We’re still struggling to find hotels and have taken the recommendation of the concierge at the afore-mentioned Independence Hotel who has kindly called in a favour and found us a room at his old work-place, the Goldiana. It was a nice thought, and it at least got us a room for the night, but just walking into the lobby made me claustrophobic; low ceiling, painted dark green, swags and tails on the curtains, pleated net curtains, wood panelling, swirling patterns on the carpet…it looked as though it had been interior designed by Liberace on acid. Let’s not even talk about the view. Actually, let’s talk about it. One room had the beautiful view of….not sure what as the windows were so dirty we couldn’t see out of them and the other room was built literally 3 inches away from the brick wall of another building giving a view of….brick. I spend a frantic hour on the phone trying to find somewhere else to stay and manage to find a room for one night at the Juliana, which I’m hoping is no relation of the Goldiana.
A morning taxi over to the much nicer Juliana to discover that, no, they don’t have a room for us. There’s no record of our booking and they have only one room left in the whole hotel, available for just one night. It has one double bed and they want $40 to put 2 extra beds in the room. Up ‘til now, we’ve almost always paid nothing for extra beds and, even on the rare occasions that we have paid, it’s been a nominal charge. Will refuses to pay on principal and the manager refuses to budge, so coming back from dinner, we sneak a couple of the sun lounger cushions from the swimming pool and, with a couple of extra blankets, make the kids perfectly cosy beds on the floor for the night. Ruby tries to strike a deal where she and Harley get half of the money we’ve saved by making her sleep on the floor, and Will almost goes for it just for her audacity.
We would still have been homeless the next day had the manager of the Juliana not taken pity on us and phoned around to find us somewhere to stay (I think we can safely assume he didn’t notice that a) we used his pool cushions as beds, and b) that Will snuck them into the wardrobe of our neighbours’ bedroom as we left in the morning, rather than be rumbled by the cleaners). He secures us a room at the Holiday Villas with ample beds, but I send Will on over for a look at the place before trusting a second hotel employees’ opinion on what makes a good hotel. We’re more successful this time and manage to book in for the next 4 nights without any further ado, without having to steal any bedding for the kids and without having to pay extra for their beds. I finally feel like we can get to grips with this place rather than wasting time each day looking for hotels, packing up bags and moving again.
Gabby has recommended that we visit the Green Vespa cafe, a favourite of Ella and Florence’s when they were here, mostly for the Heinz baked beans. They may not feature very high on the top of your list of great things to eat, but after you’ve been in South East Asia for nearly 3 months, let me tell you they taste damn good, especially to a 7-year old who hates anything with even a sniff of spice. They’re also doing a Monday night wine and cheese special where you can buy a bottle of red wine plus a plate of various cheeses for less than the price of the wine on it’s own. And if that wasn’t enough, they have a healthy looking dog who’s just given birth to a pile of puppies, all lying huddled together in a box, just outside the door. Having been forbidden to touch dogs throughout our trip, the kids are dying to stroke her. I check with the owner that she’s okay and he assures me that she’s friendly. Ruby bends down and gives her a stroke then Harley wanders over to do the same. He bends down and GRRRRR!, she bites him right in the cheek. Poor little thing was so scared he didn’t know what to do with himself. And neither did the owner who was mortally embarrassed and couldn’t look us in the eye even when bringing ice. He later assured us that the dog only ever growled at beggars and the butcher, so either Harley looked a right scruffy little urchin or he smelt like a pork chop. Neither is good.
We’ve heard about this weird Korean restaurant called Pyong Yang where the waitresses are identically dressed, from their hairstyles, their jewellery and even their make-up, who get up and perform on stage. It all starts off very reasonably. Ok, they’re all dressed in an outfit that looks like they were modelled on Ronald McDonald, all red and yellow stripes, and we haven’t a clue what we’re ordering to eat, but then it all gets a bit surreal. One waitress takes to the keyboard and another sings On Top of The World by Karen Carpenter in a speeded-up opera version, replete with heavy Korean accent. Next up, a dancing, high-leg kicking, quartet accompanied by a crazed violinist doing Frank Sinatra. Then a bit of electro-pop accompanied by some ballroom dancing. All performed by 7 identikit women who, between skits have to rush back to take an order. Ruby’s transfixed, Harley’s fallen asleep and Will and I are wondering what they put in the food.
After a day visiting the Royal Palace, we find the Foreign and Colonial Club, a high-ceilinged, open-aired bar facing the river. That’s lovely enough before we discover we’re here in time for happy hour and they make a rather fine cosmopolitan – two for £2.25. I think I like it here!
Phnom Pehn lies at the confluence of three rivers; the Mighty Mekong, the Tonlé Sap and the Bassac. We’ve fortuitously arrived here in time to see the Water Festival, a 3-day annual event involving hundreds of long-boats and tens of hundreds of men to row them, upstream, in kilometre long races along the Tonlé Sap to its meeting with the Mekong. It’s packed with locals and most of the ex-pats seem to have fled town which makes for great empty bars and restaurants along the route, two of which have fantastic first floor views. The owner of the Green Vespa had warned us to stay clear because of the huge crowd, but I guess he’s never been to the Notting Hill Carnival. Granted, there were a lot of people here, but there certainly wasn’t any of that shuffling-forward-one-inch walk that you have to employ as a mode of transport on the bank holiday Monday in August.
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