Experience Our City!

From time to time, folks ask us about the place we live. So we thought we’d take you all on a little sensory field trip, one that will hopefully paint a vivid picture in your minds of this strange and wonderful place we’ve called home the past four years. Enjoy (and maybe, beware).

What you’ll smell in Phnom Penh

They say that the olfactory is our most powerful sense, so let’s start here. If you were dropped off on the side of the street in our city, let’s say on any given morning, with nothing but your nose to guide you, here are some things you might encounter:

• ·        Wafting in between homes and buildings, a smoky residue clings to your nostrils, and you detect that something other than firewood has been burning. Ah, yes, last night’s garbage heap. What else could that be? Perhaps it’s also durian, that golden fruit that somehow causes you to imagine mixing garlic with overripe bananas.
• ·        You know you’re standing in close proximity to the road, not because you hear anything (you’ve only got your nose, remember), but because the unmistakable stench of gasoline and exhaust is clearly hanging in the air.
• ·        A moto taxi can tell you’re in need of some help, and gives you a lift. Within moments you are moving rapidly through the streets, and a mixture of smells are ready to greet you—such as a “wet market” off to the side, where meat that was fresh this morning hangs high in the hot sun; or pungent incense sticks that lie smoldering outside most shops and restaurants; or perhaps the unforgivable odors coming from the open sewer lines that run throughout the city.

What you’ll hear in Phnom Penh

Still in traffic, your ears finally open. Here are some things you’ll find bursting down upon your eardrums.

• ·        The high-pitched screeches and squeals of tired breaks sound off all around you as your taxi continues down the road. You can hear the low hum of numerous engines as they idle; suddenly, an incongruous sputtering is heard, and the engines begin to rev again. One bike goes by with furious acceleration, shaking your eardrum with its machine-gun-like blast as it goes by. You’ve had enough of traffic, and take to walking instead (for the moment, let’s assume nothing bad can happen to you for not being able to see where you’re going).
• ·        An odd array of percussion greets your ears now: a tile cutter screams through stone nearby; a hammer pounds away at some sort of metal object, clanging and echoing in the distance; in the background, a dizzying smash of a cymbal; you turn a corner—giant sounds from a loudspeaker come barreling down, as the decibels pulse.
• ·        And then there’s the talking! Conversation abounds in every crevice of this place. Over there is another market, and amid the cackling of crowing roosters and the shuffling, smacking, breaking, cracking, dumping, popping noises that mutter from every direction, you hear the people of the city: sellers yell across crowded streets while buyers utter indistinguishable verbal expressions over a price too high; hawkers call out to passer-bys while others’ ringtones provide a soundtrack to the scene; children squeal and giggle between shouts of “Hey-lo!” to a foreigner walking blind.

What you’ll taste in Phnom Penh

Now suppose you’ve gained your taste buds back, and you’re in luck—food is always ready for someone on the go. A local has noticed you’re in need of nourishment and cordially agrees to help you try the local fare. Here’s what you might experience out and about one day:

• ·        First, something sweet and juicy that melts with summery flavor, like a ripe mango or a fresh-cut pineapple. Or, how about a local favorite: unripe mango, dipped in a tangy mix of salt and chili?
• ·        Now, there are a number of palatal favorites you might consider for lunch: stir-fried vegetables drenched in garlic and soy, or the rich, red curry with a crispy baguette and chunks of “chainsaw chicken,” with slippery noodles at the bottom, or maybe the savory favorite, grilled pork over steamed rice. Oh, and let’s not forget the culinary rite of passage in this country, prohoc (that is, fermented fish paste).
• ·        Coffee is one thing this city has plenty of. Hand drip or French press? Cold brew or siphon? Are you more of a Starbucks fan, or do you prefer the local style—two inches of black tar covered with sweetened condensed milk, stirred and served with ice?

What you’ll touch (and feel) in Phnom Penh:

After some grub you’re beginning to reach out and touch the city. But not if it gets to you first.

• ·        The tropical sun makes a deal with intense humidity to ensure you receive the customary experience of sweating profusely while standing completely still. You can run or ride and catch some breeze—but the stickiness will find you. If you’re lucky to have visited in rainy season, however, expect the welcome of warm, outdoor showers from time to time.
• ·        There’s dust in your teeth, grime in your nails, and sometimes when you sneeze, the color is black. And what else? You might trip on uneven bricks or stumble around an oddly placed flower pot on the side of the road. You’ll climb into tuk-tuks and bounce to point B. You’ll push aside metal gates to get into our house, and once you’ve taken off your Chacos feel the cool of the tile beneath your toes.
• ·        The best things you’ll feel aren’t made from the concrete of this jungle, though. You won’t get far without a hug or a handshake or a pinch in the back from a curious youngster. And the more you get to know the people of the city, the more you’ll learn the power of an open hand, a wrapped-around arm, a welcoming embrace.

What you’ll see in Phnom Penh:

All that you’ve witnessed so far, you’ve done without your greatest sense. Now open your eyes. This is the city you’ve sensed your way through. This is the city we’ve been blessed for a season to call our home.