I've been looking for a place to live the past few days thanks to postings and advice from Khmer440, Expat Advisory, friendly tuk tuk drivers and some random real estate agents I found on the net. I'm not driving around looking for signs, that's for sure. So far, I think I've seen at least a dozen places and as usual, I'm less than satisfied with all of them. Of course, if I increased the amount I was willing to spend, I'm sure I wouldn't find myself in the all-too-familiar predicament of not being able to make a decision. You get what you fucking pay for!
A few days ago, upon arriving in Phnom Penh as a resident rather than my usual tourist status, I couldn't even begin to tell you about any districts in this city other than the Riverside. But after having 'braved' the traffic - it's nothing compared to Saigon - and ventured far from my previous comfort zone I am now more knowledgeable of at least a few others, most notably BKK1, BKK2 and BKK3. However, I still can't pronounce what the letters actually stand for so it's essentially useless when talking to locals who don't use the acronym.
I have to say, Phnom Penh is way better with a motorbike! There is only so much exploring you can do on foot and only so much I can allocate to taking public and private means of transport on a daily basis. Tuk tuks and moto taxis are cheap when used infrequently, but they add up when you are constantly on the go. Having your own motorbike is essential. I've been learning where things are, discovering new restaurants, seeing where the police hide and realizing that the waiting time at traffic lights is far far too long. The timers seem to use real seconds as opposed to the machines on crack in Vietnam.
So, today after checking out a decent one bedroom in one of the aforementioned BKK districts, the friendly tuk tuk driver called me about a room in the Riverside area. Not my first option, but it was only $200 and worth a look. Of course, it turned out to really be $250, but still quite cheap for the area. I had low expectations. We waited about 45 minutes for someone with a key to show up and eventually I was being led down an alley, down another even narrower alley and up some dirty steps into the relative darkness past a number of other local residences. No fucking way, I thought.
We passed a old woman washing her saggy breasts in what might have been a shared public washroom. I didn't stop to check for lumps. We eventually got to a gate. Oh, this actually looks pretty nice. The guy eventually got it unlocked. One meter past this iron gate was the front door with three, yes three more padlocks. This seems safe, I thought. The amount of time he spent fumbling with the keys was definitely enough time to get robbed, ass raped and beaten over the head with a stray piece of rebar. I was shaking my head, fuck no, while we waited, but I still wanted to see what lied on the other side.
The inside was like an oasis compared to the outside. There as a large kitchen with high ceilings and pearly white tiles. And a large adjoining bathroom. And there was another door with yet another lock! We pushed on and inside door number three was a pretty sweet little one bedroom. A furnished bedroom that reeked a little of stale cigarettes and a large living area with a long black couch, desk, enormous wardrobe and an Anchor beer fridge that would have taken me a year to empty if it had been full. And there was a balcony overlooking street 136 leading to the hostess bars and the river.
Once inside, it was easy to forget about the outside. I could live here, I thought. I would be comfortable here. If only there was a spiral staircase leading to the sidewalk below. But there wasn't and there never would be. The guy assured me that the place was safe and mentioned all the other tenants in the building including the bar girls. That enticed me a little as I leaned my head to one side and squinted my eyes. Really? As we walked out of the place, back into the unfortunate reality, I pictured rats running down the stairwell and getting clobbered over the head with a 2 x 4. And then I noticed a sign in both English and Khmer warning about the recent rise in thefts in the building. Sign me up!
Yeah, I have officially decided against that one, but it was far and away the best on the inside. I think the tuk tuk driver was a little sad to see me so blatantly dismiss it, but I'm not one for taking my chances, especially not if they involve my life. Not that I consider Khmer people dangerous, far from it, but I don't want to ever worry about getting home in one piece. I probably would have always been scurrying like a rat to make my way down that alley and up those stairs, squeezing my body through the gate and under the door to the tranquility that lied within. Instead, I remain at the hotel hopeful that tomorrow I will find the one. The end.
A few days ago, upon arriving in Phnom Penh as a resident rather than my usual tourist status, I couldn't even begin to tell you about any districts in this city other than the Riverside. But after having 'braved' the traffic - it's nothing compared to Saigon - and ventured far from my previous comfort zone I am now more knowledgeable of at least a few others, most notably BKK1, BKK2 and BKK3. However, I still can't pronounce what the letters actually stand for so it's essentially useless when talking to locals who don't use the acronym.
I have to say, Phnom Penh is way better with a motorbike! There is only so much exploring you can do on foot and only so much I can allocate to taking public and private means of transport on a daily basis. Tuk tuks and moto taxis are cheap when used infrequently, but they add up when you are constantly on the go. Having your own motorbike is essential. I've been learning where things are, discovering new restaurants, seeing where the police hide and realizing that the waiting time at traffic lights is far far too long. The timers seem to use real seconds as opposed to the machines on crack in Vietnam.
So, today after checking out a decent one bedroom in one of the aforementioned BKK districts, the friendly tuk tuk driver called me about a room in the Riverside area. Not my first option, but it was only $200 and worth a look. Of course, it turned out to really be $250, but still quite cheap for the area. I had low expectations. We waited about 45 minutes for someone with a key to show up and eventually I was being led down an alley, down another even narrower alley and up some dirty steps into the relative darkness past a number of other local residences. No fucking way, I thought.
We passed a old woman washing her saggy breasts in what might have been a shared public washroom. I didn't stop to check for lumps. We eventually got to a gate. Oh, this actually looks pretty nice. The guy eventually got it unlocked. One meter past this iron gate was the front door with three, yes three more padlocks. This seems safe, I thought. The amount of time he spent fumbling with the keys was definitely enough time to get robbed, ass raped and beaten over the head with a stray piece of rebar. I was shaking my head, fuck no, while we waited, but I still wanted to see what lied on the other side.
The inside was like an oasis compared to the outside. There as a large kitchen with high ceilings and pearly white tiles. And a large adjoining bathroom. And there was another door with yet another lock! We pushed on and inside door number three was a pretty sweet little one bedroom. A furnished bedroom that reeked a little of stale cigarettes and a large living area with a long black couch, desk, enormous wardrobe and an Anchor beer fridge that would have taken me a year to empty if it had been full. And there was a balcony overlooking street 136 leading to the hostess bars and the river.
Once inside, it was easy to forget about the outside. I could live here, I thought. I would be comfortable here. If only there was a spiral staircase leading to the sidewalk below. But there wasn't and there never would be. The guy assured me that the place was safe and mentioned all the other tenants in the building including the bar girls. That enticed me a little as I leaned my head to one side and squinted my eyes. Really? As we walked out of the place, back into the unfortunate reality, I pictured rats running down the stairwell and getting clobbered over the head with a 2 x 4. And then I noticed a sign in both English and Khmer warning about the recent rise in thefts in the building. Sign me up!
Yeah, I have officially decided against that one, but it was far and away the best on the inside. I think the tuk tuk driver was a little sad to see me so blatantly dismiss it, but I'm not one for taking my chances, especially not if they involve my life. Not that I consider Khmer people dangerous, far from it, but I don't want to ever worry about getting home in one piece. I probably would have always been scurrying like a rat to make my way down that alley and up those stairs, squeezing my body through the gate and under the door to the tranquility that lied within. Instead, I remain at the hotel hopeful that tomorrow I will find the one. The end.
No comments:
Post a Comment