unPHOgettable

Image by °Florian via Flickr

If you are going to travel in Asia, I strongly reccomend that you cast aside your silly fears and plunge in to the gastronomic treasure trove of cheap eats that abound.

There are only three rules:

• Be open and adventurous
• Follow the locals
• The hotel dining room should only be used for breakfast, only because it represents the closest access to coffee

Throw away all pretensions of dining and you will be richly rewarded. If you are prepared to crouch on a miniscule stool on a sidewalk blessings will rain upon you from the culinary gods above. Not only will you swoon at the cavalcade of flavour, you will save a great deal of money and be given unteachable insights into the local culture.

From a bowl of Tom Yam soup consumed inches from Bangkok traffic, to stellar Khmer barbecue eaten as hookers try to sell me their wares, to a bowl of Vietnamese Pho served in the wee smalls of a drunken evening, the dirt cheap gastronomic riches abound with nary a tablecloth in sight.

Recipes perfected through the centuries and served with a pride that MacDonalds and its mass produced bretheren could never comprehend are ubiquitous. And don't even get me started on the orgasmic delicacy that is Vietnamese iced coffee.

I must confess however that I did break form one evening in Phnom Penh and went for a gnosh at The Foreign Correspondants Club. The very name conjures images of late seventies journalists rushing to get that last dispatch out to the telex as Pol Pot's henchmen come marching down the road. The thing is however, that the joint has only been open for about ten years. The branding was brilliant enough to fool a New York times travel writer, causing a retraction to be subsequently printed. Nonetheless, the gorgeous French Colonial building overlooking the river provided a great ambience while I supped on some Osso Buco.

Gotta run, I'm feeling a little peckish.

http://www.goyestoeverything.com/

Adieu, Cambodia

Image via Wikipedia

My travels in Cambodia have left my mind filled with images of magnificence, horror, resiliency, and the tragic legacy of long ago rampant insanity.

One of the first things that struck me was the gentle and cajoling nature among the people I saw. The people I met had a great sense of play between one another, and if you get to know them a bit, they will include you. I had a great many laughs with people here as they teased me and I teased them back, all in good fun of course.

While Cambodia has returned to normalcy of a sort, the poverty here is unconcionable. The legacy of landmines from the Khmer Rouge days is still in evidence, as many young people who were not even alive during the Pol Pot years. Missing limbs are everywhere, the victims ranging from the very young to the elderly.

As I was dining one night, I saw one man begging on the patio. It was hard for him to put his hand out to beg as he had to drag his legless torso around with his arms. Without question, it is one of the most gut wrenching sights I have ever scene. Doubtless, he lives on the street. For him, there is no welfare cheque.

After I had given him some money, a fellow diner came over and shook my hand. This made me cringe, as I was literally doing the least I could do.

Another scene I witnessed was two parents sorting through garbage on the street, while their two very young children slept on the sidewalk, curled up beside a building. I could go on and on and on, but you get the idea.

Yet in the face of all this, hope persists, a shred of a thread that maybe things can get better. After all, these folks have taken the very worst that humankind has to offer, and they continue to press on. They will be forever in my heart, and never far from my mind.

http://www.goyestoeverything.com/

Phnom Penh Mannix

Image via Wikipedia

After getting back to my hotel from Tuol Sleng, The Killing Fields, and The Grand Palace, I am happy that I was able to accomplish so much on my first day in Cambodia's capital. I lay on my bed and begin to realise that the weird sensations afflicting me are not the product of emotion and sun exposure. Periodically, I have been having odd head rushes, as if the Purple Microdot is about to kick in. Sadly, it never does.

I have a chronic cough, chills, sweats, and my ears are plugged, making communication even more arduous. In addition, every joint in my body aches. Realising that I cannot continue to travel in this state, I confine myself to my bed for a few days, slithering out from the confines of the Jockey Hotel only when necessary.

On one such sojourn I am dining streetside, look out at the very busy Monivong Blvd. As I gnosh away, I am buoyed to see the staff gather for an evening meal. I like places that feed their staff as it says something about the integrity of the ownership, especially in a country this poor.

I request my bill, glance at it and pull out some Riel to settle. Suddenly, an audible gasp rises from the patio. I look up to see a scooter careening off the small median, struggling to regain its balance. About ten feet behind the scooter I see a pedestrian trying to do the same. Clearly she is stunned and injured.

The scooter, having recovered its equilibrium, begins to race off into the night when out of nowhere a Phnom Penh Mannix runs after him and horsetackles driver and scooter, sending both crashing to the ground in a way that puts me in the mind of The Calgary Stampede.

All of this happens in the span of about eight seconds. I commend the young man, his reaction was not considered, but instinctive, reinforcing my notion that most people do the right thing in the unconsidered instance.

A crowd gathers around both involved parties. One women on a scooter has pulled over and appears to have some medical acumen. The women is laid down on the median, and eventually an ambulance arrives. I hope her injuries are no too serious.

Phnom Penh Mannix, you will never read this, and I will never know who you are, but I am humbled by your instinctive decency. Thank you for teaching me.

http://www.goyestoeverything.com/

Tuol Sleng - S21

Tuol Sleng is a former school in the heart of Phnom Penh. It was later converted to an interrogation and torture chamber. Prisoners would pass through here before being shipped off to The Killing Field.

As I walk through here I find it difficult to maintain my composure. I hear gasps and sobs coming from others around me. The severity of this abomination against the human spirit makes this place by far the worst thing I have ever seen. Perhaps the recentness of the events here gives it more impact.

This happened in my lifetime, I tell myself, shaking my head with disbelief. I avert my gaze from the others around me, fearing even the most minor connection with another human being will send me into some uncontrollable emotional abyss.

Note the juxtoposition of the bed frame used to torture people and the classroom blackboard.

I have no more words.