Cambodia Journals | Phnom Penh, 25 August 2019
It has happened many times in recent years that a story began on the banks of a river: whether it was the Rio de La Plata in Argentina, the Niong in Cameroon, the Lulua in Congo, the Orange in Namibia, or how could we forget the Chao Praha in Bangkok.
After almost 30 hours of travel, 3 planes, 4 airports, suitcases lost and then found, double currency used at random that you never know how much you are spending: the call of the river was stronger than anything else; and before anything else, having left my bag in the room that will house me for the next two nights, I walked in the direction of the majestic and peaceful Mekong, which from faraway Tibet passes through the capital Phnom Penh and then continues its slow existence through Vietnam and spills, after 5 thousand kilometers, into the South China Sea.
With its 1.5 million inhabitants, Phnom Penh is the capital of a growing Cambodia. With strength and determination, it wants to leave behind its bloody history: from French colonisation to genocide by the Khmer Rouge less than 50 years ago.
The illusion of a city
Arriving in Phnom Penh deludes you and at the same time calms you down.
To get around you put on“Southeast Asian city” mode: brisk traffic, smog, dirt, green and elegant areas coexist in serene harmony.
The friendly, smiling people are able to seriously challenge your “gruff” attitude as a Westerner who has molded his character with the idiocies of social networks, and now finds himself bewildered, at times helpless by so much… helpfulness.
And it is these occasions that allow you to put on the brakes, and return to being what you are and not what you would like to be seen to be.
I took lodging in a ‘working-class’ neighbourhood where for a few dollars they guaranteed me a (dirty) room, with a private bathroom (next to the bed, more private than that), and a fan. Forgetting, however, to mention the beasts that roam the area at night. However, I can count on the many massage parlors in the area, which for as little as $5 promise to take away the stress of the long journey.
Another $5 and you’re off the hook.
Last note of the day: before looking for a currency changer at the market (they are the best, no doubt about it) the Bank of Canada ATM at the airport dispensed me with $100 counterfeit, those named Supernotes.
They are perfect, identical in every way, except in one detail: with much irony and teasing, on the front, the bill bears a small inscription...COPY!
