By Fiz
So having been in Phnom Penh for a couple of days we have
noticed a few things. The first is
that the money here doesn’t have silk sweatshops on the backs, and the second
is that the architecture is a pleasant blend of modern and traditional. For example the hotel we are staying in
is a concrete rectangle seven stories tall, though the shape of the roof is
traditional, and so are the tiles.
I can’t see the roofs of only a handful of buildings when I
look out the window of our room on the 5th floor, and most of those
are still under construction.
Phnom Penh is a huge city that has, very literally, recently started
exploring new heights.
Between the broad boulevards and well lit roads lie small
neighborhoods of the less fortunate, with dark, winding alleyways between
corrugated steal roofs, which seem to be the only modern part of each house.
Many of them are built on small stilts, as the flooding here certainly gets
high enough to be a problem.
Polka-dotted between the steel roofs the traditionally tiled
roofs, some with a white trim, stand out in stark contrast in the afternoon
sun. But what stands out even more
are the sleek new shopping centers popping up by foreign architects, attracting
fast food restaurants like KFC like flies.
Inside these malls you could forget you are in a third world
country, forget you are in a world which only 15 years ago was torn apart by a
regime bent on the destruction of its own people, even forget that you are in a
world still recovering from the Khmer Rouge. But as soon as you walk out the doors, and the refreshing AC
can no longer keep the oppressing heat at bay, you remember where you are, even
if the people around you don’t.
There is a curious phenomenon amongst the younger generation
of Cambodians, they hear stories from their parents about the tragedies they
lived through and witnessed, they can see the killing fields where their
countrymen were slaughtered. But
few of them really believe it happened.
They think the experiences of their parents are ghost stories, like we
think of the tales of the Boogey man.
Since Pol Pot was removed from power there has been no
conversation, no discussion in schools or colleges about the atrocities
committed not two decades ago.
Although this is starting to change, many are concerned about the affect
this will have on the future generations, they worry that the fun, peace loving
youth of today will harden, becoming more aggressive.
The Cambodia of today is a safe place, for anybody to come
to, although it was not so some ten years ago. Today I was listening to a story
told by an Aussie fellow who has been coming to Cambodia since 1994 at first
for pleasure, then for work, and now to give back to the country he fell in
love with, giving money to NGO’s and charity organizations. The story he told was from one of his
first visits to a friend of his who lived here in Phnom Penh.
He sat down to dinner at said friends house and he noticed
that his friend had an AK-47 in his lap. Why? He wondered out loud. He found
out that his friends house had been broken into eight times while he was at
home, hence the 3 inch solid steel door.
They went for an after dinner stroll, and everybody who was invited to
dinner was handed a pistol, with extra clips, just in case. His friend still carried the AK.
But as I said earlier, Cambodia is safe these days. Sure there are pickpockets (our first
night here we ran into a guy who’s bag got stolen off a bus), and Tuk Tuk
drivers who will try to rip you off, among other hazards that every city seems
to possess, but you really have to do something rash to warrant any hostility.
The beggars are tame, and so are the street vendors, a shake
of your head is all it takes to get somebody off your tail. A smile goes a long way here, so does
common curtsey. Don’t be shy to
have a conversation with the Tuk Tuk driver you employ for five minutes, you
wont ever see him again in the throngs of people, and you might just enrich both
your lives.
In this country you really do get what you give.
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