For the few

Preserved forever in a sombre black-and-white portrait, it is a face familiar to the front pages of many Cambodian newspapers. Chea Vichea, the young union leader gunned down in 2004 by what many suspect to be an agent of the government (a decade on, his killer remains at large), is unmistakable. In a nod to International Human Rights Day on December 10, Where Is My Justice? is a poignant photographic call for the government of Cambodia to put an end to impunity, a problem that has long plagued this country. This new photo exhibition, by the Cambodian Centre for Human Rights, charts the experiences of local victims of impunity, each denied justice for the crimes committed against them. Journalists, evictees, political protesters, unionists, and LGBT people: while their personal circumstances may vary, the threats to their rights to truth, justice and remedy are all too common. After the opening, at 8pm, a screening of Even A Bird Needs A Nest documents forced evictions in Cambodia. French co-directors Christine Chansou and Vincent Trintignant-Corneau, on hand at the screening to answer questions, recorded stunning testimonies everywhere from down in the mud to the uppermost echelons. They kept a close track on the Boeung Kak struggle, while also letting Hun Sen and the opposition have their say.

WHO: Cambodian Centre for Human Rights
WHAT: Where Is My Justice? exhibition opening & Even A Bird Needs A Nest documentary screening
WHERE: Meta House, #37 Sothearos Blvd.
WHEN: From 6pm December 9
WHY: Justice shouldn’t be for the few

Tevi Restaurant: Afternoon escape

Once an almost unknown residential hideaway, Street 9 has recently emerged as one of the city’s most secluded afternoon getaways. The newest member on the block is the Teav and Tevy, an upscale guesthouse-and-restaurant combination that epitomises the leafy gardens and tranquil lanes that define the neighbourhoods of Tonle Bassac. The Tevy serves an array of Asian dishes, the friend vegetarian spring rolls ($4) of note. The service is smart and friendly. Sounds from the spa permeate the gardens and the gentle trickle of water falling into the splash pool, complemented with a glass of Bordeaux, makes for the perfect evening comport. Tevi Restaurant, #30 Street 9.

Stabil Elite: Spawn of Kraftwerk

From Kraftwerk to Chicks on Speed, Digitalism to Booka Shade, Snap to Modeselektor, Sven Vaeth to Paul Van Dyk, Germany has been inspiring the international electronic music scene for half a century. This weekend, emerging indie krautrock trio Stabil Elite, dubbed ‘the grandchildren of Kraftwerk’, are abandoning their native Dusseldorf to make their first Cambodian appearance headlining at a new music festival, Made In Germany, by Meta House and the Goethe Institute. Their thing: ‘Playing guitar music that has transformed itself through electronic music and gone back to guitars; a new art aesthetic within rock culture,’ say the organisers.

Over then to Nico Mesterharm, the brains behind Meta House and himself a former lynchpin in Berlin’s underground music scene. “Julian Cope has championed it, new Nineties bands were ransacking it and the ageing German hippies that first created it are now packing in techno and indie converts. Word is out on krautrock, the Seventies trance underground that was the best kept secret in music history, up until recently. In the last few years, Lucas Croon, Nikolai Szymanski and Martin Sonnensberger have created a cosmos of driving bass lines, danceable rhythms, floating pads and shimmering electric guitars. Using repetitive lyrics with double meanings, analogue synths and icy cold clackering computers, Stabil Elite revive krautrock and the avant-garde moments of the German New Wave.

“As music critic Anika Hoge has noted, ‘They combine glamour and emotion and cosmic transcendence, which is well aware of its musical heritage yet doesn’t seem overly reflective for even a second.’ One can immediately hear where this stylish band comes from. Just think of that city on the Rhine, which has become a work of art in itself, and its electronic musical history, which has significantly influenced many styles, from hip hop to techno.”

Srabil Elite will be supported on the night by Phnom Penh-based Dub Addiction, featuring German sound wizard Professor Kinski (Jan Mueller), and the ambient trance outfit Electric Universe, featuring Cambodian drummers. There’s also a slew of guest DJs and musicians, including Cambodian singer/songwriter Jimmy Kiss, who will perform his hit single Baby, I’m Sorry.

WHO: Stabil Elite, Dub Addiction, Electric Universe, Jimmy Kiss
WHAT: Made In Germany music festival
WHERE: The Night Market, Street 108 & Sisowath Quay
WHEN: 5pm December 7
WHY: Behold, the spawn of krautrock!

Reading leaves

FRI 5 | Born in Vientiane, self-taught painter Teck Inthavong was forced to flee Laos during the revolution when he was just a child. For the following 43 years, the artist – who is still reluctant to describe himself as such – moved from France to the US and then onto China, and continues to this day to draw much of his inspiration from his travels. Now settled in Thailand, where he runs an art gallery with his wife, Teck seeks to promote a healthier world view of his native Southeast Asia, a region that for too long has been internationally equated with the horrors of the colonial era, sexual tourism and armed conflict. The Lotus Inspiration collection of 11 leaf paintings comes from his will to “get back to basics and take up again with nature”. Looking for local and natural raw materials, Teck plumped for lotus leaves, long associated with these parts.

WHO: Teck Inthavong
WHAT: Lotus Inspiration art exhibition opening
WHERE: Tea House, #32 Street 242
WHEN: From 6pm December 5 until January 4
WHY: “The lotus comes from the murkiest water but grows into the purest thing.” – Nita Ambani

Penhstock V: Peace & music

FRI 5-7 | Immortalised by Rolling Stone magazine as one of the 50 moments that forever changed the history of rock music, the Woodstock Festival of 1969 was about far more than just sex, drugs and rock ‘n’ roll. During ‘three days of peace and music’, 32 acts – including Jefferson Airplane, Jimi Hendrix, the Grateful Dead, and Janis Joplin – took the stage in one of the most pivotal moments in music history. This weekend, for the fifth annual Penhstock, almost as many bands (from Thailand, Vietnam and here) are assembling at Sharky’s in honour of Woodstock’s 45th anniversary. Brace for a barrage of classic, indie, alt, punk, acoustic, blues, Khmer rock ‘n’ roll, bluegrass, heavy metal and infused rock ‘n’ roll. Also brace for the Kingdom Brewery’s double-decker bus, the roof of which is doubling as an outdoor stage. Friday features Sharky Blitzkrieg Ramones, The Fumes, The Lazy Booze Drunks, Bob Passion & The Schkoots, Sexploited, Sonic Detergent, Sangvar Day, and Nightmare AD. Saturday is Dirty Jackz, Ricky Rotten & The Scumbags, Joe Wrigley & The Jumping Jacks, Electric Yard Dogs, Adobo Conspiracy, The Mekong Messengers, and Itchy Band. Sunday brings the 9999 Arts Group, The Ten Tips, Sinville Roadshow, RNA & friends, Bacano, Miss Sarawan, The Underdogs, and Brooklyn.

WHO: Up to 30 of the city’s best rock bands
WHAT: Penhstock V
WHERE: Sharky’s, #126 Street 130
WHEN: 8pm – midnight December 5, 6 & 7
WHY: Witness local rock music history in the making

Guilty Pleasures: Popstars

So Robbie Williams came into my office today. I’d just settled upstairs into my vast corner suite with a bubble tea and a bushel of deep-fried plantains, ready to write the bit in my million-selling erotic novel trilogy where Anya goes on a glamorous date with Crispian, who takes her to his penthouse apartment in his matte-black helicopter. As you do. My farmer sister, in CharmingVille on a three-dollar-mani-pedi bacchanal, having absconded the pastoral yoke and a harebrained project at her local daycare to turn the decrepit family RV into a rescue-chicken petting motel, was downstairs in reception practicing her fruit sculpture.

I heard the front door open, a man’s voice then a squeak of shock and indistinct babble, the latter both from my sis. ‘Zounds!’ I thought. She may be struggling with a) the local firemen demanding money to check our extinguisher for the third time this week, b) that touchy-feely fake Tibetan monk who seems to be everywhere lately luring her with some pretty convincing mala beads or c) a lost French person. Such are the pitfalls awaiting an innocent country girl just trying to make it in the big smoke. Though by now smeared in fragrant banana grease and batter-deep into a particularly lusty ‘ardent manhood’ trope, I thrust my sizzling bestseller aside to pop down and help my hillbilly sibling. As I was going down, she was coming up, almost exactly like a person windmilling away from a fatal wasp attack. “OMG,” she whisper shouted. “What shall we do? It’s Robbie Williams!!!”

Wowser! Robster. The Rob. Mr ‘Angels’ himself slouching cheekily in our very reception. No wonder sister was agog. She’s routinely starstricken at the faintest glimmer of famous person. Once she passed out in the dairy aisle at Big W because she’d so seen Sting buying yoghurt. I also promised her I’d never tell about the time she… Oh, never mind.

You don’t see many A-listers swanning around Riverside glad-handing us little people. Though not long ago, after a few appletinis, I thought I saw that blue-eyed soulster John Newman aka Sam Smith over in Street 308. You never see them in a room together at the same time, right? Anyway. After I said: ‘Oh My God, if I was 20 years younger’ and ‘I love your song how does it go again?’ about 15 times, his mam came over and told us to fuck off. I haven’t seen him lately and I’m over him, frankly. Lovely singing voice but now that he’s climbed aboard the Bob ‘n’ Bono Ebola Train to Patronising Schmalzville… well, I won’t be buying him another passionfruit caipiroska, let me give you the tip.

Ronan Keating crooned at Olympic Stadium in 2007. Then there were some K-Pop D-listers and Stacey Orrico. Pitbull turned up from his non-stop Miami discoke party in the days before he was everybody’s rapping-bit-in-the-middle bitch. CharmingVille isn’t even a whistlestop for tragic troubadours Michael Learns To Rock, and they’ll go anywhere. Jesus. Can you believe they’re still at it? Southeast Asia has a lot to answer for. David Archuleta. Bryan Adams. Limp Bizkit. Don’t even get me started now.

Anyway. My only physical touching of an actual famous person Bodes-side was in 2008 when me and the ever-fragrant Preap Sovath stood in front of Sambo the elephant for a photo op back when you could make her wear fairy lights and satin pants and put your client’s logo all over her saddle. There’s been a Boeung-Kak-size black hole in the starless firmament since, but the turntables they are a-turning now that we have Buth Seyha, our first home-grown reality TV singing superstar. In case you live in an underwater pineapple or you simply don’t give a shit, he’s a beer-garden wedding singer turned winner of Cambodia’s version of The Voice. The one where questionable cultural tastemakers sit with their backs to you in massive vinyl thrones and press the buzzer if they like the sound you’re making. Young Seyha wins 25K, a moto and enough Cambodia Beer to keep us all believing he can actually sing. Given those melodica ‘n’ bontempi hand-dancing shows, he’s a fucking prodigy.

But meantime back at the office I was calm on the outside but inside gagging to throw down some louche banter and swap numbers with Stoke-on-Trent’s Naughtiest Nightingale. I flicked the crispy batter crumblets off my perky rack, hitched up me trews and stepped into reception with what I hoped was a convincing approximation of an appreciative but not desperate resting niceface.

It was immediately clear no one in reception remotely resembled Robbie Williams. It was actually Bon Jovi, with his teeth and everything. Crestfallen, my sister offered him a fried banana. They chatted for a bit. I went back upstairs to write porn. Just another CharmingVille work week. Ho hum.

Gods & Angels: The dressing of deities

Sophiline Cheam Shapiro, founder/artistic director of Khmer Arts and a key protagonist in the revival of Cambodian classical dance forms, introduces Gods & Angels, a new exhibition showcasing some of the most spectacular hand-sewn costumes – which can take up to six months to make – she has designed for the stage during her 33-year career.

How did you choose which costumes to show in this exhibition?
It’s an exhibition of the most interesting costumes I have used between 2000 and 2006, for the dance pieces Samritechak (2000), The Glass Box (2002), Seasons of Migration (2005) and Pamina Devi (2006). You will be able to see a total of 12 costumes: four large, four medium and four small ones.

Does the show serve a higher purpose?
I want people to see how the many costumes I have used over the years for my works play a role in the wider context of Cambodian culture. The costumes you will see follow the traditional style: that is, the pre-Khmer Rouge style. As you know, the Khmer Rouge made it a point to obliterate dancers; of course, they also wanted to destroy all trace of the costumes they used.

Over the years, I have used traditional costumes in my choreography in an attempt to bring them back to the collective consciousness and reverse the damage inflicted by the Khmer Rouge. I work with five different costume makers. One is particularly interesting, because he learnt the trade from his mother, a costume maker who survived the Khmer Rouge. I want people to learn about the way costumes looked prior to 1979, but I also want people to compare these traditional costumes to contemporary ones and see the evolution.

And you had a hand in the design of each costume, we hear…
I developed an understanding of how a costume should look like through my experience as a dancer and choreographer. When you are in the business as long as I have been, you develop a sense of how everything – from music to costumes – should work. My input, as far as design goes, concerns the choice of patterns, as well as the general size and shape of the costumes.

Is there one particular costume that has special meaning to you?
I have a special regard for the male lead’s costume of Samritechak, the dance piece that I based on Othello. This costume generally surprises audiences: the protagonist exemplifies the ‘macho’ persona, yet the costume is beautifully embroidered, sparkly and perhaps a bit feminine. The piece was staged as part of the Venice Biennale in 2003.

The curator of the festival, Peter Sellars, was very interested in the way I had ‘transformed’ the male protagonist, Othello, for my piece, including the choice of costume. He later revealed that my choreography had inspired him to team up with Toni Morrison and write the play Desdemona.

What’s next?
I’m working on a new choreography for a dance piece, with the working title Kings of Desire. It will be based on the courtship between my husband and I when we first met, and the love story that developed. Him Sophy is already working on the music. Some of the issues I want to touch upon are love, commitment and identity.

WHO: Sophiline Cheam Shapiro
WHAT: Gods & Angels costume exhibition
WHERE: Java Arts Café, #56 Sihanouk Blvd.
WHEN: 6:30pm December 3 – January 25
WHY: Discover classical dance costumes in the traditional Chaktomuk style

Freebird Bar & Grill: Where the heart is

I wanted to do something special this week and I was willing, as Rocky would put it, to ‘go the distance’. Why? This is probably my last Dish column. I wanted to find the ideal place: a restaurant with a good reputation, yet not hugely popular; one that hasn’t been reviewed a million times already. A place with character; somewhere that stands out. I wanted to transcend the boundaries of mere food critic and give you a heart-felt recommendation.

I sat down in front of my computer and thought. I thought for a long time. Nothing. A change of setting might help; I visited a dozen cafes. Then I walked along Riverside, mentally skimming. Still nothing. The thought I might be leaving Phnom Penh, coupled with the fact I felt totally stuck on what to review, brought my spirits down. I headed to one of my favorite spots, hoping it would help me think straight.

Like always, I felt immediately at home. The typically soulful southern US atmosphere – walls bristling with a zillion gadgets and black-and-white pictures of famous musicians and athletes – gave me that warm, cosy feeling I’d been craving. The warm, placid light from the ceiling lamps (the heavy curtains are almost always closed) made me feel like I was in a cave, safe and secluded from the outside world. I sat by the corner and made myself comfortable, feeling better already.

The perky, ever-smiling waitress approached. I browsed the huge menu, full of American classics, interesting specials and ample cocktails, and settled on meatloaf with mash potatoes ($5.75) and a draft anchor ($1.75). Waiting for my food, I sank into the sofa, sporadically reaching for the sweet peanuts and huge basket of popcorn on my table. Suddenly my good friend Soklang appeared, sat by my side and ordered chicken cordon bleu ($7.50). Serendipity.

The meatloaf was impeccable: tender and piquant, it outshone those I used to devour as a high-school student in New England. As I dug into it, the block of meat slowly, effortlessly, crumbled. It was covered with a delicious sweet sauce. The mash potatoes were creamy and salty. Soklang was also happy. Her cordon bleu came in the form of two breaded balls of chicken, with a cheesy heart enveloped in chunks of ham. I had a taste myself and the contrast presented by the cheese, by its creaminess and penetrating flavour, was surprising and satisfying. Steering another piece of meatloaf into my mouth, I had a revelation: Freebird would make a great review.

Freebird Bar & Grill, #69 Street 240; 023 224 712

Rockefeller Report

OK, let’s agree to disagree then
OK, let’s agree to disagree then

Cambodia has found itself on another one of those ‘most corrupt’ lists. According to the website of TRACE, an organisation that specialises in anti-bribery compliance solutions, the newly launched TRACE Matrix is the first global business bribery risk index; a handy dandy anyone-and-their-grandmother-can-use-it corruption-busting tool. After (presumably) punching in a few numbers that looked strangely similar to Ricardo’s high score on Candy Crush, the Trace Matrix (no relation to Keanu) came up with a result that said the Kingdom is a whopping 89 out of 100. Now before you throw up your hands in a ‘we-finally-got-an-A-in-something-that-we-didn’t-have-to-pay-for’ celebration, they claim this score puts us in the category of having ‘a very high expectation of bribes’. So high, in fact, that we barely beat out our nearest competitors Nigeria, Yemen, Angola and Uzbekistan. I hate losing to Uzbekistan in anything except belbogli kurash, but we’ve got a very influential NGO working on that one, so don’t despair: we will own the Uzbeks in the kurash soon – or take the kurash judges out for a really great karaoke night to properly explain how the belbogli results should be from now on.

Rockefeller Without Borders is always highly suspicious of any index/matrix/whatever that presents itself as an all-caps acronym. TRACE. Sounds clever, right? Well, if you’re waiting for the punch line – something like Terrific Results After Cambodian Enjoyment (see preceding idea about big karaoke night) – you’ll sadly be left disappointed. These corruption busters apparently have no time for playing acronym games, unless they are guaranteed a score of 90. Instead, they stole a very fine English word to try to intimidate those whom they’ve deemed ‘risky’. Couldn’t they have used another word? If you want your global index/matrix/whatever to sound investigative and threatening, don’t use ‘trace’, a gentle word that most people associate with the Etch A Sketch. Yes, you remember that wonderful entertainment device: hours of creative enjoyment for the entire family.

Introduced to the world in 1960, not 2014! An inclusive toy; everyone can get involved. No embarrassing rankings to determine who is better than who! Simply turn the two plastic knobs and trace soft, happy lines across a screen. When you want to erase that trace, you just turn the small console upside down, shake it and start again. Now don’t get any ideas! I am not suggesting this newly introduced TRACE intruder could have similar features like, say, turn 89 upside down to 68 thereby tying Cambodia with Nauru and finally giving those sceptical soon-to-be-arriving refugees some hope that we actually do have one thing in common (besides a love of sashimi).

Instead of TRACE, this mysterious, unimaginative group could have called their product EMBRACE: an equally strong word with powerful connotations that would surely make even the most hardened slide-the-briefcase-under-the-table-now-thank-you-very-much corrupster smile and say ‘Sorry, it’s all just been a misunderstanding.’ Reform before you scorn, we always say here at Rockefeller Without Borders. Let’s EMBRACE, not TRACE. But just to be clear: anyone who messes with my personal Etch A Sketch will score a 100/100 on the risk that you will have more than likely started an international incident. Remember, we are without borders here at Rockefeller; we have the capacity to trace, I mean ‘find’ you, faster than you can say ‘belbogli kurash’!

Fight Club

credit: michael klinkhamer

PIX BY MICHAEL KLINKHAMER

Yellow wall merges with dirty white ceiling as my 60 kilos get swung over the shoulder of a beast of a man. This is the same guy I shook the hand of a couple of minutes ago, and while travelling mid-air I find myself not fully grasping what has just happened. The impact as my back hits the floor makes my eyes shut tight and when I open them again my newfound ‘friend’ is bent over me with a closed fist that promptly slams into my face.

I blink and almost fail to register the rapid blur of the kick to my head that follows. I stay down; sweat running down the side of my face, hair standing straight up. I can feel blood pumping through my veins like a double bass drum. I gather some strength to stand up, get into position and then launch myself towards my opponent with the sole purpose of strangling him with my bare hands. I don’t even remember his name.

And I used to be such a nice guy.

Fighting: I don’t care what colour you are, or what language you speak, or what country you live in, we’re all human beings and fighting’s in our DNA. We get it and we like it.” – Ultimate Fighting Championship President Dana White

We live in an age when newspapers are filled with terror, media consistently reporting freakish war crimes. Immersed in pop culture crammed with glorified violence, it is fair to ask: ‘What’s so appealing about fighting?’

The sport of mixed martial arts (MMA) is one of the fastest growing in the world and, like pimples before a date, gyms offering martial arts training are popping up everywhere.

Usually run by a highly skilled, professional trainer, this is where the real magic happens; far from the limelight, multimillion-dollar contracts and live-streamed events.

Ultimately, martial art means honestly expressing yourself.” – Bruce Lee

Rooted in the very cradle of martial arts, Cambodia is an opportunity to seize a piece of the action for yourself. There are three MMA gyms in Phnom Penh, in each of which you’ll find a motley crew of men and women – fat and skinny, tall and short – all rigorously grinding the different techniques. From Cambodia’s Pradal Serey to the Israeli military’s Krav Maga, classic boxing to Brazilian Ju-Jitsu, the Advisor steps into the ring – at great personal risk – to report on the finest fight clubs in the city.

WHY TO FIGHT:

To the untrained eye, cage fighting might seem an act of barbarism that only attracts the hyper-violent and ill of mind. The fact, however, is that MMA fighters are some of the most disciplined, athletic and well-conditioned professionals in the world of sports. But then what else would you expect? The consequence of coming second in a fight isn’t a silver medal. It’s a knee to the face.

It’s not too hard for me to stay motivated when I’m in a sport where everyone’s trying to knock me out.”
– Nick Diaz, professional fighter

MMA training is also an excellent cardio workout that demands a holistic view of your body’s functionality. You might think the buff guys at the gym are also good fighters – and they might be, but big muscles come with a price.
The heavier the weight you carry, the more energy you use; energy you might need when your opponent blocks your punches, throws you on the ground and wrestles you into an arm lock.

Training in MMA strips you of the non-essentials and places you firmly on the path of discipline. Like any sports, you’ll have a hard time reaching your potential if you don’t eat, sleep and train right. But embrace the life of martial arts and you begin building self-esteem that comes from deep within, rooted in the knowledge of your new skills and the hours of honing you’ve invested.

credit: michael klinkhamer

WHERE TO FIGHT:

Paddy’s Gym, #63 Street 294:
Boxing and Kun Khmer/Pradal Serey
4pm – 9pm Monday – Friday
9am – noon Saturday

As the sun sinks behind the huge buildings to the East, I try to dodge oncoming traffic that doesn’t seem to understand I’m late for my Kun Khmer class at Paddy’s. When I arrive, there’s a handful of men sitting on the floor, watching a fighter brutalise one of the punch bags with vicious kicks. The swinging bag looks handmade, free from the familiar brands that usually flood MMA gyms, and as I look around it seems obvious: Paddy’s Fight Club is more about the fighting than anything else.

Started by former bare-knuckle fighter Paddy Carson, it’s one of two locations in Cambodia where fighters local and foreign can train in either boxing or the traditional Pradal Serey, also known as Kun Khmer. Looking forward to having a chat with Paddy himself, I’m a bit disappointed when the cashier tells me he’s out of town, but when the clock closes in on 6pm, the garage-turned-fight-club begins to fill. Initial shadowboxing reveals a mixture of experience levels as round kicks and punches are thrown. The trainers then strap on punch pads and demonstrate the essential four techniques of Pradal Serey: the kick, the punch, the knee and the elbow.

It doesn’t take long to intellectualise the correlation between the lean bodies of the Kun Khmer fighters and the three-minute rounds during which you throw various combinations of lefts and rights, hooks and jabs. The training is exhausting and the friction between floor and foot is taking its toll. Until now, my feet have been comfortably strolling along Riverside with the occasional massage. Now they get put to the test as trainer Panna tells me to stand on my toes and swing my hip around while throwing a kick.

A loud noise. The Phnom Penh sky splits asunder and dumps its watery contents on the metal roof. As people rush to save their belongings from the rain seeping through small openings in the ceiling, I take a rest and curse the fact I didn’t bring tape to wrap the soles of my feet. I buy a big bottle of water and, when the trainer says it’s time for the next round, I shake my head and point to the dirty red blister on my foot.

The last round I spend watching a Russian fighter’s gnarly uppercut before re-joining the group for the final session: sit ups, crunches and pull ups. Afterwards, still willing the rain to stop, I hop on my bike, the sun long gone, and make my way through traffic that doesn’t seem to understand that priority number one is getting me home to rest my pulverised limbs.

A Fighter’s Gym, #27c Street 135
MMA, Kun Khmer, Bokator, grappling
7am to 7pm Monday – Friday
9am to 10:30am Saturday & Sunday

Arriving at A Fighter’s Gym, I immediately recognise the head trainer and owner, Chan Reach, from the recent OneFC Grand Prix tournament at Koh Pich Theatre. Just a couple of kids and his French Bokator trainer accomany him. I sit on the mat, leaning against a black fence just like the ones in cage fighting, while I wait for the MMA class to start. I hope this hour of training will show me some of the takedowns and headlocks I witnessed during the most recent UFC event in Stockholm, Sweden.

When the clock hits six, everyone grabs a skipping rope and starts warming up. The ropes are made of heavy plastic and great for improving coordination, plus they hurt like hell if you don’t jump high enough (always a good motivator). I’m starting to embrace the grind and, with my feet fully healed after the Paddy’s incident, keen to get rowdy with someone from the class (all young guys about the same height and weight as me).

We pair up and start practicing a looping overhand right to the guard of our sparring partner, stopping just before impact to avoid damaging our hands. That overhand is then combined with a wrestling technique: the body lock. Chan Reach explains how a thrown punch can also be used to trick an opponent into exposing himself to other attacks. The next step, he says, is to take your opponent to the ground. Still gripping the waist of his skinny sparring partner, whose only real job is to take a beating, Chan Reach sweeps the man’s legs from under him, sending him tumbling backwards with the help of his bodyweight and a push to the head. As the man slams into the ground, the trainer springs into position and secures side control: a dominant ground position that allows him to land elbows or knees or move in for an arm lock.

Asked about the rising popularity of MMA, Chan Reach, whose gym is favoured among the country’s established and emerging professional fighters, points to the intensely competitive nature of the sport and cites the pride of representing both country and gym.

Riding home, I start to connect the dots. There are so many different variables, both physical and mental, that go into creating a fighter. If you compete, those variables come together in just a few glorious minutes of victory or defeat. Hundreds, maybe thousands of hours, peaking the moment you enter the ring. Even if your opponent is a sworn enemy, you still have to respect the hours of discipline and training they’ve endured. But I’m about to find out that fight training isn’t something that prepares you solely for the ring; it also prepares you for potentially dangerous situations in life.

K1 Fitness & Fight Factory, #131 Street 199
MMA, Krav Maga
7am – 9pm Monday – Sunday

Arriving early to check things out before getting kicked, I’m immediately greeted with steady handshakes from trainers and trainees alike. A few expats are doing pad work on a well-lit floor covered with yellow mats. In the background, old-school rapper DMX asks loudly through the speakers “Where the hood at?”, but no-one answers. Flyers from UFC events hang on the walls alongside photos of one of the hand-shakers, K1 Fitness & Fight Factory Director Francois Xavier Leal de la Torre. Xavier, known as ‘FX’, met the gym’s boss, David Minetti, when he was a kid: FX’s father and Minetti share a background in the French Foreign Legion.

The schedule includes kids’ boxing, cardio conditioning and Krav Maga, a system of self-defence known for its effectiveness/brutality and the class I’ve signed up for. Developed to train the Israeli military for realistic fighting situations, Krav Maga encourages practitioners to avoid confrontation, but, as FX says: “Sometimes you don’t have that option, then what do you do?” He proceeds to answer his own question, demonstrating a slew of defensive-, offensive- and counter-attacks, and setting the standard before we – with extreme caution – practice eye gouging, throat strikes and kicks to the groin.

Where there’s an almost artistic element to the traditions of Kun Khmer, wrestling and Ju-Jitsu, Krav Maga focuses solely on survival. I’m thrown to the ground repeatedly by the smallest manipulation of my joints and finished off with kicks and punches to the head. Efficient and simple, this system. The techniques being taught are (mostly) forbidden in professional settings and I wouldn’t dream of kicking a sparring partner in the crown jewels, but someone threatening my family? That’s a different story.

We continue practicing real-life scenarios, including multiple attackers and how to get out of various locks, as the clock closes in on an MMA class. With energy still to spare, I goof around with FX and experience what it’s like to be on the receiving end of a Krav Maga fighter. A leg kick lands flat on my thigh and I collapse in pain, electing to take a time-out and watch from a safe distance as the next class warms up by crawling the length of the room – which looks both funny and gruelling. Breathing in gasps, I stand up and stagger towards my bike for the ride home.

As the wind starts to chill my body, I become aware of sharp pains in my neck, thigh and – strangely – my right ear. I reflect on the physical challenges of the past week and how well I’ve been sleeping (traditionally, I’m an insomniac). Confident despite having been kicked around and thrown to the ground with my limbs yanked in unnatural directions, I’ve gained valuable knowledge of my inner workings, in just a few days, through brutal trial-and-error.

The soundtrack from Into The Wild seeps into my headphones and the soothing voice of Eddie Vedder accompanies the somewhat wobbly ride home. I get stuck thinking about a quote from the movie that I’m convinced would fit this article, if only I could remember what it was. Just before I fall asleep, I look it up and experience feel a double win, because a) it sums up my Cambodian fight club experiences, and b) it means my memory is still functioning, which hopefully means no brain damage. Sweet!

It is important in life not to be strong, but to feel strong, to measure yourself at least once.” – Into The Wild