Streetwalker

Phnom Penh is not a beautiful city. At least not by any western standards. Though most of the roads are now paved, highrises and modern businesses are popping up on every corner, and there is evidence of new public works projects, the city still feels rather ramshackle. Its streets, thoroughfares, and parks are littered with all kinds of refuse and rubble, the air is oft choked with exhaust and dust, and electrical wire tangles mar the view of the tree lined alleys. On either side of an old colonial French villa or an inviting new dayspa are crumbling apartments and buildings that should be condemned. The rivers run muddy brown all year round and the riverfront, despite a horde of posh businesses catering to expats and tourists, still feels squalid.



And yet, it is perhaps my favorite city to walk. To say the Phnom Penh has character is like saying New York has culture, or LA has style. The streets are absolutely alive with people, vehicles, animals, and activity of all sorts. Kids with fistfuls of riel run down the street on mother-sent errands; moto and tuk-tuk drivers congregate on every corner, playing cards or checkers or simply shooting the breeze; barbers setup their tiny stands on a back alley and give shaves for 25cents; old women, often with a kid or two in tow, pull their recycling wagons through the streets picking up discarded cans and bottles; food and drink are abundantly available from vendor carts and street side restaurants, selling everything from sugarcane juice to hot bowls of noodles to duck eggs to coconuts to ice cream cones.



Simply walking through traffic is a real-life video game (remember Frogger?)--you must constantly be on guard for everything seems to be coming right at you. Cross a busy street and you will likely have to weave through several Lexus SUVs, a smiling cyclo driver or two, a large barreling truck, a group of bright orange-robed monks, plus countless overloaded motos carrying not just passengers but electronics, live animals, produce, and building supplies.



Sidewalks are a bit of a misnomer, for there often is little room to walk. It is impossible to walk straight. Businesses spill out of their doors almost into the street, motos and tuk-tuks use the sidewalk as parking, vendors block the way with their carts, and there are always piles of rubbish to avoid. I find I usually just walk in the street and disregard the sidewalks altogether.

All of this was magnified the first couple days I was here, as the country was celebrating the annual water festival (see "Bon Om Touk" post from December '07). Thousands and thousands of people from the countryside came to the capital to enjoy the festivities, packing the already chaotic streets, to the point where it was difficult to move at all. Disconcerting at first, but after a few walking journeys into the heart of the city, it all feels incredibly familiar again.