How is this for bitchy? I decided to have breakfast at a riverside restaurant, and as soon as I sat down a young boy tried to sell me a local English-language newspaper. I could see that the price on the newspaper has been altered with ink so when he asked for 80 cents, I refused. Then he asked for 75. I told him that’s too much. I had 2000 Riel in my wallet (about the equivalent of 50 cents), and this is what I offered. He finally accepted, but when he handed me the paper, he pointed to the phony-baloney price and said, “see, I lose money!” I snatched my 2000 Riel back and told him to go sell it to someone else. I had to tell him to leave several times. I didn’t yell, but I was curious as to whether or not steam was coming out of my ears. The restaurant manager just sat and watched while all of this was going on and after he left she asked me how much he wanted. When I told her she smiled. “My brother sells those to me for 1000 Riel.” About a quarter. My little con artist could have doubled his money, but he got greedy and tried to play the sympathy angle. Instead, he walked out empty-handed and I read the restaurant copy for free.
It was a day of negotiations. I put it off as long as I could, but I wanted to go see the Killing Fields before I left Phnom Penh. That meant negotiating a ride, and I hate dealing with cab drivers. My only advantage is that there are so many tuk-tuk and moto drivers that it leaves room for competitive pricing. The clerks at the hotel also told me that the standard amount was $8 for a tuk-tuk and $5 for a motorbike. Today must have been particularly slow because I got a tuk-tuk for $6. I felt like the Queen of Sheba in that little covered cab. As midday approached, it was nice to be out of the sun. It was also nice to see a different side of Phnom Penh. The side that tourists usually just pass through. It was far different from the manicured landscapes of the riverfront section. The tuk-tuk driver had to pull over for gasoline and as soon as we came to a stop, I had three upturned palms in the cab with me asking for handouts. I gave the little bit of change I had to a woman with a baby, and the two little boys that were passed over clung to the cab until we pulled out of the station.
My welcoming committee at the Killing Fields was another set of unfortunates. I know that I am from the wealthier country, but at what point is it okay to stop? I paid my respects to the lost lives at the monument that holds their remains. I purchased flowers for this, but also so that I had change to give the one-legged man outside of the gate. I followed the markers that led around the mass graves. Each one had some hideous little detail to add to the grisly story. It will make you shiver, even in 90-degree heat. There is also a small, but informative museum if one wants to see what a skull that has been hit with an axe looks like. After about an hour, I’d had enough and I was ready to find my tuk-tuk driver, hand out the remainder of my change, and go back to my guesthouse.
