A December Visit to the Far East: Cambodia Part I

Cambodia wasn’t a place I expected to go to, certainly not before Christmas. But in October, my friend Ada messaged me. Would I be interested in visiting our friend Emily, who has been living in Cambodia since fall 2021?

On December 2, my cousin Lorelle (who loves all things Japanese) sent me a message about a podcast, not knowing where I was.

I replied to Lorelle as our airplane taxied to the runaway in Taipei, Taiwan. “By the way, I thought of you today. I’m on my way to Cambodia and flew over Japan this morning.” I added a picture of my Chinese breakfast as evidence.

“EXCUSE ME YOU WHAT MA’AM????”

We exchanged messages until it was time to put my phone in flight mode.

Our sixteen-hour flight from New York to Taipei had come in late, forcing us to rush through the airport, wearing masks (we were nearly in China, after all), jet-lagged, and confused about which way the “B” tram went, while the information for our flight on the display boards ominously went from “Boarding” to “Final Call”. An young airline employee pointed us in the right direction, and we boarded the plane and flopped into our seats for the four-hour flight to Phnom Penh.

We landed in Cambodia in the middle of the day, in a warm and humid city. Outside the airport, we rushed to hug Emily, who had come with a tuk-tuk driver and a big smile, ready to welcome us to her new home.

We had finally arrived.

Phnom Penh has more than two million people and a population density of about twenty-two thousand people per square mile– more than Philadelphia, less than New York— but with fewer high rise buildings and no subways to channel the masses underground. The streets of Cambodia’s capital city are filled with bikes, cars, small taxis, but most of all, motos— small motorcycles that squeeze anywhere they can, carrying groceries, supplies, children going to school; toddlers bouncing in front of their mothers.

As we drove through the city, Emily explained the different modes of transportation. “The bigger taxis, the ones pulled by a moto, they’re called tuk-tuks. The smaller ones, with three wheels, are called PassApps, because you hire them on the PassApp.”

Emily explained some other basics. “It’s the Khmer language and people— Kh-MY, not Kh-mer. It’s a bad transliteration. And always take off your shoes when you go to someone’s house.”

We went to the guesthouse where we would be staying, close enough to the airport to hear the planes taking off and landing. We turned on the AC and started to unpack. Ada, who once lived in Haiti for eighteen months, said, “We need to buy bottled water. Plenty of it.”

“And we need to buy toilet paper too,” I said after using the bathroom. It was a typical Asian wet bathroom— there was no shower stall, only a shower hose and a drain in the floor and another hose by the toilet. The walls were tiled and the threshold raised. It works in a warm climate.

That evening, Emily bought a noodle dish for us from a street vendor. Street food is available everywhere in Phnom Penh. Families sell hot food in front of their homes and vendors slowly roll by on moto-powered carts, a loudspeaker chanting the name of their specialty. I had looked forward to eating Cambodia’s famous food, but my stomach was protesting the twelve-hour time zone difference and I could only eat a few rice noodles.

The next morning, we went to the church where Emily and the rest of her fellow ministry workers from the Redeeming Rain Organization attend. Emily works with a small group of Americans and Khmer staff who focus on church planting, community health education, English classes, and providing safe, low-cost housing for college students. Emily lives in a dorm with college girls, just a few houses down the street from the house were church services were held.

The sermon was entirely in Khmer— the pastor and his assistant are Khmer, but while we didn’t understand a word, it was still a blessing to worship God together with fellow Christians.

After church we had a fellowship meal. As the local women prepared food in kitchen, Emily whispered “We’ll just stay out of the way.” Everyone settled on the floor with a plate of rice and added meat and vegetables. Dessert was tapioca pudding with sweet corn.

White rice is central to Khmer cooking. Even bread and noodles are made from rice. Later in the dorm kitchen, I counted four rice cookers— each Khmer girl would make rice (sent from home) every morning, and eat it throughout the day.

Over the next few days, Ada and I got to see more of Phnom Penh. We walked back and forth from the guesthouse to Emily’s house, enjoying the colorful city life, waving and giving high-fives to the curious neighborhood children who ran up to us.

Across the street from the guesthouse was a small café where Ada and I often got breakfast. There was a photo of a fried egg and rice on the wall, and we pointed at that picture and a picture of iced coffee to order breakfast.

We learned say “Arkoun” (Khmer for thank you) and press our hands together and bob our heads. Emily could speak some basic Khmer, but when we weren’t with her, we had to use gestures and phones to communicate.

Ada learned to drive moto— only one of us could ride behind Emily, and Ada was far more eager than me to drive. Emily gave her instructions like, “I’ll clear a path for you, just stay on my tail.”

Fortunately, the only moto injury that occurred was when I got my shin against the hot muffler of another moto parked beside us in a restaurant parking lot.

One lazy afternoon at the dorm, Kimliang, one of the college students who spoke some English, and I started talking about websites. She’s studying IT in college, and showed me some of her practice HTML documents. I showed her WordPress and Penny Letters.

Temperature highs were in the nineties, with the occasional rain shower. Emily told us stories about the rainy season during the summer months. “Some streets in the city flood, and the water gets to be knee-deep. The traffic moves at a crawl. The schools close. The water is polluted and can cause infections.”

Ada is a nurse, so she was interested in the healthcare. One of the other American women, Ruth, also a nurse, took us to a pharmacy in another part of the city. “You can buy things here that are only available by prescription in the US,” Ruth said.

One morning we went along with some of the Redeeming Rain staff who provide some basic healthcare for people in the slums. They set up tables and chairs and took vital signs and gave out medicine.

Phnom Penh’s markets were fascinating to me. Cambodia is known for its garment industry, and the market stalls were packed with genuine brand-name clothing, knockoffs, factory seconds, and even garments that looked like prototypes.

At the Tuol Tompoung market (also called the Russian Market because it was once popular among the city’s Russian expats) we purchased coffee, dried mangoes, cashews, and other Christmas gifts for our families.

One evening we went out to eat spicy noodles. Emily told us this isn’t really a traditional dish, but it’s a popular one. It was fun figuring out what everything in the soup was!

After we had been there a few days, someone asked Ada and I what we thought of Cambodia. I answered, “I’m not really a big city person. I’d like to see more of the countryside.” I knew I would soon get my chance, because we were taking a bus trip away from Phnom Penh…

Coming soon! Cambodia Part II: Visiting Siem Reap and Angkor Wat.

Merry Christmas!

Watch my video below to see what the side streets of Phnom Penh look like! I took this video from the back of Emily’s moto.

To learn more about DNI (DestiNations International), visit here. To learn more about the Redeeming Rain Center, visit here.

To learn more about what it’s like to be an American living in Cambodia, visit Stacy Yoder’s Youtube channel here.