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Trunkh: Cambodia-inspired quirk

Posted on March 22, 2013 by Lina Goldberg

2018 update: Unfortunately Trunkh has closed in Phnom Penh, but you can find them in Kandal Village in Siem Reap!

I’ve been meaning to post a review of Trunkh for months now — the store, which opened late last year is billed by its owners as a concept shop, and its mixture of quirky Khmer and Khmer-inspired homewares, clothing and other goodies has quickly made the place the coolest store in Phnom Penh.

Trunkh, located on Sothearos, faces Vann Molyvann’s White Building.

The owners, Doug and Marianne are longtime Asia expats. Marianne is a graphic designer and her work is found around the shop, in the form of screen-printed shirts, totes, tea towels and more. The store features a mix of old and new, but it’s all quirky and it’s all inspired by the beauty of Cambodia.

Filled with the eclectic, the quirky and the cool.

There are hand-painted Khmer signs, tributes to Vann Molyvann, funky homewares, handmade jewelry and a line of boxer shorts, shirts, skirts and pajama bottoms made from brightly-colored locally sourced fabrics. The collection featured at Trunkh (a trunkful of treasures with an extra silent h–KH is Cambodia, get it?) is quirky and eclectic and dare I say, hip. The store feels just the perfect amount of cluttered, like you’re rooting through a garage sale that features some of the coolest items you’ll find in Cambodia.

Some of Marianne’s screenprinted totes (others feature Our Boy brand condensed milk).

Trunkh will appeal to the new wave of Cambodia expats, the types that care about fashion and design and aren’t afraid to throw down a little bit of cash to pick up a knickknack or three. The store features items that would make perfect gifts but you’ll want to buy for yourself instead: tea towels in the style of a hand-painted Khmer sign that say ‘Beware of cruel dogs,’ brightly-colored passport covers and badges made from the paper of a child’s discarded notebook (these are all things I purchased on my visit there).

Trunkh has moved locations! The new address is below:

Trunkh.

Open Tuesday through Sunday, 10 a.m. – 7 p.m.
180 Street 13, near National Museum, Phnom Penh
T: 012 812 476
trunkh.com

Snaps: Fishing off the Koh Rong pier

Posted on March 21, 2013 by Lina Goldberg

Fishing off the Koh Rong pier.

When I saw these boys fishing off of one of the piers on Koh Rong, I had to get a photo. The Western boy was living on the island with his father, who was there working at one of the guesthouses. I’d seen him around, and admired his “free range” upbringing. Not the sort of lifestyle that city kids are allowed these days, but on undeveloped islands like Koh Rong it’s still possible.

He must have been fluent in Khmer, because all of his friends were the local Khmer boys who spoke almost no English. Just after this shot was taken, he turned around and gave me a withering look and then went back to fishing.

Expat Q&A: Toto, we’re not in the field anymore!

Posted on March 18, 2013 by Lina Goldberg

In this series we talk to Cambodia expats about what they wish they had known when they first moved to Cambodia that they know now.

This week we talk to Clare O’Reilly, who has been pillaging the nightlife of Cambodia since January, 2012. Originally from Sheffield, UK, she has taken to Phnom Penh like an olive to a martini. During daylight hours she has spent the last six years working in humanitarian roles with countries that have faced conflict and violence.

Clare enjoying the services of a local beauty salon.

MTC: Clare, what do you know now that you wish you had known when you first moved to Cambodia?

COR: “I’m often a mixture between Monica from friends and the Littlest Hobo when it comes to packing. Sexy image, no? Calm down boys, I’m talking here. You will often find me, sat on the floor, with neat piles of utter tosh surrounding me. Do I need my entire DVD collection in the field? Should I bring two rain macs or one? Is that even a rain mac, or did I make that from a bin liner at Halloween? I don’t own any flip-flops, but those shoes have holes in, will that do the same job? Its what I’d call “organised chaos”, and what my loved ones would call “the remnants of an H-bomb explosion”. If I’d known…well, anything…about Cambodia before I moved here, would I have been better off? I’d have had less jeans in my luggage for sure…

You land in Phnom Penh, all geared up for life “in the field”, and realise very quickly why your HQ colleagues were laughing at you for using that phrase. I’ve worked in some gnarly places, experienced long drop toilets with smells that could kill bison, and insects the size of small dogs, and guys with AK-47s in your face (Papa, if you’re reading this, it was not that dangerous, honestly). Oh, but Toto, we’re not not in the field anymore.

Because then you get to Phnom Penh. With its French restaurants, and delicatessens, and nightclubs. If I had known just how fancypants and, well, terribly lovely, my life would be here…I’d have packed more dresses. I’d have also prepared for the life less healthy. Working across from a cupcake shop, and living within walking/biking distance of innumerable food establishments has wreaked havoc on my attempts at either a local, or doctor approvable, level of food consumption. I’ve managed to stop smoking (while my $1 a day habit wasn’t breaking the bank, it was going to actually break me) and I’m gently weaning the bar owners of Phnom Penh away from using me as a sole source of funds.

It would also have prepared me to be more patient. Not with Cambodian people, who are for the most part endlessly smiley and generous and creative, and in fact patient with my shocking lack of Khmer language skills, but with the occasional exception-to-the-rule expats. With the “I’m saving lives, practically singlehandedly” types (you are not special, you are just a cog in a hopefully effective machine); the “I hate Cambodia” types (Oh my word, it takes, like, hours to get served your cocktail? Waaaaa); the “We’re needed here because the Cambodians couldn’t do it without us” types (Go boil your head); the “I’m here because I like to party, so whatever job I can get is fine man. I’ll probably just teach” types (Put the textbook down, and back slowly away); to the extreme “My reasons for being here are shady at best, don’t make eye contact with me” types (I hope you make your new wife very happy).

But I’m not complaining. I love this place, for all its madness and mad people. This city, and its genuinely wonderful mixture of folks, from all over the world–Cambodians most definitely included–is often a fascinating and thrilling place to be (and not just when riding a moto at night with a questionably sober driver). You get to meet people engaged in politics, human rights, journalism, a whole kaleidoscope of NGO professions, teaching, arts, music etc. etc. It’s often a much broader social selection than you would find in most international postings, because, well, there are just more of us here with the freedom to say and do as we like the majority of the time. We are a sociological experiment, a microcosm of the big wide world, lumped in together in one city. Then left to mate, befriend, defriend, and generally exist in the same world. And had I known any of this beforehand, I certainly would have relaxed and enjoyed the ride more, tread on eggshells less, and let myself get washed along on the sea of insanity, safe in the knowledge that the only things I do which genuinely matter are conducted between 9am and 5pm. “The rest will come out in the wash”, as every one of my Irish aunties has always said.

And I have met some incredible people, formed bonds, whined about saying so many goodbyes, and bemoaned the transient nature of this city (though refused to refuse to make friends with short-term folk, they’re often the most fun). Ultimately, I wish I’d known what an impact this city would have on me. I doubt it would have made a huge difference to my packing skills – I have 12 pairs of shoes here, and only wear flip flops – but maybe I’d have forced myself to man up earlier, prepared myself emotionally. But let’s face it, life is all about surprises…and I’m probably not deep enough to do that anyway. My emotional level is on a par with Spongebob Squarepants. I do wish I’d known how many cupcakes I’d eat, but only so I bought gym membership sooner. But anyway, where’s the fun in that?”

Snaps: Lunch on the open water

Posted on March 14, 2013 by Lina Goldberg

Angkor beer and fresh-caught seafood at a seaside lunch shack

Lunch on the water near Koh ta Kiev

I had only meant to stay on Koh ta Kiev for a night, but ended up staying for four. When I finally managed to wrestled myself off the island, we ended up stopping on the way back to shore at a little building planted in the middle of the water. It was a restaurant, and all of the military guys that run the island were there for lunch.

We went in, the only foreigners and the only people not in military uniform, and we were promptly fed and challenged to drinking games. The military guys seemed particularly delighted to challenge me, a woman, to see who could drink a full glass of beer first. Needless to say, I won every time.

The lunch was fantastic — all types of fresh seafood kept appearing as local fisherman brought their catch to the restaurant. Crabs, scallops, langoustines and a number of types of shellfish I’d never seen before. The only problem was that there was too much beer, and by 12:30 all of the military men were exceedingly drunk. When the highest ranking man there asked me to dance with him to traditional Khmer music, I didn’t dare say no.

Expat Q&A: I wish I had known that I would stay

Posted on March 11, 2013 by Lina Goldberg

In this series we talk to Cambodia expats about what they wish they had known when they first moved to Cambodia that they know now.

This week we talk to Juliette Rousselot, who moved to Cambodia in 2012 and is working as a consultant for a local human rights NGO. Originally from France, Juliette lived in the US for 15 years, most recently in Washington, DC, where she was doing advocacy work related to Africa and international justice mechanisms for a human rights organization.

Juliette exploring Cambodia’s archaeological past.

MTC: Juliette, what do you know now that you wish you had known when you first moved to Cambodia?

JR: “I wish I had known that I would end up staying here indefinitely – maybe I would have packed a few more clothes. I came here to volunteer for three months, with plans to leave after that (albeit slightly iffy plans that included unemployment and my parents’ couch). That clearly didn’t happen, as I’ll be celebrating my one year Cambodia-versary at the end of the month.

This is a fairly common thing here – people show up, not meaning to stay very long, and next thing you know, it’s been a year, you’ve settled into a great apartment, you have your habits and your routines, your close friends and you’re on a first name basis with the delivery guy from your favorite Indian restaurant.

I wasn’t so sure about Phnom Penh when I first got here. After having spent close to a month on Koh Tao, the bustle of Phnom Penh, the dirty streets, the incessant “tuk tuk lady!” being shouted at you, it was all a bit too much. But it eventually drew me in, as it does with most people. For some, it takes a few weeks or even months; for others, it’s just a matter of days.”

At the end of the day, expat life in Phnom Penh is just that: life. You have an apartment (no mud huts here). You get up every morning to go to work. You go to the gym (if that’s your thing). You cook dinner (or order from Door 2 Door). You fall in love. You get dumped. You meet up with friends for a drink (or 20). You go grocery shopping and run errands. It’s life.

But there’s something about seeing motos piled up with bags of vegetables and balancing in a way you would have never imagined possible, or – my favorite – with a big gigantic pig strapped to the back, on a daily basis. There’s something about riding your bicycle home and finding yourself in the middle of a sea of motos blocking an intersection and actually managing to make your way through, 20 minutes later. There’s something about looking out from your balcony and seeing a couple taking wedding photos on a regular street corner like it’s the most romantic place on earth.

Most days, you go about your day just like you would anywhere else in the world. But sometimes your attention is caught by something – something you wouldn’t see back home – and you remember why you’re here and why Phnom Penh drew you in the first place and why you decided to stay, so many many months ago.

What’s the big deal with orphanages in Cambodia?

Posted on March 8, 2013 by Lina Goldberg

Every year thousands of well-intentioned foreigners come to Cambodia with the goal of helping poor Cambodian children. The majority of them end up visiting or volunteering in Cambodian orphanages. Over the last year, orphanage tourism (as it is disparagingly called) has been getting a lot of negative publicity from child protection organizations. If you’ve wanted to come work with Cambodian children, you might have wondered what the big deal is–you’re just trying to help, right?

Family-based care is crucial for Cambodian children. Photo by Robert Buchan.

Move to Cambodia caught up with Luke Gracie, Alternative Care Manager at Move to Cambodia, in his piece, Luke has taken the time to explain once and for all what the fuss is about visiting orphanages in Cambodia and why you shouldn’t do it.

What’s the big deal with orphanages in Cambodia?

LG: “There are a lot of orphanages across Cambodia. There are also quite a lot of people and organisations, like the one I work for, that suggest people think twice about visiting, supporting or working in orphanages and to consider the harm they can cause. Amongst all this noise of ‘anti-orphanage’ posters and flyers and ‘pro-orphanage’ advertisements for orphanage tourism and people with Facebook profile shots of themselves hugging Cambodian youngsters, it’s very fair to ask, “what’s the big deal with orphanages in Cambodia?”

Well, to put it bluntly, the big deal is:

When they can live somewhere else, children do not belong in orphanages, they are highly damaging and dangerous institutions. Children belong with their family, or another family-like situation if they can’t stay with their direct family.

Certainly, there was a need for orphanages after the horrors of the Khmer Rouge. But a child born in 1979 is now 34 years old. A child born in 1989 is now 24 years old. So this justification for orphanages is growing a little, well, old. Since 2005 when the Cambodian economy boomed and the country experienced its most stable period in 40 years, the number of “orphanages” has increased by 75%.

Something doesn’t add up.”

What’s so bad about orphanages?

LG: “Approximately 75% of children in Cambodian orphanages are indeed not orphans; they have at least one living parent.

Actually calling these centres ‘orphanages’ is incorrect as it implies the children have a need to be there. There are numerous other options for marginalized children such as living with extended family members, people in the community or foster care options. The act of removing a child from his or her family is extreme; it is at the absolute pointy-end of child protection services; the drastic last resort when everything else has failed. It’s certainly nothing to be taken lightly.

The mind boggles when you think of what reasons are given to justify removing children from their families and communities:

“The children’s parents are really poor.”
“Well at least they get three meals a day and go to school.”
“But look at the smiles on the children’s faces.”

Rubbish.

Are these the two options we have for supporting vulnerable and marginalized kids; life in a dysfunctional family or life in a dysfunctional orphanage environment? How about income generation support for the family? How about counseling to help the father get over his drinking problem? How about the child living with their grandparents for six months while the parents sort their issues? How about treating Cambodian children and their families with the dignity and respect you would expect and receive in your home country?

In the west, children living in long term residential care (an orphanage) is seen as a Dickensian-era failure of the system, it is the absolute last resort where all other options and safety nets have broken down. It is unclear to me why an outdated model of care, rejected in the West, can be justified as an acceptable and appropriate form of early-intervention care for Cambodian children. A cynic could presume that elements of ethnocentrism play a role in this form of selective interpretation of the Child Rights Convention.

Certainly some orphanages are worse than others. There are centres where children are beaten, sexually abused, neglected, exploited for child labour, or trained to be just the right balance of pathetic and cute to attract tourist dollars (which the children see none of). These are abhorrent and disgusting centres that should be shut down, with centre managers and perpetrators charged with the crimes they have committed. The children should be removed and placed in safe locations, supported to overcome the impacts of living in such a terrible situation, and eventually return to family-based care. This is happening now, and the Royal Government of Cambodia is making strong strides in enforcing child protection laws.

But, this focus on the truly terrible centres can ignore the forest of wider harmful issues, for the trees of criminality. Even if children are fed three meals per day and play with toys and attend the odd group trip to a fun park, they are still living in a damaging and potentially harmful environment. Children need care, they need love. Studies overwhelmingly show that children in family based care, be it direct family, extended family or foster care, have better developmental, cognitive and emotional outcomes. Simply being in a residential facility, irrespective of whether they have English classes and PlayStations, is harmful and reduces the chances of kids becoming functional, productive adults.

Children living in long-term residential facilities are also drastically at a higher risk of experiencing abuse. This can take the form of abuse from staff, from outsiders (whether foreign visitors or people in the community), child-on-child abuse, or self-inflicted harm. Being outside a family-like unit increases all these risk factors. The vast majority of orphanages in Cambodia don’t even come close to having the adequate staffing and internal procedures, policies and checks to protect children from these kinds of risks.

Simply put: When they can live somewhere else, children do not belong in orphanages, they are highly damaging and dangerous institutions. Children belong with their family, or another family-like situation if they can’t stay with their direct family.”

If you’d like to learn more, please visit Friends International and take some time to read their very informative Children Are Not Tourist Attractions campaign.

Snaps: Koh Totang

Posted on March 7, 2013 by Lina Goldberg

Koh Totang, Cambodia

Last year, after meeting someone on Koh Rong who assured me that there was a more beautiful island in Cambodia, I dragged some visiting friends and family to Koh Totang.

I wasn’t disappointed. While there, my friend Frances sighed, “I want to move to Cambodia.”

The idea for the Move to Cambodia site was born, and we spent hours on the beach hashing out the details. There couldn’t have been a more beautiful place to come up with a business plan.

Just before we hopped on the boat to head back to our real lives, I stopped on the pier and took this photograph–one last memory of a perfect island holiday.

Frances has written about our trip and included a dozen lovely photographs of Koh Totang here.

Khmer noodles: The story of num banh chok

Posted on March 5, 2013 by Lina Goldberg

A definitive Cambodian breakfast or afternoon snack, num banh chok is so ubiquitous and well-loved that it’s often known simply as “Khmer noodles.” If you ask an average Cambodian about the dish, after telling you how delicious it is he’ll patiently explain to you that actually, China didn’t invent noodles, they got the idea from num banh chok.

Khmer noodles, or num banh chok

Num banh chok is the name of the noodles that are laboriously made by hand in heavy stone mills from fermented rice, but it’s also what the dishes made with these appetizing noodles are called. In its simplest form, num banh chok, sometimes called num banh chok samlar Khmer, is the perfect dish to eat in warm weather: rice noodles topped with a cool fish gravy and crisp raw vegetables including cucumbers, banana blossom, and water lily stems and fresh herbs, such as basil and mint.

Before the war, Phnom Penh’s most famous num banh chok came from a small town 15 kilometers outside of the city. In her book Cooking the Cambodian Way, Narin Jameson writes, “The dish was made from the very tasty fish in the Kampong Kantuot River, which runs through the town…the sellers made their own rice noodles and used vegetables from their own gardens. The only cost for this business was transportation from Kampong Kantuot to Phnom Penh, which was very little in the 1950s.”

Of course there are also many regional variations to the standard num banh chok. There’s Kampot-style num banh chok, which relies on locally-produced sweet dried shrimp, coconut cream, fish sauce and peanuts. Siem Reap has its own version, which has more garlic and coconut milk than the original, and is served with a sweet sauce called tik pha em. Sometimes, num banh chok is served with a curry chicken sauce made with shrimp paste and yams. Another version, num banh chok nam ya, features a red fish curry, and is a delicacy often served at ceremonial occasions such as engagement or wedding ceremonies (if weddings aren’t your thing, you can also find it at the Russian Market).

Even the royals have their own version, num banh chok samlar makod, or rice noodles with crown sauce. The version cited in the most definitive English-language Khmer cookbook, The Cuisine of Cambodia by Nusara Thaitawat, comes from the first Cambodian cookbook, Princess Rasmi Sobhana’s opus, The Cambodian Cookbook, released by the American Women’s Club of Cambodia in 1965. The royal version reflects the international taste of the royal household at the time and is made with chicken livers, Cognac and green peas.

But num banh chok‘s history is far older and more storied that just one Cambodian princess. A popular Khmer folk legend about Thun Chey — a celebrated revolutionary and scholar — features the dish. In the legend, Thun Chey was effectively exiled from the Khmer Empire to China by the Khmer king who was scared of his power and popularity. In China, he was forced to resort to making a living selling num banh chok. Of course such a delicious dish quickly gained popularity with the Chinese, until even the emperor of China had heard about it. The emperor requested that Thun Chey bring the noodles to the palace, and while the emperor was tasting them, Thun Chey sneaks a look at the emperor’s face, an act that is strictly forbidden.

Predictably xenophobic, Thun Chey declares that the emperor of China looks like a dog as opposed to the Khmer king, who looks like the moon, and is promptly thrown in jail, only to cunningly manage to be released and sent back to the Khmer empire soon after. Most Cambodians are familiar with the story of Thun Chey, and many will say that this is where China got the idea for noodles and the undeserved glory resulting from their invention.

If you want to try what may be the world’s first noodle yourself, you can find women walking around Phnom Penh in the mornings and early afternoon selling bowls of num banh chok out of baskets hanging off poles balanced on their shoulders, as well as at local markets including Psar Kandal and Psar Thmei.

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