I’d imagined Saigon in post-colonial elegance, but instead, it’s a post-industrial metropolis, a swirl of scooters driven by candy colored helmeted 19 year olds, nearly 9 million of them. I was absolutely wrong, Saigon was not the city I was looking for.
The good news is that Phnom Penh absolutely is. The fine grace of the temple and pagoda rooflines stands out against the French colonial architecture, river boats come and go at the waterfront, and there’s a style here that makes a person feel like they’re in a movie.
We had cocktails on the balcony at the Foreign Correspondents Club, the ceiling fans spin quietly above, the traffic buzzes and honks below, the mosquitoes find the one spot on your ankle where you’ve neglected to apply bug juice. It is hot and humid, so we are languid and lazy. It’s perfect.
There is, of course, a lot of ugly poverty and pollution, still, the air is thick and dirty, the river is brown and soupy. But I already know we are not spending enough time here.
Weather: 85+ and humid
Health: Still got that damn cough, but I really feel fine.
Funny: We took a cyclo ride around town. Trust me, it was funny.
I’d write more but this connection is just terrible. More to come.
Lovely to read you. I’ve been avoiding it, simply because I love what you’re doing so much and it’s so grey here in Belgium and blah blah blah … you know how it is.
And finally, I made time to come over for a good read and loved what I found. Sounds truly fabulous!
xo