We’ve one more day in Phnom Penh, and if truth be told, we’re having trouble filling it.
There’s the Royal Palace of course, but the reviews are so so, it’s ten bucks a head, and from the sounds of it it’s not a patch on The Grand Palace in Bangkok, with large areas roped off, being renovated, or strewn with ‘NO PHOTOS’ signs, which get me grumpy. Why the hell not? It’s not like photographing the throne is going to make it any less comfy for the regal bum.
Or we could go to The National Museum, apparently stuffed to the gunwales with artworks and statuary from Angkor Wat, where else, but we reckon we’ve had our fill for the moment ta all the same. There’s a fine if petite Buddhist temple on the hill that gives the city its name, apparently, and we might give that a go if we can summon up the energy. But energy is in quite short supply right now, Virle still hacking from The Dust of Angkor Wat. So for the moment we decided to grab a tuk tuk and head over to The Russian Market – “One of the best in Southeast Asia” – for a meander.
When we arrive it looks much like many other markets we’ve visited over recent weeks – stalls piled high with cheap clothing, Sir? Madam? You buy something? – but a YouTube vid V found last night says there’s food somewhere in the middle, so that’s where we head in search of breakfast. And boy do we find it.
Pork and rice, served with a dish of tasty chilli sauce, plus a little salad of fresh and pickled vegetables that wasn’t even in the listing on the menu, and all for three dollars. Bargain. And very very tasty. And Virle’s off her grub, so when I’d polished off mine, I got to eat half of hers too. Result!
After that we continued our wander round the various sections, particularly the souvenir bit, since we still haven’t found anything for our mantelpiece, but the search will have to continue. The only thing we found that we both liked was a little Buddha, carved (it was said) from some kind of semi-translucent stone, but at $15 it was too steep for our miserly backpacker budget, so we left it and moved on. A decision we’ll probably come to rue when it’s too late to do anything about, but you have to draw lines or where would you end up, what what?
But we did enjoy the market. It had a joyful random sprawl about it: jewelry and knick-knacks, fresh fruit & veg, fish & meat, fabrics in a glorious array of colours, wickerwork, including lampshades we’d have loved to buy, if transporting them wasn’t so clearly impractical, and – my favourite – vehicle parts, with everything from indicators to shock absorbers to entire engines, old, new, what you want we have it. As the tuk tuk driver said when we told him we were from London, “Lovely jubbly!”
We had a lovely couple of hours walking the maze, but eventually the airlessness and heat got to us. And with V still under the weather, we decided to cut and run, and head back to our palatial 4th floor penthouse, strip down to essentials, and take some time out under the fan, with traffic noise burbling up from the street far below, and birds cheeping from adjacent rooftops.
In the event, Virle decided she needed rest more than additional cultural input, so I took a stroll along the river to the Wat Phnom temple, leaving her to chill. The walk along the river was pleasant in the early evening rosiness, and the temple itself was…very calming. Not a great deal to see in truth – but I was glad I’d gone, and came back in good spirits.
