Sunday two other interns and I went to the Russian market. This market may be smaller than the Central Market in terms of total area, but it is exponentially denser. Knockoff brands, cheaply made clothing, and tacky souvenirs crowd in so closely that the hordes of shoppers are repeatedly reduced to single file lines as we weave our way through the consumer maze. My guidebook warns that the Russian Market, while a “must-see” for tourists, should be avoided on hot days because it becomes “a literal microwave” inside. Unfortunately, the months when hot days were distinguishable are long over, so into the microwave we went.
The focus of my fellow shoppers was a positive influence: even with all the crowds and chaos, I still managed to pick up some desperately needed clothing and trinkets. (Alright, I concede, the trinkets weren’t desperately needed). Afterwards we took a tuk tuk over to a really posh pool and lounged around for hours. It was an odd feeling: I’d spent all week sweating through blouses and khakis discussing issues of genocide and justice, as I will the rest of the summer, and now here I was in an expat’s heaven. Overpriced spa-type food was only a wave away, imported greenery surrounded me, and an 8 foot concrete wall was all that separated me from the reality of Cambodia’s overwhelming poverty and corruption. And yet I feel that in some way, moments like these will be essential to maintaining my sanity.
These girls asked me to take their pictures on my way back into Phnom Penh from a nearby village, a day before entry into swanky-pool-land.
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