Local market is an experience in itself. I generally love markets for their bee hive buzz, crowds of people wondering around like ants and the amount of things teasing your eye from every corner. I’ve seen markets in Iraq, Mexico, Grand Bazaar in Istanbul but this one is different.
People live and work here. Fronts of the shopping stalls are fronts of small wooden ‘houses’ for the lack of a better term. Kids toys mix with skinned chickens, live or dried fish, strangely looking vegetables, made-in-china clothes and iPhonc’s. All this is bathing in stench of rotting cabbage and fish bowls, raw pieces of meet lying openly on wooden tables and sewage mud that covers the walking paths. One has to be careful if all you have is pair of sandals.
At the same time everyone is kind and friendly, kids say ‘hello’ and adults smile without that notorious invitation to buy anything so present in all Arabic markets. This is my second visit, the first time I was a bit uneasy and overwhelmed by the stench and careful with taking photos, this time I smile and try to interact before I point my camera. And that seems to be working although those photos will make its way here once I’m in Phnom Penh as I need better connection to handle large files from my Canon.