Rags alongside Riches

Probably my main impression of Phnom Penh, during my first few weeks here, is that there is absolutely no zoning. It was really overwhelming for me to see glitz and modernity alongside utter poverty. (My neighborhood, which recently exploded with new development, is somewhat more extreme than in other areas.) To illustrate this idea, let me show you my daily walk to school.

Every morning around 7, I leave my pink building and make the brief 5-minute trek to Logos.

I pass a small car wash filled with young guys and my small friends Bara and Pei, then this bar/cafe where the workers sleep on the tables inside the mosquito nets.

So what if this Internet cafe probably runs rampant with computer viruses, if its computers' speakers never seem to work, or if the Internet is slow at best and sometimes out completely? I love the colors and the family who runs it. (They taught me my first number in Khmer: muy poan, meaning 1000. 1000 riel or 25 cents is the price of an hour there.) And you can't beat the location, at least not unless my laptop is picking up free wi-fi in my apartment, as it is tonight.

Psar Toul Kork, the market in my neighborhood, is conveniently located at a 30-second walk from my front door. It's well-stocked with cheap plastic stuff (including kitchenware and cleaning supplies), cheap clothes, and produce. It's also home to about 12 different hairstylists. For under $4, I left with a rug, 20 clothes hangers, carrots, beans, and a spray bottle. Three of the hangers have since broken. The greatest thing about it is that it's a landmark known by every moto/tuk tuk driver, meaning they can bring me home from downtown with no problem.

Barely a block from my house is the worst housing I've seen so far: a line of wooden buildings that always seem about to collapse, backing up to a field full of trash.

The front of the recycling center, which makes it sound fancy and official, but which is really just a big dilapidated building with some extra pieces and a bunch of people hanging out with recycled materials. Notice the red sign and the ivory fence in the back left: the side of the hospital adjoins the recycling place.

The middle worker at the recycling center sports typical Cambodian accessories: a wide-brimmed hat wrapped in a krama, a multipurpose scarf that gets a lot of mileage here.

I guess recycled cardboard is a thriving industry here; people walk around every morning carrying wagons and squeaking a rubber horn so that everyone knows to come outside and hand over their recyclables, which end up on big trucks like this one.

It looks like a mansion. It's actually just a real estate office. It's about 100 yards, maybe, from the recycling center.

Reminders of Cambodia's Buddhist majority are everywhere: usually some kind of gold house like this, where people can leave offerings for their ancestors.

This hospital is spiffy and brand-new. But apparently the quality is pretty low for anything significant. This is true across the board in Cambodia; for anything bigger than a straightforward broken bone, you really need to leave the country to get adequate
medical care.

My walk ends at Logos, whose pleasant airy courtyard is usually filled with children and teens in blue, maroon, and white collared shirts. This is my building, with the principal's wife and daughter leaving the main office.