By Matthew Blackwell
Looking out across the yellow-washed angular buildings that clutter the inner city of Phnom Penh in 2016, hindsight fills me with anxiety. 359 more words
The monks glow like embers in the streets of Phnom Penh.
We ambled north along the Mekong as it rushed and eddied south, and saw the inevitable companion buildings to any port or harbour town, cafes, tourist dives, girly bars with names like “I get you and you get me”, (what it is, exactly, that they “get” and how they get it can only remain open to speculation). 332 more words