Phnom Penh at Night

Yesterday after work, I went with some friends to play tennis at the Olympic Stadium. One friend (Andrea) plays piano with me at the Art Café, and the others are her friends (Elijah and Sina). Andrea is from Ohio and teaches at a Bible school here. I’m not exactly sure what Elijah and Sina do, but I think they may work at the same school. Anyway, we met at to play tennis at 6, and it gets dark around 6:30. The lights didn’t come on, and we didn’t know how to turn them on, so we ended up playing in the dark most of the time, which wasn’t too much worse than playing in the daylight. After “tennis” we went to get something to eat.

We ended up at a Chinese dumpling place that Andrea and Elijah had been to once before. Only this time, they were out of dumplings. You would think that in the heart of Phnom Penh, a Khmer (Sina) and two people who speak Khmer fluently (both Andrea and Elijah have been here for almost three years) could get by anywhere. You would be wrong. This restaurant was completely Chinese, and only the ice girl spoke any Khmer. We managed to order by asking whether they had [insert generic food, like “fried vegetables”] and then waiting for someone to run to the kitchen and check. Lather, rinse, repeat five or six times until we got three dishes (two of which were good).

We had a nice night. I was on the back of Andrea’s motorcycle (which always gets me funny looks – an apparently Cambodian guy behind a white girl is unheard of). I love riding on a motorcycle through the streets of Phnom Penh around 8pm. The traffic is a little thinner, but the city feels like an aspiring Hong Kong. Exhaust bites every sense – it burns your eyes and drowns your nostrils. You can’t really talk over the din of old cars and motorcycles, but at the same time, I always feel so peaceful. Dodging motorcycles, we ride through the cool air that is only available at night during this time of year, under a canopy of neon lights. I know I should feel anxious, especially since my life is in the hands of whoever is driving the motorcycle I’m on, as well as those of everyone around me who may or may not decide not to hit us. But anxiety is the last thing on my mind. I love it.