Eleven hours behind, thirteen hours ahead… good nite is good morning, good morning comes at night. Even now, the whole conversion still throws me off. I
I am early. It looks like rain, spitting a little already – a near nightly event for Phnom Penh. The park is empty still, the
A reminder today that this is a country in transition politically – not a smooth or comfortable thing – though I suppose it rarely is.
The terrace is all grey and stone and hammered steel, local wood and rough textured brick that I long to reach out and touch. An
Its 6:45 am and I am counting water bottles, something I do every morning, estimating what I’ll need to get through today, tonight and into
My first few weeks have sometimes felt like an episode of a TV reality show. One where you are given a mission and some training