maybe it's the third world, maybe it's his first time around

One thing I love about my new apartment is that it has a balcony; this affords a great view of both Sothearos Boulevard as well as the Phnom Penh skyline, but what I really like about it is that it gives me a chance to watch the city while being removed from it at the same time. It's true that the most accurate impressions of Phnom Penh come as you're fighting your way through the streets on foot or careening around corners on a tuk tuk, but as a white Westerner, even in a town as Western-friendly as Phnom Penh, I still feel like an anomaly. Sitting four floors up and watching the city move along somehow makes me feel like I can spectate what it's really like without interfering.

Sitting up there and watching the city also makes me more introspective; I remember saying in an earlier post that I was going to wait until I had adjusted and gotten more comfortable before I related my impressions of Phnom Penh. I'm both adjusted and comfortable (relatively speaking), but I'm still at a loss for a description of this country that would come off as anything but rambling and counterintuitive.

Before I left, my friend Alicia tried to prepare me for all the contradictions and inconsistencies that somehow seem to coexist, even to thrive, at the same time in Phnom Penh. She was completely right; I'm in a town where English is often spoken poorly if at all, but dollar bills come out of the ATM machines. Even then, you get your change in Cambodian riel; if you handed someone a quarter they'd hand it right back to you. This is a country that has just recovered from a civil war and a genocide that eradicated one third of the population, yet the people show a kindness that extends far beyond basic pleasantries or the requisite good manners of a customer service employee. A city where the most amazing Thai food is only a couple of dollars, but people are still so poor that barefoot children will beg for money when you leave a restaurant or supermarket. I consider myself decent at describing things in writing, but I'm not sure I'll ever be able to put this city into words that do it justice.

The other day I had just finished signing the lease with my roommate and two people that spoke little to no English, and I was kind of flustered. I told Pete that I was starting to get sick of this language barrier, to which Pete replied "Eh, it is what it is." I found that phrase popping back in my head as I stood on the balcony; as of now it's the best description of Phnom Penh I can muster, and I'll be genuinely surprised if I'll find a better one between now and August. This city mixes a million contradictions together and makes it work, all the while not even acknowledging how crazy or impossible it appears to someone the likes of me.

As I was staring down at the city I heard a crashing sound, and looked over to see a Cambodian biker who, for reasons that had nothing to do with traffic, had fallen off his moto as he was driving down the street. The bike went skidding down the road, sending sparks flying everywhere, and the the driver went rolling onto the pavement. He got up in the non-chalant way a football player might after a tackle, and walked over to his bike. He got back on it and rode off as if nothing had happened, leaving a piece of his bike in the middle of the street. About 15 seconds later a couple guys on another moto drove by, looped around, and picked up the bike piece as if they had been sent by some third party and expected a random piece of moto to be sitting in the street. They drove off and casually as the guy who crashed, and the city moved on as if nothing abnormal had occurred. And I suppose nothing had by Cambodian standards; only the white guy on the balcony four floors up, standing there with his jaw wide open, was any evidence that something had just happened that could be construed as out of the ordinary. I guess it is what it is.