At one point during our time in Phnom Penh, one of our colleagues asked us what our biggest culture shock was about living in Cambodia. The answer was obvious: the traffic. It took us a few days to get accustomed to the city’s traffic patterns, and to the Cambodian driving style, which brought to mind the old song “Que Sera, Sera (Whatever Will Be, Will Be)”.

Stop signs are merely suggestions. The drivers — of cars, tuk-tuks, trucks, motorbikes, bicycles, whatever — are engaged in a game of chicken involving hundreds or thousands of participants at any given time; you just head where you want to go, and assume that people are going to get out of your way or pause to let you pass. It was at first quite unnerving, especially during rush hour. Amazingly, it all seems to flow smoothly, and drivers thread the needle with superhuman agility; accidents appeared to be very rare and quite minor. And there were few instances of lost tempers.

Most of the vehicles were not cars, but motorbikes (“motos”); and we still can’t believe the kinds of loads those little scooters can carry. Not just a couple of people; sometimes whole families of as many as five people will be aboard, perhaps with the youngest child standing between the driver and the handlebars. Helmets are mostly conspicuous by their absence.

And in addition to a full house of passengers, the motos sometimes carry loads of cargo that defy all laws of physics. Impossibly tall and wide stacks of boxes, bags, appliances, and all manner of other things. Ladders. One day we even saw one transporting an IV gurney. Most of the motorists here would be stopped — and probably ticketed — by police before making it one block. But in Cambodia nobody thinks anything of it. Well, nobody except us barang (westerners).

We had to negotiate this video game of traffic in rush hour every morning and evening commuting to and from school — but fortunately only for a mile or so.

At school, we learned that we’d be substituting a couple of weeks for the regular English teacher, another American, who decided that she wanted to take time off for Christmas and New Year’s. It’s just as well, because this teacher was… well, quite a trip. Maybe we’ll get to discussing her a little in the near future.

Meanwhile, our visa extensions had arrived, so we were good for two months instead of just one. And Dennis had resumed his international dental odyssey by getting not just one, but two root canals, in adjoining teeth. After searching for a good dentist in several neighborhoods, we ended up trying one just around the corner, about 50 yards from our front door. The teeth, by the way, were calcified, so the procedures had to be done in three visits. Such fun.

The good news is that dentistry, like most other things in Cambodia, is quite cheap by American standards. That’s definitely one culture shock that we can live with.

12/11-18/2022