You may think you know a thing or two about rivers, as I thought I did, but there is a river here in Cambodia that bucks the trends. It is unorthodox and proudly so. It marches to the beat of a different drummer, if you will. This river is the Tonle Sap and it flows into a lake of the same name from the Mekong River, and as the weeks and months mount, the lake swells to something like twice its normal size. Then about this time every year, it decides for no apparent reason, like a trendy teenager in touch with what is cool, that south is the new north, and it switches its direction on a whim.

What this means is that all the people in the rural provinces come flocking into Phnom Penh for three days of boat races, fireworks and concerts with laser light shows. Then of course everyone who lives in Phnom Penh comes out on the town presumably to clog up the streets and the riverfront area even more. Everyone, that is, except the foreigners. The foreigners flee like bombs are falling from the sky, and most of them, I have been told, head for the beach at Sihanoukville.

As it happens, we at World Relief have our annual leadership retreat during this same time, and coincidentally or not, we also choose to meet at the beach.

We came here yesterday, Sunday, which was the second day of the water festival, so I was still able to join Ming Visal and the kids Saturday evening for the festivities. We went across the river where we were actually able to get a good view of the long boats gliding past, filled with clone-like men simultaneously huffing, puffing, rowing and chanting, led by a whistle-happy captain at the helm.

Back on the city side of things, the streets near the riverfront are barricaded against all motor vehicles, and this is strictly enforced by police officers, who make absolutely zero exceptions, except for rich people in Land Cruisers and the occasional extra-persuasive moto driver. Walking these streets though, is unbelievable. It is really just a stampede in slow motion. You’re shoulder to shoulder with thousands of people on whichever particular street you happen to be on, and then you turn onto another street and the same is true there, and on the next and the next. Many a heel is stepped on and if not for the convenient fact that Asians lack the concept of personal space, tempers would run high.

It occurred to me that maybe places like New Delhi and Dhaka are always like this, and maybe if I was there in such crowds for long periods of time I would experience the culture shock that has yet to phase me thus far.

We walked pretty far out of the way to eat at Mando Burger, presumably because the place is thought so highly of. I ordered what appeared to be a cheese steak on the picture menu but turned out to be a rather disappointing hot dog. Afterwards we braved the crowds once more and, passing vendors selling soda, beer, fruit, anemic meatballs, and flashing neon toys, we made our way back home where I could retreat to my bedroom with all the personal space a guy could ask for.