I’m finally on my way to finding an apartment, and interestingly, the moto and tuk-tuk drivers of the city are significantly affecting my search. Right now, I’m staying in an area of the city called Bang Kang Kong, which, as I’ve mentioned before, is one of the nicer areas of the city. There are lots of foreigners here, it’s aesthetically very attractive, and it has a ton of restaurants (though fewer local ones than most other areas). In being here for a little over two weeks, though, I’ve decided that it’s someplace that I’d like to live near but not directly in the middle of. Although it’s very attractive and the restaurants are good, it’s also a place that you could experience if you were an adventurous tourist willing to try someplace other than the riverfront, and because so many tourists do come through the area, many people who actually live here for a year or more are treated that way too, which gets frustrating after a while. Although people in restaurants are friendly, because so many expats come through, they are no more friendly than waiters and waitresses are all over the world and seem to be simply that: waiters and waitresses (though even in this area, not always). In contrast, when I’ve ventured into other nearby areas with a larger Cambodian population, all of a sudden, the eating experience becomes much richer. It feels more like you are eating with the people who own the restaurant rather than feeling like you are simply eating at their restaurant. It’s also not uncommon to share tables with strangers at these places if all of the tables are full.
In general, there is not enough work to go around, and there are numerous tuk-tuk and moto drivers around. As a foreigner, one is asked about once every step if you want a ride. In general, it’s something to empathize with since these people are so desiring work. At the same time, having only been here for just over two weeks, I have already started getting extremely frustrated by their sales pitches. No, I am not “your friend.” In fact, I’ve never seen you before. Some of the most extreme cases have been two men running up to me as I pulled in on another moto to my destination. They insistently suggested that I wanted a moto ride. Actually, considering I hadn’t even stepped off of the bike I was on yet, I probably would have just asked the person I was already with to take me to where I really wanted to go if that wasn’t it. I also probably wouldn’t be getting off the bike I was on if I didn’t actually want to end up where I was at that time. Also, the drivers on my block recognize me by now, and it would be nice not to be harassed when walking literally across the street back to my room when they know that I live there. No I don’t need a motorbike to go the 15 feet across the street.
In neighborhoods like these, because there are so many foreigners, people don’t really recognize each other. Therefore, while there are other areas of the city where people staying for a long period of time would be recognized as living there, here, there’s much less of that. In fact, my moto driver Buntha (who I love and will talk about later) introduced me to one of his friend Polo, who is a tuk-tuk driver. We’ve chatted numerous times, and just like with Buntha, when I became familiar to him and he became familiar to me, all of a sudden we both became real people rather than fairs and rides. Anyway, when I came out to look for Buntha one time, I didn’t see him and just went up to one of the tuk-tuk drivers to ask if he knew where he was. He quickly replied by asking if I wanted a ride. Then, we both actually looked at each other at the same time, and you could tell we both felt stupid. All of a sudden we asked how the other was doing, chatted for a few minutes, and Polo proceeded to call Buntha for me. But until we actually looked at each other, there was no legitimate interaction.
Anyway, the point of me explaining the motorbike drivers is to give a hint at why I want to live slightly outside this otherwise ideal area of the city. So I’m looking for an area near enough to here for it to be accessible and attractive but far enough away to minimize the moto drivers and to see them as neighbors and to be seen as a neighbor as well.
It felt weirdly grown up, but I’ve met up with a real estate agent and have started looking at places. I haven’t found the one, but I have found some that I’d be happy with, as well as some that I could instantly cross off the list. In general, wedding cake-style seems to be the most sought after style. The more fake columns and gaudy trim, the better.
Also, although this was somewhat of a rant against the moto drivers of Phnom Penh, I do also see the other side, which makes the whole issue complicated and more interesting. It’s strange how little of a culture there is of walking here, which I enjoy doing. If someplace is only a few blocks away, I usually just walk there. Although having just heard me say no to the driver 2 feet in font of someone would probably indicate that I still don’t want a ride 2 feet later, some of the time, I think the drivers ask so much because they assume that, if I am walking, I must not have been able to find a motorbike yet (as inconceivable as that seems with so many around). For this, I’ve learned the phrase, “da ling,” which means something like “walking for pleasure.”
Also, Buntha, who has been driving me regularly, is great. I go with him about every day, and we greet each other in the morning when I go out for breakfast. I’ve met his son, who has come with him to pick me up from the university sometimes. (I’ve perfected the three on a bike Asian-style of riding at this point. I have yet to do four, which I think is impossible for someone of my size, but I feel very authentic when we pack three on the bike). When it was raining last Wednesday, Buntha bought me a poncho to bring when he picked me up at the University. I actually already had my raincoat on since I bring it everywhere now that it’s the rainy season. I tried to explain that to him and then realized that it was both pointless and probably better if I didn’t anyway. Anyway, I was boiling by the time I got home since I was wearing my teaching clothes covered with my raincoat covered with a big plastic poncho, but I was dry and I certainly appreciated the gesture that Buntha made for more than just the dryness. He doesn’t have the fastest bike, but it’s nice and sturdy, and the fact that we can’t go too fast probably makes it safer anyway.
I’ve talked with him many times now to as in depth a level as we’re able to go with his English, and I enjoy the rides that I take with him every day. I found out that he also works as a security guard from 10PM-6AM. He explained to me that many people don’t have work and that most jobs pay very low. He wasn’t complaining but just explaining. And when I think about everything from this perspective, I think how stupid I feel for getting annoyed by all of the moto drivers asking every second if I want a ride.