It occurs to me that I have been extremely ungenerous to the children in Cambodia. As such, I would like to modify my most recent posting. Having now visited two other cities in Cambodia, it appears that the only place plagued by young miscreants is Siem Reap. The children in both Phnom Penh and Battambong have been nothing but delightful. And to the credit of Siem Reap, not all my experiences with children were bad.
After leaving one of the temples, a young girl attempted to sell me something. I politely refused; she asked me where I was from. When I responded, “the United States,” she began to rattle off a long list of facts: Obama is president, Joe Biden is VP, Washington D.C. is the capitol, George Washington was the first president, etc etc. We spoke briefly while I walked to my bike, and then the unexpected happened. She gave me, I repeat, gave me, a bracelet for my girlfriend or, barring that, sister. And more importantly, expected nothing else. She enjoyed our conversation. It is a poor man who judges all by the actions of few.
Have you ever gotten a flat while riding a tuk-tuk? En route to Chueong Ek, this happened to me. A sudden pop and the sound of shattering glass turned out to be, not a gunshot as I assumed, but the auditory announcement of a flat tire. We immediately got out of the tuk-tuk and walked it forward to a “garage”, a garage in that it had a hanging picture of a motorbike.
Using two bricks as a jack, we lifted the tuk tuk up and proceeded to change its tire on the side of the road. Unfortunately, the nail that had popped our tire was still embedded in the tire itself. The repairman cut a piece of rubber from a bike tire, fitted it into the tire of the tuk-tuk, and all was well. In short order we were on our way again.
Those of you living (or who lived) in either Greenwood Village or Williamsburg probably have memories of exercise equipment (I use that term lightly) along paths and trails. Some government initiative thought that a push up bar along a running path would inevitably lead to a healthier society, one that does push-ups on their runs. It upsets me greatly to announce that, within the United States, this has been a failure.
A similar campaign in Cambodia has heralded great success. Along the waterfront in Phnom Penh the government has installed various different pieces of workout equipment. Some are reminiscent of pedal bikes, others ellipticals, and others unlike anything I’ve seen before. Walking along the waterfront at sunset gives evidence to their great use, every machine. And free(?) aerobics classes are also in evidence. Someone setup speakers and decided to lead an aerobics class, multiple someones in fact. Not only that, but they each had some 20 or 30 participants.
For those of you unaware, Cambodia was once a French Colonial nation. The city of Battambong is proof of that. Spattered with French Colonial architecture, this sleepy town lies in the North West of Cambodia. As many of you may know, I’m fond of sleepy little towns; Battambong is no exception.
My stay here is brief, but I would readily stay longer should chance arrive (and a few degrees were knocked off the thermometer). The hustle of Phnom Penh, the excess of tourists in Siem Reap, Battambong lacks. Instead, people go about their daily business largely ignorant of the few tourists that come here. The only unique attraction is the bamboo train.
Today I’ve visited both the bamboo train and the “killing cave”, another of the Khmer Rouge’s violent spaces. The bamboo train utilizes an old French railroad track to move people and product between rural villages. A six horse power engine hurtles a bamboo stage along the track. These stages can be easily taken apart and removed from the track should a string of other stages be encountered going the opposite direction; a novelty, undoubtedly, but entertaining none the less.
After a good hike (supposedly either 1000m or 1000’, it wasn’t clear) I was lead to the killing cave, the site of another death camp hailing the Khmer Rouge. Many and more skulls were displayed in a memorial stupa. Again, the tragedy of the Khmer Rouge has been reinforced through vigilance and memorial.
And now, I admit ashamedly, to having forgotten one of the cardinal rules of backpacking: street food. In any and all cases one should attempt to eat the local street food. Simply put it is cheaper and better than anything you could get in a restaurant. I have been reminded of this today.
For the past week and change I have been eating exclusively at restaurants. For a whapping 3500r (roughly $1.88) I was reintroduced to street food. Searching for a cheap lunch I found a street vendor selling bread and a variety of fried meat(?) products. Served abed mint and cucumber the fried sticks of meat were accompanied by bread and a hot sweet chili, including red beans. It is one of the best meals I’ve had in Cambodia. I won’t soon forget to frequent often the gap-toothed vendor selling undistinguishable food on the corner of the street. I'm having dinner at the same place.
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