Blood Flows on the Mean Streets of Phnom Penh

A couple of months ago I had had accident on my newly acquired motorbike. I bought an old Daelim, which is manufactured in Korea (by the way it runs, I think in North Korea). It is a clunky old thing that was owned by a local who used it as a part time taxi. Daelims are only used by taxi-drivers in Cambodia. To make the comparison back home, it would be like buying a Yellow Cab and continue to drive around with the yellow paint work and taxi signs. I get a lot of laughs from other moto-drivers who snicker at the sight of a white fella driving a Daelim. Students at my school think there is something wrong with me. But other taxi-drivers are always interested in how much I paid for it.


Example of a Daelim being used as a school bus.

I have never driven a motorbike before coming to Cambodia (and licensing doesn't exist in this country) so I learnt just by riding on the roads in congested Phnom Penh traffic. Despite a few months of experience I am still pretty crap at it. There is no clutch on these bikes, but you do have to change gears and I get confused between the gear and brake pedal.

One night I was driving home and was looking to turn left (Note: they drive on the right here, so another difficulty for me). There was on-coming traffic and in Phnom Penh you have to be pushy to get anyway as no one will stop to let you in. After a few frustrating moments I decided to go for it when it appeared that there was a break. I didn't judge very well a bike coming towards me that was going a lot faster then the others. I hesitated and before I knew it he had t-boned me in the side of the bike. If I had been a bit more affirmative I should have kept going and he would have missed me.

He didn't hit me with any great force and only succeeded in knocking the bike over, but it landed on my leg. Despite wearing jeans, the hot exhaust pipe on the bike managed to burn a rather large hole in my calf. My most pressing concern at the time though was the crowd of locals standing around my bike and the other taxi-driver. Regardless of whose fault it may have been, in an accident if you are white "you're not in the right" (anyway it was my fault).

The crowd was expecting me to pay the other driver compensation for damage to his bike and/or person. He didn't appear very hurt and his bike looked like it had been in a few accidents anyway. Acting quicker then I did on the bike, I pulled out $10US, forked it over to the other driver and took off. Given the other times I had been ripped off by local cops or market sellers, this was pretty cheap (and a better option to a mob beating).

Getting home, I discovered a 10cm by 3 cm part of my leg missing. The exhaust pipe virtually melted the flesh away, there was no skin hanging off. Went to the chemist who pronounced 'Not very good' and gave me some anti-septic and bandages. The wound took about 3 months before it stopped pussing up and finally scabbed over. The shot below is about 2 months over the accident.

There is still a pretty mean looking scar left that I doubt will ever go away (my Cambodian tattoo) and I've discovered that this injury is very common in Phnom Penh. Once the subject is brought my you often find a number of others showing the scar on their right calf from a hot exhaust pipe.

Cambodia is fun.