Category: Phnom Penh

Via DAS. Market vendors at the Russian Market (Psar Toul Tom Poung) have just received the eviction call. Diana from Cambodian recycled bag vendor, Bloom writes:

I got a call from the Bloom manager in Phnom Penh this morning. Vendors at the Russian Market, where we have a stall, were told the government was going to shut down the market.

We have heard similar rumours for the last year or more, that the market would be closed for either (a) renovations or (b) relocation. In fact, the landlady at our former shop sold the shop, which was on the outside of the market, because she was told only shops inside the market would qualify for compensation. Shops on the outside are not considered part of the market, it seems.

There was a sign up at the Russian Market a few years ago with an image of a market eviscerated of any local character, suggesting that the wave of gentrification was about to swamp the market, but at that point in time it looked as likely as motodops being replaced by flying cars.

Ever wanted to know where to find the stall in Cambodia that specialises in just pig’s ear, snout and throat?

Like every other question that involves where to buy something in Cambodia, this porcine otolaryngologist can be found at Psar Orussei, not to be confused with Russian Market (Psar Tuol Tom Poung). Apart from that sort of meat horror (which oddly, I also stumbled upon at Orussei Market last time that I wrote about it), Orussei is the catch-all market for Phnom Penh.

Everything you need to live a comfortable Cambodian lifestyle exists amongst its uncomfortably dark and crowded stalls. Prahok, karaoke machines, orange beer coolers and Honda Chaly parts can all be found within. Your local Phnom Penh corner store that stocks 400 different but equally useless objects have all been bought at Psar Orussei

My ostensible purpose for being there was to buy a Western-style grill for a friend; a grill far superior to the pot barbecue that I previously invested in before I discovered the breadth of items available at this market. For your reference, the grills are on the southeastern outer corner of Orussei on the St. 111 side.

Even the more palatable cuts of pig can be found barbecuing in the centre of the market, amongst a heavy concentration of food vendors which takes me about five passes to find. It’s not the best bai sach chrouk (pork and rice) in town but the complimentary bowl of watery chicken soup came with a slice of carrot and a hefty chunk of congealed blood tofu, which is an individual touch.

For a market that is relatively “modern” in Cambodia, it is suffocating and dingy.

Orussei Market is the worst place to find anything in particular. Even after years of tactical excursions into the heart of this labyrinthine bazaar, I could not describe to you where that pig’s ear vendor was but I can guarantee that you’ll still be able to find a meat vendor whom is equally unappealing. Most of my excursions to Orussei end with me unable to find three of the five items I needed. Only ears or throat when I needed snout.

Slightly more attractive is the outer rim of the market and surrounding streets. Whenever a journalist passing through town asked me where to shoot photos of real Cambodian markets, this is where I’d hit. Street 166 to the north of the market is packed with local vegetable vendors, suckling pig stalls and small fishmongers. It is brighter and less oppressive than hunting down food within the market and easier to make a quick getaway.

Small, semi-dried catfish at Psar Toul Tom Poung (Russian Market), Phnom Penh.

One of the more minor changes that I’ve noticed in Phnom Penh is that the markets are starting to seem even more local. The focus seems to be less on servicing foreigners with “Danger – Mines” t-shirts and more on placating the growing Khmer middle class with grey market Abercrombie and Fitch. The new Night Market on the riverfront, while a poor substitute for wandering along the currently billboarded-in riverfront, is mostly about keeping locals happy; oblivious to tourism.

Watching the fish circus at Chbbar Ampouv

Unless you happen to work at Cambodia’s Ministry of Fish, it’s unlikely that you’ll ever hear about Chbar Ampouv. If you eat fish in Phnom Penh, you will have certainly eaten something that has changed hands there, most likely, trei ros.

The ubiquitous snakehead fish arrives at the Chbbar Ampouv landing point packed live in thin metal boxes, baskets, and tarpaulin-lined Toyota Camrys literally filled to the roof with flapping farmed fish. The modified Camrys drive straight into the unloading point; open the doors and a wave of fish slops out onto the concrete to be sorted into boxes of living and dead by the waiting attendants. A tango of weighing, tallying, repacking and on-selling ensues. The thousands of tons of snakehead that change hands at Chbbar Ampouv dock every year are redistributed by truck and motorcycle to Phnom Penh’s more consumer-oriented markets and a few cases make it across the street to the neighbouring bulk market.

Snakeheads are the perfect fish for Cambodia. They eat anything, grow quickly and can survive out of water for hours thus guaranteeing freshness in even the worst Cambodian transport and market conditions (Coincidentally, these are the same qualities that make them the scourge of fisheries elsewhere in the world). For eating, they’re a firm-fleshed fish. In Cambodian food, they tend to turn up in soups; fried whole with a sauce; or as dried fillets, both sweet and salty.

Location: The Chbbar Ampouv landing point is just south of the Monivong bridge in Phnom Penh, starts at dawn, and apart from the boxes of fish there is not much else to see. The opposite market (Psar Chbbar Ampouv) is one of Phnom Penh’s larger wet markets.