Fuck Time Out: Phnom Penh
Fuck Time Out champions the institutions, venues and (from now on) capital cities, that flick the vs at gentrification
At first glance one might say Phnom Penh is a bit of a shit hole. I was there not long ago, in the back of a tuk-tuk on my way into the city from the airport. I was shrouded in exhaust smoke, the roads wall-to-wall with vehicles, and I was alarmed by everyone’s utter disdain for safety standards. On that journey I saw several motorbikes turn around in the centre of the motorway and just drive in the opposite direction. I sat in the back, clinging on to my luggage, chuckling nervously to myself. How crazy these South East Asian cities are, I thought. I hope it’s a bit calmer in the centre. Twenty minutes later I’m standing in an alleyway that smells like dead cat and a motorbike’s almost run over my foot and a mosquito has flown into my eye and it looks like it’s all downhill from here.
Was I right? Yes and no. That first night I wandered through what they call the Russian market, which seemed hellish in my overwhelmed and culture shocked state. Ratty dogs roamed the streets and ladies sat hunched over dirty pots, offering me concoctions I didn’t recognise. It wasn’t so much a market as a food slum, and I decided not to eat there because everything looked like a one-way ticket to squitsville. Instead I found a Korean restaurant and ate some very average Bim Bap.
It turned out, quelle surprise, that I was behaving like an arsehole. Yes, the street food might be a one way ticket to squitsville, but I’d rather eat genuine Cambodian food that costs €1 than boring over-priced pad thai in a restaurant with a roof. All of the bad food I had in Phnom Penh was in restaurants, and all of the good food was from street cauldrons, but sadly I realised my mistake too late. By the time I’d got over my pathetic western culinary standards it was almost time to go. I did not do Phnom Penh food right.
Phnom Penh takes some adjusting to. If you walk around with your iPhone out on the street, there’s a big chance it’ll get swiped out your hand by a motor cyclist. But hey, don’t walk around with your phone out, and also don’t be a big baby about the street food. Because Phnom Penh is just being itself. It’s not sucking up to tourists with shit tons of Starbucks like Ho Chi Minh or turning over its entire identity to the west like Bangkok. Phnom Penh gives zero fucks about hygiene or roofs and to that I say yes, okay, good. Keep on stirring that floor-curry, b, and who needs shoes anyway? Because what Phnom Penh is saying, louder than any other capital city in Asia, is
Fuck
Time
Out.
-Alice Austin
