Steung Meanchey, Phnom Penh’s city dump, surely won’t top anyone’s list of must-see attractions in Cambodia. But with 4,000 people living there, I felt sure it would make for an interesting story. So I talked my reluctant, slightly alarmed
I had one day left in Cambodia before I flew on to Australia to try my hand at being an immigrant, and Stueng Meanchey was the last place on my list of places to visit. My motodup-driving friend Narun was confused and alarmed by this, because Stueng Meanchey
A lengthy journey by motorbike and make-shift ferry brought me to Mekong Island and the home of my Cambodian friend Narun – an orphaned Khmer Rouge survivor and former soldier turned motodup driver and family man. Most Cambodians survive on less than a
My Cambodian moto-dup driver made the mistake of casually inviting me to his rural home for a night or two, and I quickly grabbed the opportunity to see a part of the country not on the tourist trail with what I’m sure he perceived as disconcerting enthusiasm.
With the Songkran festival quickly fading to a blurry memory, I had two weeks to kill in southeast Asia before I was due to arrive in Australia as an immigrant. Naturally money was tight, which made my next destination – probably the only liveable country
So there we were – a rag-tag assortment of Carrys and other hangers-on, waiting around on a beach on the southern most tip of the Thai peninsula, close to the Malaysian border. We were gathered there ahead of the marriage of Irish girl Emma and Columbian
Two weeks before I was due to book my flights to Australia, I got a call from my globetrotting sister who’s currently residing in New Zealand. It was very good news: she was getting married to her beloved Colombian boyfriend – in my beloved Thailand.
So there I was – back in a grey, drizzle-splattered Dublin housing estate after eight months working for a magazine in bubbling, hectic Thailand. The months back home ticked by slowly, and my new environment began to feel like a sensory deprivation tank.
My homebound flight cut into Dublin at an angle which gave me a great view of the city below. It looked as grey, damp and low-key as ever, but I couldn’t help but get excited, so much so that when the plane rolled to a stop and the seatbelt signs pinged
My farewell to Thailand was somewhat rushed in that I arrived in Bangkok from Cambodia a day-and-a-half before I had to fly home. I was shattered from my trip and dry retching at the thought of the long haul ahead, but was easily talked into a farewell piss-up
Looking around at Bangkok in the days before I flew home, I was struck by how different it appeared in comparison to when I arrived for the first time. Living in the Land of Smiles for the best part of a year had made me see it in an entirely different light.
I arrived back in Thailand after my trip to Cambodia to find the country’s capital in turmoil. Before I left I had come across government buildings occupied by thousands of PAD (People’s Alliance for Democracy) protesters attempting to oust
I headed out of Phnom Penh towards Bangkok on a road backed up by a noisy convoy of cars, buses and flat-back trucks crammed with cheering, flag-waving Cambodians dressed in yellow. The country’s third ever democratic election was about to get underway.
I was busy sweating uncomfortably on a gritty beachside deckchair in 30-odd degree heat in the emerging Cambodian beachside resort of Sihanoukville, when all of a sudden an idea occurred to me.
After the trauma of researching my article on weapons proliferation in Cambodian society – which had itself come hot on the heels of a terrifying bout against a professional Muay Thai fighter in Bangkok, and a distressing trip to Burma that ended with