Phnom Penh, The City With No Sidewalks

I recently traveled to Cambodia for a work trip to help put together a proposal to improve nutrition service delivery to women in rural villages in Cambodia.  Don't be too impressed, I don't actually have any part in doing any of that, I just crunch the numbers and nag people for information like audits and accounting manuals.  As uninteresting as my daywork sounds, the opportunity to travel to such great places (oh, and the fact that I'm, albeit indirectly, helping to save the children) is my favorite part of my job.  

The Journey
If you know me, you know I LOVE flying.  Something about being in the airport, people watching, cramming myself in to those spacious international economy class seats and hoping to God my row companions don't want to make friends with me for the next 8+ hours...well...I just can't get enough of it.  

This particular trip was my first opportunity to experience Korean Airlines from Dulles to Seoul for 14 hours, then Seoul to Phnom Penh, the capitol city of The Kingdom of Cambodia for another 5 hours.  I was excited for this trip, one because it was going to rack me a cool 20,000 miles on SkyTeam, though unfortunately not Medallion Qualifying Miles because apparently Delta and Korean are in a SkyTeam family feud so they're taking it out on their customers.  Yeesh, problems of an international traveler.  

The first flight to Seoul, South Korea was a bit of an odd experience.  It was a 14 hour flight leaving DC at 12pm (noon) and arriving in Seoul at 4pm the next day.  A few things about the flight that were different is that they feed you three full meals (that's a lot of airplane food), the flight attendants bow multiple times as they interact with you, and the plane had a little rest bunker for the flight attendants to go take naps throughout the trip.  

Also, something really strange is that they manufactured it to be a "nighttime flight" even though the flight departed in the afternoon and landed in the afternoon.  By "manufactured", I mean that after take off, all passengers were required to close the window shades and then dinner and drinks were immediately served.  After dinner service, the cabin lights were cut off and the flight attendants came around and gave you stickers to wear to indicate for which events you would like to be woken up for.  The choices were "Meals" (clearly catering to the American market), "Duty Free Shopping" and  "Before Landing".  Therein summed up the only three things that Korean Airlines decided I needed to worry about for essentially the next day of my life I'd be sharing with them and 150 other of my closest friends on this 777.  
I wished I had kept the stickers to find a future alternative purpose, like donning one at my next staff meeting, or perhaps using them as lint paper like the woman next to me.  "Take that, Korean Air, you can't put me to sleep just because you turn the lights out!".  

My plan seemed relatively simple and logical: stay completely awake for both the 14 hour flight to Seoul and again for the 5 hour flight to Cambodia so then when I finally land in Cambodia at 10:30pm on Saturday I can crash and go right to sleep.  Flaw: Not accounting for the fact that assumed me staying completely awake for 26 hours once all was said and done. 

So, that didn't really work out as planned.  After a few bad movies, a few snoozes, some bibimbap on the airplane (which the flight attendant gave me a laminated instruction card to guide my consumption), I arrived in Seoul just in time for the afternoon Royal Family processional through the airport.

Fast forward another 7 or so hours and I'm landing in Phnom Penh.  Raining cats and dogs and my airport driver informs me that its an after effect of Typhoon Haiyan.  Kind of a weird feeling realizing that I had traveling within a region just hit by a natural disaster.  

My Week In Cambodia
As I mentioned, I was on a work trip to help save some babies.  It was a fairly last minute planned trip (as most of mine are) and as such the trip was taking place over Cambodia's National Holiday, the Water Festival.  This holiday marks the beginning of the fishing season and the change in the Tonle Sap River's current.  Historically, this holiday is celebrated with long boat races along the river along with a carnival in front of the National Palace along the riverfront.  

National Palace

Unfortunately, the boat races haven't occurred for the past few years.  In 2010, there were crowd control issues at the event and it resulted in a stampede so the event has been contentious ever since.  The following year, floods country-wide caused the the festivities to be cancelled and in 2012 the nation's King Father Norodom Sihanouk died, causing a cancellation again.  This year, the water festival was again cancelled for two reasons: again flooding in some of the areas outside of Phnom Penh but also rumors of fear of potential political protest as a result of elections held this past July.  So, even though I barely found a hotel room in the whole city because of the national holiday, there were no boat races to be seen along the river.  I did catch another race though...

I was able to spend some time down at the river, though.  It was a nice spot with lots of restaurants, bars and coffee shops.  Also was the jumping off point for what seemed to be a huge backpacking seen in Cambodia.  

Top: Some old men relaxing by the river before sunset. 

Bottom:  Muscle beach  Cambodia  style.    This  is an  open air gym on the river walk which kids and adults spend time exercising.  

Another attraction of the riverfront is the Night Market.  It happens on Friday, Saturday and Sunday is a big hangout for local city folk.  The shopping wasn't that good, mostly novelty stuff, but there was also a main stage with local performers, a Cambodian "open-mic", if you will.  There was also big section of street food.  

The Night Market street food experience was pretty cool.  Basically there tons of stands and stalls with all these different types of skewered selections (bottom-right) that you pick out and hand to the fry ladies behind the table (top-left).  They will deep fry it and then voilá (middle-right), piping hot fried everything! Now, just have a seat (take your shoes off first) on the communal mats and you're in a makeshift outdoor Cambodian equivalent of a food court (top-right).  

Here are some other pictures I snapped during a Sunday stroll around town when most are out for they day doing their shopping for the week...

There isn't really any public transit in Phnom Penh, nor (as the title implies) any sidewalks, so its not a very pedestrian friendly place.  So, my mode of transport everywhere was a Tuk-Tuk.  Tuk-tuks are motorcycles with buggies attached to the back of them which will take you pretty much anywhere you want to go for $1, but if you're foreign you have to negotiate down from $3.  Say tuk-tuk really fast pretending as if you're driving a motorcycle and you'll quickly see why they're called tuk-tuks.

I happened to catch a wedding processional in the middle of the street at the Russian Market (not run by Russians nor were Russian items for sale).  I thought it interesting that guests were bringing fruits and cakes as gifts.  

It's Your Lucky Day

...said the gate agent at the Entebbe airport at 12:30 am at night (morning) as the ridiculously packed, hour late flight was getting ready to push back from the gate. 

By the time I was actually sitting in my seat on my overnight flight from Entebbe, Uganda to Amsterdam, Netherlands I was already 6 hours in to my journey back home to DC, and it had barely just begun.  Through the course of the day leading up to just getting on the plane, I had sat in about 2 1/2 hours of traffic for the 33 km (20 miles) ride.  The car ride consisted mostly of my driver and I being stuck in roundabout traffic.  No, I actually mean traffic within the city's many roundabouts.  (and for my New England friends that refuse to understand anything outside of New England vernacular, I'm talking about a rotary.  And to everyone else that comes from places that just have normal intersections, I mean "one of those traffic cirle things").  There are very few stop lights or crossroad intersections in Kampala/Entebbe.  Instead, intersecting roads are dealt with via traffic circles, and during rush hour or anytime anyone needs to go to the airport things get pretty backed up. 

My driver didn't seem to care, he was probably annoyed that it was the third muzungu this week he had to take to the airport for the 11:30 pm KLM flight out of dodge. About 45 minutes in to the trip, having only driven about 3 or 4 miles within Kampala, trying to ignore street vendors tapping on the windows wandering through traffic selling toilet paper, children's floaties, screwdrivers (the tool, not the cocktail), and a few cell phone cases, he smiles positively to me and says "Only three more roundabouts to get out of Kampala and then the real jam starts".  I started to notice that sun was setting quickly.  And remembered that it was tropically bright when I left the hotel a while back. 

Finally on the road to go to the airport, traffic was free and clear.  No street lights, lots of night markets zooming buy and very minimal beeping.  Hadn't really remembered the drive from the aiport being so long.  Then again, that drive was coming off a 24 hour trip, arriving at midnight, and barely even realizing that someone was trying to walk off with my suitcase right in front of me at baggage claim. 

Everything's going good, smooth sailing, and then of course, a detour.  A big sign on the road directed us to the "airport detour road" off left.  And by "road" we mean, dirt road.  And by "detour", we mean random security check point before entering the airport compound.  Luckily, I'm traveling in a Save the Children marked vehicle with multiple "no guns" stickers on the windows, so I'm thinking this really shouldn't be a problem.  No guns, no bombs, no problem, right?? Wrong.

The guard comes over, the driver rolls down the window.  The obligatory African cordial greetings of "good evening" and "you are welcome" are exchanged.  And then the security guard/soldier/rifle gun armed man of justice and order asks us, " 'Save the Children' from what?".  Hmm...actually a pretty good question.  I was cursing myself that I hadn't yet downloaded a mobile PDF version of Save the Children's Strategic Plan for Impact for Children through 2017 so I could rigorously explain our 7 strategic initiatives to create lasting impact for kids across the globe at this moment.  I knew that I should have spent a bit more time wandering around the intranet before my first trip with Save.

Nevertheless, I (and not the driver, just me) was made to get out, on the dirt road, pitch black of night, on the side of the airport road (of which no airport was in site) to walk through a metal detector and searched for firearms.  A lot of good those "No Guns" stickers do on our vehicles. 

Ok, ok, this is a lot of time spent describing a car ride.  Let's fast foward to the airport terminal business lounge.  It was lovely. There was a waterfall, a massagey chair (like those ones at Sharper Image...it probably was from Sharper Image, actually) and an open bar and a samosa bar.  Yep, a smorgasboard of samosas.  Well this is just fantastic.  I plopped myself down on one of the leather couches in front of a huge flat screen tuned in to CNN International, supplied with a cocktail and plate of samosas and settled in for my two-plus hour wait until it was time to board.  A quick scan around the lounge revealed no one else pining over a USAID branded proposal document and no other generally "NGO-ey" type personas, so I knew it was just me and the samosas and Anderson Cooper for the win. 

Suddenly, a middle aged gentlemen wearing denim shorts below the knee (gasp...male euro shorts) had situated himself in my area, with a Brussels Airline ticket in hand.  I thought to myself, "Perfect, we're not the same flight so we don't have any initial commonalities that would warrant conversation".  Until, in his American accent, he asked me, "Are you European?".  I said, "No", he scoffed and went back to watching Anderson as well.  Then, a very elderly Jesuit priest, soon to find out, his travel companion, came down and sat next to him.  Well, I realized I was going to have to find out what this was all about, but I still had no desire to actually converse.  And, I was even more happy that they weren't on my flight.  Not that I'm opposed to being around priests, I actually am quite intrigued by their lifestyle.  However, Lois (most know her as my mother) always told me to be uneasy with being on the same plane as a priest, because, by nature, they are always doing whatever they can to be closer to God, and being high up in a plane "physically" brings them closer, and God probably listens to them more, and....well, you can figure out the rest of this ironic tradgedy from there.  I thought about calling Lois to make a joke about this, but realized we don't joke with mothers of only children while en route traveling from Africa in the middle of the night. 

The priest's travel companion proceeded to throw down the free drinks like he was a one man focus group for testing a new make of communion wine.  I mean, this poor waitress couldn't keep up with him fast enough.  After eavesdropping on their conversations about bishops, orphanages, and business class tickets purchased by the archidioses, I realized they were both priests.  Apparently euro denim manpris are the new reform attire.  The un-eucharized communion wine kept flowing and very soon after, Father Euro Shorts decided he needed to take a break to use the facilities.  Unfortunatley, he never made it. Where he did make it was faceplanted on top of me on a couch in the business lounge.  I believe he passed out for a quick second or two before he rolled off of me on to the floor, in to the coffee table which in turn spilled my drink all over his euro shorts. Essentially, as a result it appeared as if he had urinated himself.  Ironic, but not. 

Welp, it was clear that spot wasn't working out for me, so I packed it up and moved closer to the waterfall.  Spiritual peace wasn't in the cards for me this everning, so I thought I'd go for a more natural approach.  The waitress brought me over a drink to replace the one that had spilled and asked me, "Just don't get as drunk as those priests over there, OK?".  Now, I will admit, once or twice in my life, I have embibed myself a tad too much, and those faithful steads with me have had to, ON OCCASION help steer me back on course.  I've gotten the, "Don't be that guy", the, "Hey buddy slow down, there's enough open bar for everyone", perhaps even the, "Jeff, it's really not acceptable to pop bottles at staff meetings", but never have I been advised to not to get as drunk as a priest.  That one, is one for the books. 

I finish my replacement cocktail and my replacement samosas (Ok, lets not lie, the orignial samosas were long gone before Father St. Jameson knocked all my stuff over), and headed to the gate to board my overnight flight to Amsterdam.  I get on the plane and there's somoene sitting in my seat, my aisle seat.  The lady politely told me to take the window seat, the aisle seat is for her.  Don't mess with my aisle seats on international flights.  Simple fix, I just pulled out my boarding pass, rubbed my knee caps a little bit and told her I'm sorry I really need to take the aisle because of my bad knees.  Ok fine, I don't have bad knees, but I work for an NGO and we can't fly business class because "we're a charity" and so therefore I have to make sure I have ample access to the KLM wine ladies so I can drink myself to sleep.  My seat pirate was not happy with this and got up and moved to someone else's aisle seat, and promptly got kicked out.  I could tell she had travel companions around me as she went up to the flight attendant and pleaded her case gesturing towards me and everyone else on the plane. 

We're about ready to push back, and I see the gate agent come on to the plane with that infamous "list". You know what list I'm talking about, the 1993 prefeorated computer paper print out with the holes on the side, when they have to awkardly pull somoene off the plane for some sort of "ticketing mishap".  Gulp.  I know things have calmed down since 9/11, but I still have a slight fear that sometimes my last name, tan skin, and usually non-shaved face create a perfect combo for a "ticketing mishap" right before take off.  I see her coming down my aisle.  Printout in hand, two boarding passes in hand, peering up at the row numbers, stopping at mine.

"Sir, boarding pass please".  Looking at her as if she held my life in my hands, contemplating how I'm going to explain to my boss why I got thrown off the overnight flight out of Uganda, wondering why my love for free wine on long flights has caused me to act so ruthlessly, I hand my ticket over to her.  She looks at, looks at her list, rips it it half, puts in her pocket. 

"Its your lucky day, Mr. Haddad, you've been upgraded to business class".  I actually said to her, "You're shitting me?!".  Not good, not polite, I know, I'm sorry, Lois.  She said, "I'm not shitting on you, and they certainly won't in business class either". 

And, herein, as a result, my first complete blog post.  Hope it was as enjoyable for you to read as it was for me to write.  Cheers.