Phnom Penh
Phnom Penh sits where four arms of water meet — the Khmer call it Chaktomuk, the four faces: the Mekong coming down from the north, the Tonlé Sap coming in from the great lake, and the two of them leaving south as the Mekong and the Bassac; and once a year, when the monsoon swells the Mekong, the Tonlé Sap turns around and flows backwards to fill the lake, and the city holds a festival of boat races to say thank you. On the west bank, the Royal Palace keeps a pagoda floored with five thousand tiles of silver; a hill with a temple on it gave the city its name; a yellow art-deco market from 1937 sells everything; and a school in the south, turned into a prison in 1975, keeps the memory of the years when the city was emptied and the country was made to forget itself. Phnom Penh has not forgotten, and does not need reminding.
The traveller walks Sisowath Quay early, when the monks and the joggers have the river; sees the palace and the Silver Pagoda before the heat; climbs Wat Phnom for the story and the shade; buys nothing and everything at the Central Market; goes to Tuol Sleng, and then to Choeung Ek, in that order, quietly, with a guide who lived it or whose parents did, and lets the afternoon be what it is; and, at dusk, takes a boat out to where the four arms meet, with the palace lit behind and the water going every way at once. The evening belongs to Bassac Lane's small bars, or a plate of fish amok on the quay.
The Guide's honesty: Phnom Penh is a city that has learned to live with its history and asks visitors to do the same — dress and speak at Tuol Sleng and Choeung Ek as you would at any grave; the palace closes at lunch and asks for covered knees; the tuk-tuks are the way to move and the apps have made them honest; the quay is safe and lively and the back streets at night are for those who know them; the river festival in November is glorious and the city is full; and the country's hard years are thirty years old and everywhere — the young Khmer who will drive you have their own view of them, which is worth more than any book. Sail gently, and eat well: the food is a reason on its own.