Our Phnom Penh adventure started off as, well, an adventure. We arrived with a hotel/guesthouse in mind, and once we got to the Indochine II, we were fairly satisfied with the place. Although very basic and spartan, it appeared to be spotless. We went out for a beer or two and some food, and when we returned, to our horror, we found the floor covered in what I can only hope were ants and not bedbugs. [NB: We are still debating whether or not bedbugs are actually visible to the naked human eye; I attempted to Wikipedia bedbugs, but Sneaky and Fritz forcibly grabbed my laptop and closed the window, effectively saving me from myself.] Coupled with the fact that the A/C did not appear to be working--and the temperature here is approximately 90 degrees at night, with 80% humidity--we were displeased, to say the least.
After a few shrieks emanated from all our throats (Fritz, I discovered, is actively scared of bugs) we had a brief discussion as to whether or not we should bolt, then quickly grabbed our bags, and left. The staff did not seem particularly surprised nor sympathetic, and we managed to get out of there paying ½ the agreed-to rate, a grand total of USD $15.
From there, we decided to hold court at the Riverside Café, where we could enjoy a beer or a fruit shake, watch some English premiere league soccer, use their free wi-fi, and debate our options. A quick tuk-tuk ride over to a place called The Pavilion turned out to be fruitless, as they were all booked up for the next. A place just a few blocks away, however, showed us to a sparkling room with a charming balcony and some pumping A/C. We had seen all we needed to see and we were exhausted, so we gladly took the room and called it a night.
Leaving the buggy, waterfront guesthouse was the best decision we’ve made so far. The place we ended up, the Blue Lime, is a super laid-back oasis behind a big, sliding wooden door. It’s down a little alley that’s tucked away from the rotting garbage and insane traffic (more on that in a moment) on the streets of Phnom Penh.
So, the traffic in Phnom Penh is epic. It it perhaps best described as a giant game of chicken, the participants of which include backpacker pedestrians, families of up to five on a single moped, the Lexus SUVs of high-ranking Cambodian government officials, and tuk-tuks driven by the most relentless and fearless drivers imaginable. Traffic lights do not exist, and where they do, they are ignored. There is no right nor left lane. There are no dotted nor solid lines. Potholes the sizes of craters are abundant, and some roads aren’t paved at all. In true New York fashion, we did learn that if you approach the curb with authority and confidence, the Moped Madness will stop for a nanosecond so as to allow you to cross.
After a few shrieks emanated from all our throats (Fritz, I discovered, is actively scared of bugs) we had a brief discussion as to whether or not we should bolt, then quickly grabbed our bags, and left. The staff did not seem particularly surprised nor sympathetic, and we managed to get out of there paying ½ the agreed-to rate, a grand total of USD $15.
From there, we decided to hold court at the Riverside Café, where we could enjoy a beer or a fruit shake, watch some English premiere league soccer, use their free wi-fi, and debate our options. A quick tuk-tuk ride over to a place called The Pavilion turned out to be fruitless, as they were all booked up for the next. A place just a few blocks away, however, showed us to a sparkling room with a charming balcony and some pumping A/C. We had seen all we needed to see and we were exhausted, so we gladly took the room and called it a night.
Leaving the buggy, waterfront guesthouse was the best decision we’ve made so far. The place we ended up, the Blue Lime, is a super laid-back oasis behind a big, sliding wooden door. It’s down a little alley that’s tucked away from the rotting garbage and insane traffic (more on that in a moment) on the streets of Phnom Penh.
So, the traffic in Phnom Penh is epic. It it perhaps best described as a giant game of chicken, the participants of which include backpacker pedestrians, families of up to five on a single moped, the Lexus SUVs of high-ranking Cambodian government officials, and tuk-tuks driven by the most relentless and fearless drivers imaginable. Traffic lights do not exist, and where they do, they are ignored. There is no right nor left lane. There are no dotted nor solid lines. Potholes the sizes of craters are abundant, and some roads aren’t paved at all. In true New York fashion, we did learn that if you approach the curb with authority and confidence, the Moped Madness will stop for a nanosecond so as to allow you to cross.
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