During my first week in town, I witnessed a really brutal motorcycle-versus-truck accident on the road between Kampot and Kep.

NEWYORKER: Swimming

Her father kept smiling between bites while Veata talked, telling me how he had found his way south to Kampot in 1980, during the famine.

NEWYORKER: Swimming

None of the men smiled or really acknowledged me at all, though I vaguely recognized the one who was standing on top of the fish from the market in Kampot.

NEWYORKER: Swimming