. I was looking for a completely different taste sensation from the noodles, amok(stew), and luc lak(braised beef) world of Khmer cuisine. Of course I am still enjoying immensely the weird and wonderful food that is on offer here but today I fancy a ploughmans lunch! Luckily in Phnom Penh, believe it or not, you can get one.
It's good to know that Phnom Penh continues to live up to its reputation as a taste-the-world destination and not necessarily attuned only to ethnic tastes. For any foodie worthy of the name, there is a cheese mountain out here just waiting to be nibbled, savoured, plated and served.
I went to Veggy's on Street 240. Not only is this shop the preferred emporium of the Cambodian royal family, but also in its refridgerated back room the staff will cut you a lump of brie des meux and camembert, sell you a pre-cut wedge of house wrapped cheddar, gruyere, parmesan, edam, emmental and others. This mecca of good food also offers most of the necessary accompaniments, such as water and digestive biscuits to olives, cocktail gherkins, and when available, joy of joy, Branston pickle! Loaded up with more cheese than the Eurovision song contest I continued to find the other ingredients for my lunch.
The champion cheese shop when it comes to choice has to be Lucky Supermarket at 160 Sihanouk Bvd. When you get to the entrance, go left towards the packaged meat and vegetables and turn left again to gaze in wonder and salivating lust at the cold cabinet loaded with cheese, cooked meats, parma hams, pates and all manner of other delicious delights. It's a long way short of the food hall at Harrods but then, this is Cambodia. Contained in the cabinet is an almost complete A-Z of churned cheese. You may not be familiar with Beaufort, Campero and Brebis but stilton, holey emmental, exquisitely hard and toothesome tomme de la Jura and its hardy Pyrenees cousin share ample breathing space with gogonzola, blue stilton and a tasty cheddar called "Top Hat". As I was having an 'English' lunch I chose the latter to compliment my earlier purchases. Two French sticks, some spring onions and cherry tomatoes completed my shopping. The only thing missing from this foray into the ploughman's world was a crunchy pickled onion. Problem solved. Paragon's bottled Australian onions in vinegar cost only $2 a jar...while stocks last!!
I went down to the banks of the Mekong, had my ploughman's lunch and must admit for a few moments, for the first time, felt a twinge of home sickness. That was short lived though and this afternoon I have a meeting with one of the directors of the English Languge Training School where I will hopefully be working soon.
Tuesday 9 December 2008
BIRTHDAY PARTY AT THE GOLDEN VINE BAR.
The local Mr. Fixit, Chhom; for a price, he can arrange or get anything you need, from a visa to a snack in the middle of the night!
My moto driver insisted on getting in the picture!
The food as always was damn good;the closest I have come to eating Western style food in six weeks.
Sreivom and friend.
The birthday girl is on the right.
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