Charlie Dittmeier's Home Page
The rainy season starts in late May or early June. It seems to be starting a little later each year now. But it’s in full force already this year.
This is Street 53BT where I live in Phnom Penh. We occasionally get some water pooled up but today we had a prolonged heavy downpour and this water will be with us for a day or so. It was deep enough that my pedals were going in the water as I rode my bicycle through the flood.
When we drove the 175 miles to Battambang for the anniversary of the Daughters of Charity, it took six hours on the road. That made me take notice when I saw the headline in the Khmer Times about high-speed trains being successfully tested in Cambodia.
Alas, the article said that successful test will mean the introduction of “high-speed” trains going 18 to 30 MPH on the one line going south from Phnom Penh, and going 30-50 MPH on the northbound line. It’s still faster to drive than to take a high-speed train.
Most Cambodians do not work in offices or factories. The large majority work in the rice paddies and fields. And most of the rest work in shops and businesses set up in their homes, in the informal economy. In the informal economy, there is a lot of down time–sitting and waiting for customers. Above, the man on the left is a crossing guard, helping customers for a store get across the street. The man on the right is a motorcycle taxi drive–a vanishing breed–waiting for a fare.
“I’d like that small one on the bottom of the pile…”
Those who remember the old days in Phnom Penh–basically the pre-Covid era–will remember Friends, the NGO that cared for children at risk, kids who were deaf or blind, street children, children of fishing families living on boats.
One of Friends’trademark initiatives was the Friends Restaurant, staffed by ex-street children, the only place in Phnom Penh where you could get deep-friend tarantula.
The restaurant didn’t survive the Covid shutdowns but now a welcome sign gives notice that a newly renamed “Friends Kitchen” will soon open on Street 13.
Here’s what the locals wear when riding in a trailer pulled by a motorcycle in 100ºF weather.
Reminds me of the old days long ago when Dad would pack Mom and us kids into the station wagon and we would go for a Sunday drive along Highway 111 along the river in Indiana.
I don’t like to cook–and don’t even have a stove in my house, just a microwave. Cambodia has many of these food stalls–simple shops set up on the street where a woman or a family cooks 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 or more big pots of what the Cambodians call “food,” i.e., something to be eaten with rice which in Cambodian culture is NOT food.
Once every week or so, I go to a food stall near my house and lift the lids of the six pots there to see what has been prepared. I look for things I might like and also look for the chopped red chilies in a pot. Those pots I REALLY avoid.
I tell the cook I want enough food for four people and give her a plastic box to put it in and then I ask for enough rice for four people and give another plastic box for that. Then I go home and each night of the week I eat the same thing fired up in the microwave. Supper for five nights costs me $6.25.
I’m not much of a cook. Going to the seminary at age 14 put a real crimp in my culinary skills. For lunch every day I eat a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and an apple. For dinner, once a week I buy four or five servings of some dish at a rice street stall and eat the same thing every night for a week.
Occasionally, though, I might get curious and try something–if it’s simple enough. I love macaroni and cheese and heard that it was simple so I gave it a try this evening. My big problem: I don’t have a stove, just a microwave and a hot water kettle. I just heated some water, dropped the macaroni in for 8 or 9 minutes (not really cooking it like the box calls for), and it all turned out well and added a little fillip to my nightly offering from the rice stall.