When Maryknoll first moved to its office on Street 320 in Phnom Penh, down below my second-floor window was a little village of ten one-room units, two strips of five units each facing each other on one house-sized lot. Access to this little community was through a narrow alley leading out to the street.
Shortly after we occupied the house, the owner of the little village moved everyone out, tore down the two strips of one-room apartments and put up a three-story metal shed in which he set up a metal fabrication company. They made steel gates, doors, and railings and such–with a lot of banging and grinding.
Now that little plot of land is being subjected to more change. The four-story building facing the street (behind which is the lot) is being extended back over the lot to make the building longer. The sheet metal walls of the fabrication shop have been removed and it seems walls of brick and concrete are being extended from the existing house to make new walls around the lot below my window. Here is a picture of a young man using a torch to cut away some of the scaffolding that held the metal walls before.



This week I was riding a motorcycle taxi through a new neighborhood and saw what I thought were the first Christmas decorations I had seen for this year. People here don’t really understand Christmas and think it is more about Santa Claus (Fr. Christmas) than about Jesus. The stores realize, though, that they can make money selling Christmas things and so when the big supermarkets, etc., that cater to the foreigners start putting up Christmas decorations, the smaller shops will follow. I thought this small shop was getting ahead of the rush, but then I realized this is the shop that is SELLING the decorations that the other stores will buy to put up in another couple weeks.
In the eighteen years I have been in Cambodia, I have seen this man numerous times over the years. He is always dressed the same: shorts, no shirt, a hat, and flipflops. He carries a large bag and picks up recyclable trash like cardboard and plastic bottles. He can’t make much given the meager scale of his operations but he seems to get by.

Tens of thousands of garment factory workers–usually young women–ride to work each day jammed, standing up, in the back of open trucks. Many of them are killed in the frequent accidents when trucks overturn and collide from speeding and throw bodies everywhere. The government’s response? “Training” drivers to obey the law and “urging” them to get driver’s licenses. That’s a neat idea.