I Thought It Was a Car Crash, Turns Out It Was the Queen Mother's Birthday

Little did I know, when I rolled into Phnom Penh, that I'd landed right on the Queen Mother's birthday. I had no idea. I was sitting in my hotel room, feet up, scrolling through Google Maps trying to figure out where I'd wander to next, when a big explosion went off outside.

My first thought wasn't fireworks. It was a car accident. Something loud and close, the kind of bang that makes you sit up. So I got off the bed, stepped out onto the balcony to see what the damage was, and instead of a wreck I caught the tail end of a firework fading over the river. Then another went up. Then another.

Turns out the whole city was celebrating, and I'd accidentally booked myself a balcony seat for it.

The fireworks kept coming, big bursts blooming out over the water with the skyline lit up behind them. One went up bright pink and just hung there, filling half the sky, smoke drifting across the river underneath it. I wasn't expecting any of it, which somehow made it better. The best surprises are the ones you didn't plan and didn't pay for.

After watching for a while from the balcony, I figured I'd get a little closer to the action. Threw on a shirt, grabbed my phone, and headed for the elevator to go take a walk along the river. Naturally I snapped a quick selfie on the way down. Standard mirror-in-the-elevator shot, me looking a little worse for wear after a long travel day. Questionable is the word I'd use. But that's the honest face of someone who's been on a bus for six hours and is running on curiosity and not much else.

Down at street level, the thing that really got me was how this city lights up its buildings at night. Back in Siem Reap things glow, sure, but the capital takes it to another level. I came up on one of the big buildings near the river — a temple or a royal pavilion, I think, all gold and tiered roofs — and the entire thing was outlined in lights. Every edge, every ridge of the roof, every column traced out so the whole structure looked like it was wired to the sun.

A crowd had gathered out front on the grass, families sitting on little stools, vendors with their carts, everybody just hanging out enjoying the evening. I stood there a while and took it in. You don't have to know a single thing about the occasion to feel why a place like this pulls people in. It's the kind of sight that makes you understand how buildings end up at the center of a country's faith and pride.

Then I spotted the detail that tied the whole night together: a large portrait of the Queen Mother mounted right in the center of the building, lit up along with everything else. Her face, front and center, on her special day. That's when the explosion-that-wasn't-a-car-crash finally made sense.

Not a bad way to spend a first night in a new city. No plan, no ticket, just the right balcony at the right time.

More photos coming a little later on. This trip keeps handing me surprises.