Phnom Penh is like home away from home. There is just enough weird to remind you that you probably shouldn't stroke that toothless guys pet mercat on a string, and just enough normal to make you think the fried tarantula you ate is the sole source of your stomach ache. Beside every glossy corner store there are a couple kids, naked as jaybirds, riding limping dogs shouting "eeeeyyyyaaah!", which I imagine as the Khmer version of "run faster, you itchy little dog!" On the road, after every polished Mercedes, drives a 70's VW bus packed to the bursting point with Calvin Kleen jeans. Everytime you stop to admire the fact that they've put up a 'Caution: Construction' sign, a guy carrying rebar walks into the site rocking flip-flops and a hard hat.
Truly, it's perfect ... and just like all of the people we've met here so far, I've fallen in love and want to stay.
After Sander recovered from his identity-theft-prevention journey with a series of well-timed naps, we set off to explore the National Museum. The art lover in me was thrilled by the quality of the pieces that had been recovered (following decades of neglect and temple robbing), but my OCD yearned to rip everything off the walls and make some damn order of the place. The complete lack of signage was torturing my inner nerd. Why collect 12th century wedding cups, clean them up and display them, and not tell me what a goddamn 'wedding cup' is for?! Regardless, the museum has some serious promise.
For our first night in Phnom Penh, Ben had an action plan: stroll down the breezy river front, eat the most disgusting foods he could find for us, and settle in for cheap draft at a local pub. Now, if that's not a night on the town, I don't know what is. Having failed his quest to find Sander the Khmer favorite; fertilized and boiled chicken eggs, he settled on the sumptuous looking crispy-fried bug trolley. Whatever your black little heart could desire: tarantula, cockroach, grasshoppers, scorpions, and other less distinguishable treats. While I threw up in my mouth a little, Ben and Sander discussed the intricacies of properly eating a cockroach. Don't forget that Ben has an Oxford-English accent, making the whole conversation seem all the more intellectual. They settled on the ever popular snack-you-can-love-by-the-handful: two big scoops of fried crickets. 'Well,' I thought to myself, 'those singing bastards have been keeping me awake at night' .... why not? It's karmic. Enjoy boys. Follow with a few swift pints of Angkor draft, and enjoy.
Slaughter.
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Location:Phnom Penh
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