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We have hired a tuk tuk driver to tour. He has been sitting outside the hotel our entire stay. In actuality, several tuk tuk drivers seem to be permanent fixtures in the street below our room. They have approached us to take us around the city; to various sites; and tourist destinations… each, in his own way, trying to guarantee our fare. We have chosen Sori because yesterday, he introduced himself and asked our name… his name is pronounced much like “sorry” and is spelled like the spore sacs found on the undersurface of ferns. We ask about price and agree to meet him in the AM…He will wait, he tells us, (all day I am sure) for us to be ready to depart.

We are planning on seeing bits and pieces of Phnom Penh including the Central Market, a major shopping area for locals, and the surrounding countryside. We did want to get a glimpse of the country outside the city and this will be our only opportunity. There are also a few smaller, minor Wats we would like to take a look at, even if it’s just a drive by kind of photo op. We leave tomorrow for Siem Reap.

As promised, Sori is waiting for us. He asks some general questions about how we would like to plan the day, where exactly we want him to drive, and what types of things we would like to see… and if we want to stop for pictures or anything else… just let him know. His English is very good, and he is not only a good conversationalist, he has a sense of humor, and an omnipresent smile. He gives us a few clues about camera theft and robbery from mopeds, and we always (or at least usually… I was robbed in the Paris Metro) bring with us a healthy NYC awareness, but we really do feel safe in this city.
As we leave the city and enter the suburbs they rapidly become rural, agricultural and very local. The buildings are smaller, less maintained, the roads are lined with people walking within small hamlets or villages. Many homes are on high stilts and surrounded by flooded fields. People are working in the fields in traditional conical shaped palm hats, and clothing. Carts, wagons, mopeds, and the tops of peoples head are used to gather and transport freshly harvested greens. It is obvious to us that these are not the high tourist trafficked neighborhoods of the Phnom Penh riverfront. I ask for the name of the green vegetable, Sori tells me he knows only the Khmer word “rau muong” which I later google to find that it is water spinach, a (perhaps THE) major leafy green veggie in Southeast Asian diets.

When we stop for a liter of gas, we ask about another odd, but ubiquitous sighting. Recycled bottles of Pepsi, Coke, and other liter sized bottles filled with what appeared to us to be gasoline. These curbside gas stations are part of many “mom and pop” fruit and vegetable stands. The bottles are lined up, oh so nice and neatly, in little metal shelves. Sori tells us that the (his words not mine) American gasoline is very very very much money… and cannot be afforded… we calculate it at close to $6 a gallon. In Cambodian wages, that is close to a week’s salary! The alternative is the gas that has fewer taxes, from Thailand and Viet Nam. He calls it something that sounds like “zolite”… We assume it is… Part kerosene? Alcohol? Or some other mixture…