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The most quintessential Cambodian souvenir must be the checked cotton krama that you will see around the necks, heads or waists of every Cambodian you meet. Cambodians like to boast that the krama has a dozen different uses -- some clever, some cute, some cringe-worthy. The most popular way to wear the krama is as a handsome scarf and a symbol of national and cultural pride, hung loosely around the neck over a pressed dress shirt. However, head out to the villages and you’ll see local farmers wearing them wrapped around their forehead to soak up the sweat, while village women will wear them as a head-dress. I’ve used mine as a belt. They’re handy for wiping the perspiration from your brow while scrambling temples in the sticky humidity. You’ll see kramas sold everywhere and in the Old Market they start from as little as US$1, however, these are generally made from a polyester-cotton mix and don’t do the trick. I love the authentic, quality cotton kramas sold at boutiques like Wa Gallery, which is where the ones above are from.

Dutchman Dirk de Graaff left a demanding consulting position in Hong Kong to become a hotelier in Siem Reap, falling for Cambodia’s natural beauty, smiling residents, and laid-back way of life. He ran the first gay-friendly guesthouse in town before opening two hotels, a boutique hotel and the more upscale Rambutan Resort, a 16-room property, where he’s successfully re-created the traits that led him to the country in the first place. The simple but stylish rooms employ local, natural materials, with custom-made, chocolate-brown and white-flecked sugar-palm beds (of eco-friendly wood), brightly hued silk lamps, and private outdoor terrazzo soaking tubs. Modern Asian art—including comical pieces by Chinese artist Yue Minjun—adorns the walls. A lovely slate-and-stone tiled, tree-shaded pool anchors the property, its cascading water feature lending a meditative quality.

And though Rambutan’s flair is more than enough reason to stay, it’s the exceedingly personable staff that makes it a true standout. Guests are welcomed like old friends (many are on return visits); the affable check-in crew and servers artfully walk the line between doing their jobs and making time for a chat. De Graaff invests in his team—providing scholarships to further their careers in hospitality, for instance—and their mutual affection for the place shows.

The racks at Jasmine Boutique hang with gorgeous handwoven Cambodian silk garments, including exquisitely tailored blouses and trousers, elegant cocktail dresses and gowns, and classic shirts and skirts that can be teamed with anything from crisp cottons for a smart-casual look to sequined tops for a glam night out. The boutique was started in 2001 by Australian Cassandra McMillan and New Zealander Kellianne Karatau, who are passionate about handwoven Cambodian silk, evident in the quality of the beautiful clothes and accessories, such as silk scarves and clutch-purses. They also support other local designers and you’ll find pretty handmade jewelry like the pieces above to team with their clothes. They also have boutiques in Phnom Penh. Jasmine is located in the stylish shopping arcade at the riverside Foreign Correspondents Club or FCC Angkor. Home to Wa Gallery, a branch of Eric Raisina, and the John McDermott photography gallery, it’s easy to spend a couple of hours here browsing these chic boutiques in between drinks and dinner.

Better known as the Tomb Raider Temple since its starring role in the Hollywood movie of the same name, Ta Prohm has at least as much star quality as Angelina Jolie. Cloaked in dappled shadow and locked in the embrace of the vast root systems that are still reclaiming it for the jungle, the temple is arguably the most atmospheric ruin at Angkor Archaeological Park. Construction on Ta Prohm began in 1186 C.E.; it was built in honor of the mother of King Jayavarman VII. Modern-day visitors are not permitted to climb onto the crumbling galleries of its 39 towers due to safety concerns. Nevertheless, picking a route around the various structures, close courtyards, and narrow corridors sprouting with lichen, moss, and creeping plants is one of the most enthralling experiences at Angkor.

Louise Loubatieres’ gorgeous light-filled little concept store on increasingly hip Hap Guan Street is one of those stores you can easily lose hours in. The fascinating shop is located in self-styled Kandal Village, a compact neighborhood of three parallel streets wedged between the French Quarter and Old Market area that has become an emerging shopping, eating and drinking district. The lovely Louise, who can often be found out the back of the shop baking or making a pot of tea, is of Cambodian, French, British, and Vietnamese heritage, and her ancestry is reflected in her impeccable taste and passion for arts, crafts, textiles and design objects from Southeast Asia, and her carefully curated selection of beautiful things. Unlike some of my favorite shops, Louise doesn’t limit herself to ‘made in Cambodia’ products, and won’t hesitate to source pretty things from places like Chiang Mai or the Mekong Delta if she discovers something special. Louise largely stocks homewares, from colorful lacquer bowls to textiles that can serve as table runners.

Travelers incorrectly believe that the street food sold at stalls around Pub Street in the Old Market quarter is authentic. It’s not—not the fruit shake sellers, nor the Nutella pancakes. There is one exception and that’s the ubiquitous sugar cane juice sellers that you see here as well as at local markets, backstreets, and the riverside every afternoon and evening. Follow your ears. Expect to hear the sound of the long pieces of cane being crunched through the crusher or the sounds of swarms of bees buzzing around. The juice will be served in a plastic cup or plastic bag with a straw. If you struggle with the drink in a plastic bag idea, as many foreigners do, then point to a cup. It’s nearly always served over ice and the ice is nearly always safe, thanks to the French who established ice factories across the country during French colonial rule. However, if you’ve not been in the country long or have a weak stomach, skip the ice, just in case. Sometimes Cambodians will add extra sugar to their drinks. Watch carefully and say no if you see the vendor reaching for some, as it’s sweet enough. It’s a terrific thirst-quencher if you’ve been out in the blazing sun all day – and a fantastic pick-me-up if you’re starting to feel that heat.

Launched in 1929 with a glamorous opening party attended by royalty, this grande dame has long been the most elegant hotel in the Cambodian capital, hosting everyone from Charlie Chaplin to foreign journalists covering the civil war. Part of the Raffles group since 1997, the meticulously restored building—a mix of Art Deco, French Colonial, and Khmer styles—is replete with artisan-crafted decorative touches. Outside, tropical gardens, courtyards, and striking sculptures surround two swimming pools. Hand-woven carpets, polished wood floors, claw-foot tubs, and silk accents—from the throws to the robes—set the scene in the 175 rooms, suites, and apartments.

Khmer culture comes alive at fine-dining restaurant Le Royal (serving Royal Khmer cuisine) and the Apsara dinner-dance show (offered weekly from November–March in the gardens), while international dishes are on the menu at the indoor-outdoor Café Monivong and poolside terrace. The retro-chic Elephant Bar—a city institution, like its counterpart at the Raffles in Siem Reap—is a favorite for afternoon tea and evening cocktails; don’t miss the “Femme Fatale,” created in honor of Jackie O’s visit in 1967. Signature massages using local herbs and traditional healing techniques can be enjoyed at the boutique spa.

Crowds may swarm upon it daily from sunrise onwards, but exposure hasn’t dulled the impact of the largest religious monument in the world. Commissioned by King Suryavarman II in the 12th century as the centerpiece of the mighty Khmer empire, the structure is inspired by Hindu sacred design and is estimated to have taken around 30 years to build. The biggest surprise upon visiting might be learning that the vast complex of spires, moats, frescoes, cloisters, and balustrades was constructed in such speedy fashion. You won’t be alone while witnessing it, but sunrise over the iconic temple remains one of the essential experiences in Southeast Asia. A return in the afternoon when the camera-toting hordes have dispersed is also advisable.

When I stepped into the grand lobby of Québec’s Le Château Montebello, I felt like I was entering Paul Bunyan’s living room. Giant timbers braced a three-story-high ceiling, and a massive fireplace in the center radiated warmth in all directions. After checking in, I joined the guests gathered around the six-sided hearth and sank into a leather club chair. I spent the rest of the day by the fire, sipping hot toddies and napping, as the comfort of the crackling flames sent me and the other fireside dozers snuggling deeper into our cushions. I had come to ski some of the 65,000 acres of wooded backcountry that neighbor the resort, but the château was so welcoming, I found it hard to leave.


Often described as the world’s largest log cabin, the lodge and two other main buildings were constructed in 1930 from 10,000 red cedar logs and 500,000 handmade wooden shingles. The houses and the vast surrounding forests were long owned by the politically prominent Papineau family, and until 1970, the estate remained a private nature retreat for Canada’s upper class. As I walked through the château’s halls, the intricately carved banisters and exposed beams reminded me of the great western lodges in the U.S. national parks—only without any grumpy tourists demanding to know where the animals are.

In the guest rooms, deluxe amenities such as flat-screen TVs and rain-dome showerheads upstaged anything found in Yellowstone or Yosemite. Despite the modern perks, rawhide lampshades and other rustic details helped my suite retain its frontier appeal. When I got up to pull the plaid drapes closed that night, I watched a horse-drawn sleigh pass by, glowing in the moonlight against the dark ribbon of the frozen Ottawa River.

Without fresh snow to ski the next morning, I was left to explore the lodge’s other activities. I opted out of getting scrubbed with maple sugar at the spa or unsuccessfully flirting with French-Canadian women by the fire, and instead devoted the day to learning the inscrutable rules of curling. The château has an indoor ice rink dedicated to the sport, a national favorite that’s best described as a combination of shuffleboard and falling down a lot. My instructor was Henri, a kindly sexagenarian who, like many in Québec’s western Outaouais region, seemed more comfortable speaking French than English. As it turns out, kindly reassurance sounds the same in either language. But as my backside repeatedly hit the ice, Henri’s patient polyglot insistence that I was doing “une belle job” grew progressively less convincing.

After my rough-and-tumble day, I dined in the white-tablecloth Aux Chantignoles restaurant. Québecois cuisine dominates the menu, and I followed a dinner of tender venison osso buco with a slice of Québec’s famously sweet and jiggly sugar pie—think pecan pie sans pecans. Snow fell just in time for me to ski through the nearby forest on my last day. I spent a long afternoon there, gliding among stands of birch, pine, and spruce in the rolling Laurentian Highlands. Now and again, I paused to admire one of the countless frozen lakes, their smooth surfaces dotted with tracks left by moose and white-tailed deer. I skied in the silent wilderness until just after sunset. As the scent of a wood fire began to tickle my nose, I grew eager to cozy up by the hearth again. I turned back toward the château’s stone chimney, its rising plume of smoke signaling for my return.
This appeared in the November/December 2010 issue.

Kompong Phluk is a floating village located in the middle of Cambodia‘s largest lake, Tonle Sap. The term “floating” is a bit misleading: the houses are actually built on very tall stilts around 8 meters high. During the rainy season, the lake rises and covers the stilts, giving the illusion that the homes are floating in the water. We learned that these types of villages are built in the middle of the lake to make it easier for fishermen and rice farmers to gather during harvest season.

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