Making friends in Phnom Penh

Arriving in Cambodia from Vietnam it was clear that this was a nation still recovering from the trauma of its recent past. As we crossed over the Mekong River on a ferry our coach was surrounded by impoverished looking children dressed in rags, begging for food or money. It was something we had not seen at all in Vietnam and reminded us immediately of our travels through India. The coach moved onto the ferry, the ferry made its way steadily over the murky waters of river and looking back we could see the barefooted children disperse, waiting for the next group of westerners to arrive to this increasingly popular tourist destination.



At Tuol Sleng

Phnom Penh was rough and dirty in stark contrast to the relative order and industriousness of Vietnam.  Limbless beggars hobbled along the bustling Preah Sisowath road while gangs of small children hustled for handouts on the dusty streets in the shadow of the still sparkling silver pagoda. Everywhere there were reminders of the dreadful war that had ripped the country apart a mere 30 years before, perhaps the most chilling of which was the site of the Tuol Sleng Concentration Camp. Here in a converted school, 17,000 Cambodians were tortured to death by the Khmer Rouge regime in the late 1970’s.

The Friends restaurant.

Out of this darkness however, glimmers of light could be detected on the streets of the city. One of the most brilliant could be found on a chaotic street beside the National Museum – The Friends restaurant. We came here on a cloudless morning and were immediately struck by the cheery atmosphere of the place. Colourful walls adorned with bright paintings contrasted with the dirt and grime of the street outside. Smartly dressed waiters buzzed from table to table eager to please the mainly western clientele. The food was also impressive. A delicious fusion of western and oriental style dishes, all elegantly presented. Best of all was the dessert, surely the finest lemon meringue pie I have ever tasted!

              

Better still was the idea behind the restaurant. The waiting and kitchen staff were made up of young people from the streets of Phnom Penh. All had been fully trained up at the restaurant and had been given a chance to earn a steady income away from the dangers and temptations of Phnom Penh’s mean streets. By the standards of the food and the quality of the service it was clear that these street children wanted to seize the opportunity with both hands.

At the pizza-eating competition

More than just a restaurant, Friends also set up several social functions for the city’s youth. Out the back we walked in on a summer fete, complete with jugglers, clowns, and in an adjacent hall, a food-eating competition, where several local children chomped away at the pizzas, while hordes of screaming onlookers cheered them on. The atmosphere was joyous and festive, and, we hoped, gave us an insight to what the future of this unfortunate country would look like.