Reflections from Cambodia: Toul Tom Poung

With sweaty palms, I clutch my daughter's sides, leaving what I'm confident are wet wrinkles in her tee shirt. We're off to Toul Tom Poung, or the famous Russian Market, in Phnom Penh. Motorcycles or motos as everyone here calls them are a common sight. Only a handful of times have I ridden on one, however. I lean into Rachel for protection, and my visor bumps into her helmet as she careens in and out of traffic. So proud of my daughter who's been driving a moto for several months now.

We slow up and snake into a parking space beside a row of other motos. The attendant tags the bike, for all of approximately 12 cents US currency. A multitude of people mill about, some Khmer, others foreign. A gaping black hole signals the entrance to the market. Once inside, life takes over in a ream of color and activity. The Cambodian version of an American mall.

Adjacent vendor booths boast everything from hardware to hairspray. Cambodian clothing and keepsakes, jewelry, stationary, wooden items, kitchenware, and food galore spread from one end of the narrow brick aisle to the other, with many offshoot aisles to wander (and get lost in). Pans of fresh veggies and fish (one still crawling around) urge shoppers over for a look see.

Rachel practices her purchase negotiations in Khmer, with an exchange of nods and smiles with the vendors, and I walk away with two Cambodian wrap-around skirts for $8 US. Nice going, Rachel. 

After we exhaust our efforts at Toul Tom Poung, we straddle the moto once more for a stop at the small grocer. I browse the aisles to check prices, passing a spirit house in the process. Buddha sits inside. An apple on a plate rests in front of the tiny house alongside a cup of coffee. I'd just complained to my husband, Chuck, that very morning about how much I longed for an apple. And here sat a big, juicy one! It took all my willpower not to grab that lovely familiar fruit.

Back home with our treasures, I climb the two flights of steps to our bedroom, plop on the bed and gaze out the barred window to the neighbor's house. It's lunchtime, so the family eats on a mat on their lanai, the food spread out in bowls.

My stomach growls as the lunch bell rings, signaling me back down the long flights of steps.

A fine morning at Toul Tom Poung with at least one more shopping day planned.

For a video glimpse of Toul Tom Poung, see the next post.