Playing tour guide

My dear friend, Poh Lin, came to visit the Phenomenal Penguin for five days. It was a wonderful diversion and a chance to play tourist again.  (Some of these photos are in fact Poh Lin's -- the better ones, most likely.)

We went once or twice to the Russian Market.  It's like a rabbit warren in which you can buy everything from fresh persimmons to brass knuckles.

Tailors' row

This lady is famous (in some circles) for her daikon pancakes.

Alas, neither of us was hungry, so we didn't try her radish pancakes, which she cooks over charcoal. I'll give them a try one of these days.

The Central (or New) Market is neither.

I took Poh Lin to the art-deco covered market that in English is called Central Market (though it's at the far northern end of the city) and Phsaa Thmey (New Market) in Khmer, despite the fact that it is one of the city's older markets, having been built in 1937.  Never mind. It's cool. Which is to say nifty or groovy -- like everywhere else in Phnom Penh that's not air-conditioned, it's sweltering.

The dome

At least the tall central dome gives it an airier feeling than most of the other covered markets -- it's a bit less claustrophobic. That, however, is not due to any paucity of goods for sale. If you want it and have the patience of a saint or the nose of a bloodhound, you'll find it at these markets. If it's illegal, ask, and it will probably materialise from beneath a stack of towels or children's exercise books.  

Tidy bundles of dried fish

Banana blossoms, dyed, folded and arranged for temple offerings

All the excitement left Poh Lin feeling peckish, so she cosied up to this lady who was deep-frying prawn fritters -- whole, unshelled, very small prawns in batter. Sanitation wasn't in question, because she lifted them out of the wok still sizzling.  You need to watch out for the sharp bits of the prawn, but very tasty.

"Two piece one dollah!" 

The very expensive mystery fruit

We saw a basket of these, and neither of us had any idea what they are. With my limited Khmer, I learnt from the vendor that they are a fruit, they are sweet, and they are $5/kg.  I later bought one at the Russian market, and we tried it the next morning:  The outer skin is crisp, but the inside is soft and white with a pinkish hue. Near the skin, it gives off a milky liquid. The flavour is slightly sweet, mostly bland. One of Poh Lin's friends identified it as follows:  "It's called ‘Buah Susu' in Chinese, in English: cainito, caimito, star apple, golden leaf tree, abiaba, pomme du lait, estrella, milk fruit or aguay."  I just call it over-priced.

We of course walked by the riverside, but we made a point to do so on the day before the Water Festival kicked off.  This was Cambodia's first Water Festival since 350+ were killed in a stampede in 2010; the following festival was cancelled because of King Norodom Sihanouk's death. Neither PL nor I is fond of dense crowds, but we did enjoy seeing the preparations.

Massive light displays stretched all along the river bank.

Many vendors came from around the country to sell their wares. This woman had a pushcart with every sort of snack that had ever crawled, slithered or flown. The cop on the right was just sampling her wares as it suited him. All part of his job, no doubt.

Bugs, grubs, snakes, baby birds...

Crickets roasted with chili, snakes on skewers

Poh Lin and I met my friend Malcolm at Romdeng for dinner that same evening. Romdeng is a restaurant run by graduates of Friends -- an NGO that teaches street kids the ins and outs of the restaurant business.  At Romdeng, the graduates are serving 'gourmet Khmer' food in a French colonial villa -- it's just one of Cambodia's many businesses that allow you to eat well and do good at the same time.  Romdeng is famous for its fried tarantulas, and Poh Lin ordered them straight away. But woe! They were plumb out of tarantulas that night.  She settled for a traditional beef dish with red ant sauce. ("Mmmm, peppery!")  She later read somewhere that the fried tarantula legs are crunchy and salty, as you'd expect, but the body is "greenish and mushy".  Hearing that, I turned somewhat greenish, and suddenly the lack of tarantulas at Romdeng was no longer a tragedy.  We agreed -- green and mushy is fine when you're dealing with spinach but not with spiders.

Pensive after Toul Sleng

Poh Lin toured Toul Sleng -- the genocide museum, formerly the Khmer Rouge interrogation centre, and a high school before that -- on her own, because I've been through it three times and simply couldn't bear one more.  We did a fair amount of going around the city in tuktuks, partly because PL can't bear the heat, and my broken toe is still slowing me down.  She agrees with me that the traffic may not be as thick here as it is in KL, but it's more chaotic. "They just go anywhere and everywhere! It's madness!"  I'm in awe of the tuktuk drivers. They are, almost without exception, patient, calm and competent. Unfortunately, given the very high prices of petrol here in Cambodia, the costs of getting around by tuktuk add up fast. They'll remain my last resort, following my feet, my bicycle and the Monivong Avenue bus.