Walking tour
As my closest associates well know, I have a long and unfortunate history derived from an inclination to “walk first, check map later.” This morning, for once, I planned more carefully. This is because Phnom Penh really intimidates me. It bustles and teems – I have seen for myself the constant collisions involving various representations of tuk tuks, motorbikes, cars, bicycles and people. Even though I have been here a week, I had yet to develop a sense of what is where.
Fortunately, the Lonely Planet’s proposed Walking Tour starts very close to my hotel, at Wat Phnom, the hill-park where that poor elephant works. Armed with two maps, I set out past the train station (a grand building where 60-year-old trains head out, ever so slowly, to the provinces) and into Psar Thmei – the central market that is at once cavernous and cramped. Once again, I was struck by the density and variety – meat, shoes, clothes, produce, watches, jewelry, housewares, linens, everything – as well as the thickness of the air. And, as always when I see mothers tucked into tiny spaces, trying to sell things while their children must sit for hours amid the smell and the heat, I felt overwhelmed. The disparity in our fortunes, and that of our children, is hard to swallow. Yet I do, and keep walking.
I followed the streets that I had been driven down all week – it was useful to finally connect some dots. Law firms, companies, NGOs, government buildings, schools. Also, monuments, shops, galleries, and the major tourist attractions. Walking the perimeter of the gold, glorious Royal Palace and Silver Pagoda complex, I wondered why all the entry ways were locked. Turns out, these big draws close between 11 a.m. and 2:30 p.m.
Ending up by the river, I was drenched in sweat and so stopped for a drink. When you are walking fast, you can breeze by all the sights that distress: land-mine victims in wheel chairs, begging by the palace; families piled dangerously onto trucks and motorbikes; barefoot children carrying their younger siblings, scrounging for a handout; rows of women sitting before piles of fruit that they will never sell; garbage and standing water everywhere. When you are sitting, you can’t look away as easily. From my comfortable chair in the café, I watched several young boys trying to sell books to tourists. One approached me, and I turned him away.
Several of my colleagues traveled for the weekend to the temples at Siem Reap, including Ankor Wat. I might have gone as well, but my life as a traveler lately, both in Egypt and here, compelled me to choose a quiet weekend in the city. I am not sorry for this decision — I wanted to get a closer look at Phnom Penh.