There’s a great beer garden in Phnom Penh that my friends and I like to go to often enough for it to be on our regular list. It’s on the corner of St. 360 and the delightful Tuk S’oy (smelly river). Wafts of hot sewage stench are actually less regular than you would think on the wooden balcony of this establishment, but when the wafts come they can definitely stop the flow of conversation.

The signpost names it simply as ‘Grill Food’. Its 7000 riel for a jug of Angkor and because we are regulars there, the friendly staff know that we prefer to pour our own and if we need ice we’ll take it – which is a welcome break from consistently having to shake your head and put your hand over the glass to avoid a glass of ice with a dash of beer.

There is great food on offer here-freshly grilled beef skewers, chili fried duck, pork fried with kreoung paste, lovely fresh squid salads and beautiful lemongrass steamed clams. The ribs are also pretty good and there’s an array of them to chose from on the menu. Most dishes are between 2-5 dollars.

My friends started last New Year’s Eve here and stacked up a hefty pile of plastic dishes which are used to count how many jugs you have got through. They also ordered the ‘honey covered chicken’ (which ended up being a whole chicken), plus vast quantities of other meat treats. I turned up at the tail end of this and we were all very merry indeed to find that the bill came to less than 40 dollars between 7 people.

One of the best things about this place though is the menu. I am sure we have all had a chuckle at a few menus on our travels, but this one is my personal favourite. Anyone for ‘Fried hot cow penis’ or ‘Hand Some Frog’? Or how about ‘Stride Fried Squid With Safe Sauce? These are just some examples of the wordly offerings on the extensive menu. We normally have a giggle at these then order what we know is good, because we are hungry and have our thoughts fixed on sweet and sour ribs or a lovely plate of fried seafood noodles.

However, recently my friend and I decided to find out just three things in life…What’s so doubtful about the ‘Doubtful Salad’? What makes the ‘Lazy Salad’ so lazy? And just what dish could possibly live up to the grand title of ‘Naked Dancing Shrimp’.

So we ordered, the staff had a giggle with us as and a jug later we found out.

The ‘Lazy salad’ and the ‘Doubtful salad’ came out together. The waitress had to have a close inspection to clear any doubts over which one was the ‘Doubtful salad’ because it looked extremely similar to the ‘Lazy salad’. The majority of the plate was piled with crunchy pepper, onion and carrot covered in a fresh, zesty dressing. We nibbled and nodded approvingly.

Then our chopsticks delved deeper and we discovered the doubt in the salad. Intestines, from which animal we were doubtful lay grey and curling beneath the surface. With that quick chopstick prod it all made sense.

Next we moved onto the ‘Lazy salad’ and discovered the laziness just as quickly in the salad. The laziness stemmed from the fact that the chef had just given us another plate of ‘Doubtful salad’ with a couple of stir fried shrimp on top. You have to admit, that’s fairly lazy, which was explained to us in plain English on the menu. We could have really pre-empted it all but we were happy to know for sure about the meaning behind the menu’s names. We ate the shrimps, crunched on more salad and ordered another jug.

We had almost forgotten about the ‘Naked dancing shrimp’ but when we saw it coming our way we were excited to find out what made those shrimps dance. Well, it was pretty obvious the naked part was going to mean they were unshelled, but what made them dance was an unexpected treat. So surf and turf is the delightful combination of land and sea on a plate, right?

‘Naked dancing shrimp’ is a step above (or below) that. It’s the delightful combination of under the land, on the land and in the sea. Ants, beef and shrimp are fried together with carrot and oyster sauce. Ingenious, and as the ants were quite big we didn’t bother with them but the thinly sliced tender beef and the naked shrimps were cooked perfectly and tasted great.

At the end of the meal we were very satisfied with our three remaining plates scraped clean of everything except intestines and ants.

We will always enjoy Grill Food for the pretty wooden balcony, the friendly service, fresh food and the satisfyingly tiny bill at the end. I just hope they never change the menu, or at least not before we have ventured into the realms of ‘Hot Butter Salad or ‘Fried cow tongue with large red ant and edible aquatic plant’.

Anna Spencer

Dining at the Hotel Nine restaurant has dispelled a couple of myths for me:

1. Hotel restaurants aren’t usually very good, and
2. Tapas are too small to be satisfying.

This unassuming little spot is quite the hidden gem. Unadvertised, unpublicised and tucked away in the boutique hotel on Street Nine, it looks like a casual hotel café for guests to drop into for a sandwich after hitting the tourist trail.

But it’s a delightful surprise. Inside the café, you’ll find a host of delicious dishes – many prepared with a culinary twist and delivered in portions large enough to satisfy.

First, there’s the location. As with several other Phnom Penh boutique hotels and restaurants, it follows the same formula: an exterior which belies what lies behind the wall. Once passing through the entrance, you’ll find yourself in an attractive setting with a small sparkling pool and al fresco dining as well as an air-conditioned glass-enclosed space for meals – breakfast, lunch and dinner.

I found the indoor café a little stark in atmosphere and thought it could use some wall hangings, colour and dim lights in the evening to soften it up. But the menu, though small in quantity was high in quality and just right for my taste.

The focus is on tapas, with 17 to choose from (as well as a handful of pizzas, paninis and bauguettes). On our recent visit, my husband, Skip, commented that as many as 10 of the small plates appealed to him (and the others weren’t an option since he doesn’t eat red meat).

So we settled for four.

It’s important to note that Hotel Nine’s “tapas” are not your traditional Spanish fare. Here, tapas are small plates that incorporate Cambodian flavours (loc lac meatballs and chicken skewers with amok sauce) as well as western-style bites, including Aussie chiko rolls and pork sausages.

We started with the trio of homemade dips (olive tapenade, capsicum and cashew and sundried tomato with parmesan) closely followed by three more plates: prawn, coriander and sesame toast with chilli dipping sauce; crumbed pesto chicken strips with lime mayo and Peking duck pancakes with plum sauce.

Every dish arrived on a long, narrow white plate, garnished with fresh herbs and decorated with slivers of vegetables or chillies. And each one was tasty, fresh and expertly prepared (a combination of the culinary skills of Franco, the congenial Australian hotelier, and his creative Cambodian cook).

Our favourite of the dips was the capsicum/cashew combination, closely followed by the sundried tomato. The crunchy prawn toast could have used a touch more prawn for my liking and I’d like a smidgeon more pesto in the chicken and less cucumber in the Peking duck (disclaimer: I detest cucumber, so that’s just me).

But we found every one of our choices to be mouth-wateringly good and were disappointed that we couldn’t fit in another bite after completing them all.

The pesto chicken strips were crispy, puffy and constructed in such a way we wanted to dissect them to discover the chef’s secret (eventually divulged to us by Franco) and the Peking duck pancakes were Skip’s favourites since the duck was tender and flavourful and encased in soft warm wrappers with sprigs of spring onion emerging from each one.

Almost everything on the menu would be great for a cocktail party since, at $5 per dish, you could gather together quite a selection for a reasonable price (home deliveries are available by ordering online at www.hotel-nine.com).

At the end of dinner, our full stomachs didn’t stop us from inquiring about the other meals at Hotel Nine and I’m now keen to return for what sounds to be one of the best breakfast deals in town.

Every day, the hotel serves a buffet which may include fruit, cereal, eggs, pancakes with caramelised bananas, noodles, French toast and sausages – all for $4.

So, since anything with caramelised bananas has my name on it, I know I’ll be back.

Gabrielle Yetter

Hotel Nine
Cuisine: Fusion/eclectic/tapas/Khmer
Location: #48, street 9, Phnom Penh, Cambodia

After having crossed the calm river on the passenger ferry, and having ridden the dirt tracks past hay houses, slim cows and countryside pagodas we arrive at my partner’s family house in Lovea Aim District, Kandal Province. It is my third Khmer New Year trip here.

The motorbike engine stops and the soothing sounds of the countryside surround us as my partner’s Mum and Dad advance towards us with open arms. We slip off our muddy flip flops and settle up onto the bamboo porch to drink some Chinese tea with the family.

My partner has two sisters and 6 brothers, so there is a very large welcome crowd. During the family chitchat I struggle to prove my improvement in the lingo since my last visit. I know for a fact I am getting better or at least less self conscious at speaking Khmer but still, I am far from fluent.

Before I came to Cambodia, relaxing meant a different thing to me: relaxing was taking the dog for a walk, reading, watching ‘Come Dine With Me’, having a few beers with friends etc. Now I recognize these things as relaxing activities.

Since moving to Cambodia I have been perfecting the art of a different kind of relaxation, which to be honest at times has felt just as challenging as a busy roundabout in rush hour Phnom Penh on a push bike.

That is the art of ‘somraa’, relaxing, Khmer style; lying down, eyes optionally open or closed and doing nothing. Relaxing without activity. So I lie back on the bamboo and do nothing quite happily for who knows how long. Until it is time to go down to the river and wade in the lovely squelchy water, splashing around with the kids and then returning back to the house for a refreshing ice cold bucket shower and an elevated ‘somraa’ on a hammock. Bliss.

I’ve learnt from my last two Khmer New Years here in the province that it is a good idea to relax whenever possible because the celebrations here go on for five days. You need stamina. As soon as the the big, old stack of speakers blast off later on today there will only be a few hours between 3am and 6am when they are turned off.

So after more hammock somraa and a card game with some of the younger members of the family where I inevitable get beaten by a seven year old, it’s time to head to the family kitchen hut.

This is where I feel especially happy. I help my partner’s mum and sisters pound tiny silver fish with kreoung to make thin patties and turn herbed rice batter in their sunken hollows over the open flame so that they become the crispy balls that we can all snack on with sweet chilli sauce. This is not the kind of cooking class you would find in Phnom Penh. This is special and I am honored.

Later on the drinking ceremonies commence. Big rice bags are laid out under the banana trees at the back of the house and family members and villagers come to join the circle. There is green mango and delicious fried pork to nibble on as the drinking gets underway. It is unheard of for Khmer people to drink without snacking, which is a just generally brilliant in my opinion.

I sit with the ladies on one half of the circle and we drink our rice wine with coke and giggle as we out-drink many of the men. That’s not to say after a couple of hours we aren’t tipsy. I’ve lost the thread of the conversation but at this point a lot of ‘sabay nas’ (very happy) and ‘joal moi’ (cheers) is enough to feel part of it all.

As dusk descends the speakers crackle and the music crashes upon us. A chair is laid out with flowers for us to dance around and the insects swarm to the strip lights as we all sway over to the ‘dance floor’.

As we dance, I move my arms and legs in a representation of the effortlessly graceful movements of the Khmer dancing style. Everyone encourages me and seems generally delighted by my dancing. I know I’m a million miles away from their grace ( my fingers just weren’t genetically formed to bend and move that way) but over the last three years I’ve had a lot of practice and I can at least say that I am moving in the lovely rhythm of our group.

The children come to dance with me and then I see my partner’s Mum come over. She wears her traditional Khmer skirt and top as she always does during the dancing festivities, but she’s also donned a diamond encrusted baseball cap. It’s her dancing hat, I guess, and I love it.

She saunters over with her gangster hat and wide beetle nut stained grin and joins my side to dance. This is one of the moments when I think in the back of my head ‘This is not how I imagined my life to turn out. But I like it.’

The dancing goes on until 12am. I sleep like a log on the bamboo under a mosquito net until the speakers start up again at 6am. After coffee (I always buy my partner’s Dad coffee which is also a slightly selfish ploy to ensure my coffee addiction is met) the drinking starts again. At 10am.

We go over to the neighbor’s house and huddle on the porch underneath the stilted house to escape the sun. Here we are in a circle again. There are another two ladies, my partner, a few of his brothers and neighbors.

A well-built neighbor is the cocktail maker this morning. This is my first experience of a 10am rice wine cocktail, but this is Cambodia so go with the flow. Rice wine (a lot) is added to a large glass of crushed ice and lime is squeezed into it and then coke (a very little) is added. The cocktail maker then puts a cloth over the top of the glass and gives it a massive whack on the ground so it all fizzes together and then whoever is in line must drink it down in one go. I love the all or nothing style of this, especially as the girl next to me is on her fourth cocktail whilst still nimbly hacking green mangoes up with a machete in preparation for a lunch time salad.

A wandering chicken is carried off, lovely smells waft over and a short while later a freshly killed, cut and lemongrass-fried-chicken is in the middle of the circle.

I know I am smiling inanely and speaking very bad Khmer but I am having the time of my life. Still, as midday approaches I decline cocktail number five and return to the family bamboo porch and practice that skilled art of ‘somraa’, relaxing, doing nothing, drifting…..

Anna Spencer

But it’s not just the subs. Far from it. A story this week must have left readers with the impression that if you take even a few steps down the riverside area, you’ll be pestered by armies of gangsters trying to scalp you of thousands of dollars in rigged blackjack games.

It appears you can’t walk anywhere in the capital’s tourist spots without some kindly member of a Filipino crime syndicate complimenting you on your sunglasses or choice of ice cream, and before you know it you’re hypnotised into a tuk tuk.

Generally, the fraudster will make up a story about how his (insert relative) is heading to your country and could you give some advice/assurance to (insert relative) while enjoying a lovely meal at their home. Then you’ll be hoodwinked into a game of cards upstairs, frogmarched to a bank to pay off your losses, and end up walking home without your shirt.

The paper warns that over the past week there have been “numerous instances” of a blackjack scam targeting visitors to the capital – so many in fact that it’s impossible to count them, it seems. But nowhere is there any context. Phnom Penh is a city of more than two million people, and scams are widespread in every city in the world – yes, even in rich countries where gullible backpackers come from.

Although you can only feel desperately sorry for the victims forced to cut back their travel plans after handing over wads of their parents’ cash in rigged card games, there is absolutely no evidence that these frauds are on the increase, as the rag warns.

There have been reports of Filipino blackjack gangs operating in Phnom Penh for at least two years, and probably much longer. And as tourists are reticent to report crimes to police because it usually involves handing over even more money, there is no way of knowing if the problem is growing. All I know is having walked down the riverside thousands of times, I’ve only been approached by a Filipino crook once, and he quickly lost interest.

As I say, you have to have sympathy with the victims, and can only admire their trust in humanity. But where do these people come from? How do they find themselves sitting at a card table in a stranger’s house, betting the sort of sums the average Cambodian takes years to earn?

There are many warning signs along the way as the scam progresses. Many times when they realise now is the time to get out. But like a rabbit in the headlights, they see the fraud through to the bitter end.

I know because I’ve been there. Last year, I was given a job by a news desk to investigate the so-called Filipino blackjack mafia preying on tourists in Ho Chi Minh City. After wandering around for a couple of days in District 1, I was eventually approached by two Filipino girls who invited me to lunch at their house the next day. I knew the risks, but I was getting paid to do it.

On the way they asked me the usual questions about how long I’d been in the city and whether I knew anyone there. They might just as well have asked whether I had my bank card with me, what my pin number was, and whether I had a strong tolerance to Rohypnol. Eventually, after many unnecessary twists and turns, the taxi arrived at the house.

“Oh we didn’t know our uncle would be here,” they said innocently.

JR, as he called himself, was a large, confident man in a thick, gold chain, and immediately dominated the proceedings. I was to drink an (unopened) can of Coke with him in front of the telly, while the women did the work in the kitchen. I realised I was probably at the right place, as victims had described – two-storey, huge lounge with kitchen at the back, and a spiral staircase leading up to the room where the card table would be.

JR kept grilling me about whether I had a house in the UK, how much it was worth, whether I was married, had friends in Saigon – you know, the sort of questions that wouldn’t raise suspicion in anyone. On and on he went, as I sat there like a gullible fool.

Then we sat down to eat. We shared the same food, but I watched every hand manoeuvre as they served. Then I felt a tingle. A mild rush. It was probably my imagination.

My host was already on about how he worked as a croupier at a big casino. The next stage would no doubt involve being shown a fool-proof way of beating a casino, a couple of dummy hands of poker 21 (a game that’s like blackjack but involves bluffing). Then there would be the dealer nose scratches he’d teach me to show I had a good hand, and then the sudden appearance of a rich businessman we’d supposedly set out to fleece. I’d win the first few hands, then the businessman would suddenly raise the ante.

The pulse in my head got worse. Surely it was just paranoia? I’d watched every scrap of food and movement. Maybe it was that fish they’d left to one side? I still had a hangover, but it had suddenly got worse. Or at least I thought it had.

“What do you do for a living?” JR asked.

So I told him. It was the only card I had to play, so to speak, given the increasing fog. I told him I was a journalist for a TV company and would be working in the city for a month or two, and had a couple of stringers there helping me. His expression didn’t change, but something inside him did. He began lecturing the others about how difficult a job journalism is – he was clearly an expert on everything. Then he began a bizarre conversation.

“Because you’re a reporter, nothing will happen to you in my house. Otherwise my name will be on the telly,” he laughed, gesturing at the flat-screen TV behind him.

It was a strange joke. I thanked him for his hospitality, stood up slightly unsteadily, but not nearly as badly as I feared, and headed straight to the front door. He was right beside me in a flash with another lecture.

“You know, you should never go to a stranger’s house in Asia,” he said. “You shouldn’t just trust people like that. You don’t know who they are…”

He kept on and on. He almost seemed concerned. I was being lectured on naivety and the dangers of fraudsters by the known head of a Filipino crime gang.

He was right though. And who would know better? I shouldn’t have been there at all. The blackjack is just a side show, it’s not an essential part of the plan. It’s just a way to break you down and put you in a powerless situation. A gun can do the same thing far quicker if necessary.

It’s just down to the witnesses who saw or didn’t see you go in there. And no-one sees anything in some parts of town. Not after a few free bottles of scotch anyway. The streets of Phnom Penh are not overrun with Filipino gangsters. Far from it. But as I’ve always said – if you don’t trust anyone in this country, you won’t go far wrong.

Alex Watts

There are now just five face down cards remaining. One of those five cards is the jackpot-winning Joker. Another card is an Ace that wins $800.

There was a very interesting post in the discussion forum this week about the Walkabout Joker Draw. Apparently, a tuk tuk driver told a somewhat credible expat that a Walkabout security guard had offered to rig the Joker Draw for $50. Moreover, the tuk tuk driver claimed that after paying the guard $50 his ticket number was actually called, but he failed to turn over the jackpot-winning Joker.

I have no idea whether this story is true. But it does make me question one aspect of the how the drawings are conducted. My recollection is that the Walkabout’s expat manager normally announces that Walkabout’s “head of security” will pull the winning ticket from the drum. As if that conveys an air of legitimacy like having Pricewaterhouse Coopers certify the Academy Award votes.

Involving the “head of security” in the drawing actually makes no sense at all. The security dudes at Walkabout are known to be corrupt and money-grubbing chancers who shake hookers down for kickbacks for the privilege of “working” in the bar. Moreover, if any dude making about $150 a month knows in advance that he’s going to draw the ticket each week for drawings worth up to a hundred times his monthly salary, the thought of how to rig the drawings is probably going to cross his mind. A lot.

Why doesn’t the Walkabout’s expat manager just pull the winning ticket? Or why not line up six barmaids in order behind the bar, roll a die, and then have the die dictate which of the six barmaids pulls the ticket? That way, no one knows who will be pulling the ticket until the moment of the drawing.

At a bare minimum, given that drunken tuk tuk drivers are telling expats that the the Walkabout security dudes are rigging the drawing for $50, the Walkabout’s management should at least make the “head of security” wear a short sleeve shirt and show his empty hands before he reaches into the drum.

Anyway, let’s get to this week’s odds. This week’s $13,877 jackpot is $1,037 more than last week’s jackpot, meaning the bar sold 2,074 tickets last week. Not too far from my 2,050 ticket estimate last week.

This week, I expect that the bar will sell 2,500 tickets. That’s still far less than the roughly 4,000 tickets that the bar sold during Week 49 back in December 2009.

With 2,500 tickets in the drum and just five face down cards remaining, your odds of winning the jackpot with a single $1 ticket will be 1 in 12,500. Spending a dollar to buy a 1 in 12,500 chance to win $13,877 is an excellent wagering opportunity. That’s an 11% edge to the player.

There is also a 1 in 12,500 chance of winning $800 by having your ticket called and then turning over an Ace. With that opportunity, the advantage to the player increases to 17%. So every $1 ticket purchased Friday night will have an actual value of about $1.17 as soon as it is placed in the drum. (13,877/12,500 + 800/12,500 = 1.17).

Good luck!

Gavinmac

Getting into Gastrobar Botanico is a bit like foraging in the jungle. If you don’t have a machete on hand, it’s a bit of a challenge to skirt the hanging vines and push through the leafy plants flapping across the path.

However, once you’ve strayed off the beaten path (aka Street 29), there’s a little oasis tucked away behind its walls (and, in all fairness, I may have visited on days when the gardener took a couple of days off).

Located in one of the city’s small enclaves of new restaurants (the other is opposite Bopha Titanic on the riverfront), Botanico is operated by the same owners at the expertly-run Chinese House restaurant. And it shows.

The food is excellent. The atmosphere delightful. Great attention is paid to every detail (such as the hanging candle-lights in coloured glass bottles and the neatly-arranged magazine rack for browsing).

And Nature provides her own choreography as the singing of birds permeates the air and jasmine blossoms emit perfumed aromas in their own welcoming embrace.

I visited Botanico several times over the past week to try it out at different times of day –
breakfast, lunch and cocktails – and all times of the day, the setting was delightful.

Padded couches and bed-like arrangements are spaced far enough apart to provide privacy, and each seating area is sheltered by a canvas roof, offering protection from the sun or the rain. More than 2,000 tropical plants and flowers provide a lush background in this secret garden and there’s counter seating on heavy wood barstools as well as a scattering of shorter stools around a central area and an open kitchen for observation (and inhalation of aromas).

The menu proclaims it’s a “Soft Opening Menu” (it opened in January) and consists of a selection of small dishes, light meals and interesting variations on traditional preparations.

Breakfast is a little limited as there are only a handful of offerings: yoghurt with fresh fruit, muesli and honey ($4.50) or scrambled eggs with tomato, pepper, onion and cheese ($5). However, the croissant with smoked salmon and herbs could easily work as a morning dish so we ordered each of the first two breakfast selections along with a croissant as an accompaniment.

Both dishes arrived as attractive presentations in several little bowls containing separate items for diners to assemble at the table. The fluffy scrambled eggs were delectable and the muesli dish was equally good but could have done with more yoghurt (or less muesli).

The only unexciting item was the croissant which was dense and appeared to have been defrosted. Coffee is provided by Illy, dark and delicious and served various ways, including latte, cappuccino and a lesser-known cortado (a smaller and stronger version of latte).

Most dishes are small so they are perfect for appetizers or lunch dishes but a single portion may be a little lacking for hearty diners. Among them are ciabatta and foccaccia dishes – chicken with melted gouda, bacon and tartare sauce ($6.50) or veggie with goat cheese, sundried tomato and rocket ($5) – an Italiano beef burger ($8), salad with tomato tartare, goat cheese and basil ($5) and corn bread with chicken avocado, onion and chunky tomato sauce ($6). I had the tomato tartare salad for lunch and found it to be fresh, tasty and not overly cheesy and accompanied by slivers of tomato-flavoured toast.

On our evening visit, we arrived right after the heavens had opened, pushed our way through the wet jungle and encased ourselves in a private seating area wrapped in waterproof canvas. We were too late for Happy Hour (3-6pm) but found an interesting list of cocktails to choose from, including a deliciously spicy lemongrass chili mary (a variation on the bloody mary), Pimm’s, sangria, various types of wine ($3 per glass) and several beers. There’s even a bottle of Billecart Salmon, one of my favourite French champagnes ($79).

We sampled the potatas bravas ($2.50) and a chicken skewer ($1.50), both of which were delicious and extremely more-ish. And I’m keen to try the deep-fried champignon and cream cheese lumpias ($4) and salted cake slices with sundried tomatoes, olives and feta ($2).

So far, the only course I haven’t sampled is the final one, which I’m saving for an occasion of indulgence. There’s a Mi Tiramisu item that’s described as “marscapone mousse on a drunk cake with coffee English cream”.

Now how can anyone in their right mind resist that one?

Gabrielle Yetter

Gastrobar Botanico
#9b, Street 29 (near Sihanouk Blvd. and street 294), Phnom Penh, Cambodia
Cuisine: tapas, salads, sandwiches

Weighing up short-term economic gains against long-term environmental costs is always a thorny issue in geopolitics. But when the profits are reaped in one country and the ecological costs are suffered in another, then it’s all the more problematic.

There are few better examples than the controversial hydroelectric dams planned for the Mekong River – particularly the Xayaburi Dam in northern Laos, which campaigners say could devastate fish stocks in Cambodia and Vietnam by blocking migration routes, and may lead to the extinction of critical species like the giant Mekong catfish and Irrawaddy dolphin.

In a worrying development, it appears Thailand’s CH Karnchang is ploughing ahead with construction of the $3.5bn site despite regional agreements that no work should take place until more environmental research is done into the likely impact on the 60 million people living in the Lower Mekong area.

On Tuesday, the development company’s chief executive Plew Trivisvavet informed the Thai Stock Exchange that its subsidiary Karnchang (Lao) had signed a contract with the Xayaburi Power Company (conveniently, another subsidiary of CH Karnchang) – and construction work was scheduled to begin on March 15 last month.

At the time of writing, the Cambodian government said it was trying to get confirmation from Laos that the dam was going ahead, and that the need for further study agreed by the four members of the Mekong River Commission (MRC) – Thailand, Cambodia, Laos and Vietnam – last December had been ignored.

Officials again warned of the huge environmental costs the project is likely to bring to Cambodia and its future generations, and stressed the need for more research to be carried out.

There is little doubt the issue will be raised at the fourth Japan-Mekong summit on Saturday, when the leaders of Cambodia, Laos, Myanmar, Thailand and Vietnam are due to meet Japan’s Prime Minister Yoshihiko Noda to discuss how best to ensure prosperity, stability and sustainable development in the Mekong region and East Asia.

Environmental groups say work is already being carried out on the dam – including land clearing and road building – and some of the local population have been forced to relocate.

Ame Trandem, Southeast Asia programme director at environmental group International Rivers, blasted CH Karnchang’s actions and said the Thai firm “has once again demonstrated that it is a socially irresponsible company attempting to push forward a costly and destructive project.”

She said she hopes stakeholders raise the matter at the company’s annual shareholders’ meeting in Bangkok on Tuesday.

“Shareholders should demand that CH Karnchang immediately halt all construction of the dam and abide by international law. As the regional governments have yet to approve this dam, CH Karnchang has no authority to press forward with the construction,” she added.

“Furthermore, CH Karnchang’s shareholders should be alarmed that the company has failed to even carry out a transboundary environmental impact assessment. Without knowing the full extent of devastation this project is likely to cause, it’s risky business to proceed.”

The Xayaburi Dam – the first of 11 dams proposed for the Lower Mekong mainstream – will take an estimated eight years to build and will bring huge economic benefits to Laos, which will sell 95% of the dam’s 1,260 kilowatts of hydroelectric power to Thailand.

So far, the fast-flowing currents of the Mekong have only been dammed across its upper reaches in China. But experts believe that if the Xayaburi project goes ahead, the other 10 (eight in Laos, and two in Cambodia – which are also subject to the MRC consultation process) – will also be built.

The World Wide Fund for Nature (WWF) says construction of any dams on the Mekong mainstream should be shelved for at least 10 years until a “proper risk assessment is conducted”.

As well as blocking fish migration routes, the group said a recent review of the Xayaburi project confirmed it would also block part of the sediment flow – which is essential for maintaining balance in the river’s ecosystem.

Last month, a study by Stanford University in California highlighted the “catastrophic impact” dams on the Mekong could have on Cambodia’s impoverished villagers, who scratch a living in the world’s largest inland fishery.

“The revenue will come to Laos, by exporting energy to Thailand,” said the report’s lead author Guy Ziv, “and the fish will be lost in the floodplains of Cambodia and Vietnam, but mainly in Cambodia.”

“[The loss of fish] translates to a big impact on food security of a very poor population. There is a huge population that relies on a cheap food supply from fish, and their livelihood will be impacted.”

In the fast-developing nations of SE Asia, ecological, humanitarian and diplomatic concerns always seem to get a backseat in the relentless quest for economic growth. Highly destructive projects like dam building are sold on the promise of the monetary benefits they bring – and as always it is the poor who will suffer most, and benefit least. But when they aren’t even living in the country making the money, it is far harder to stomach.

Alex Watts

Top photo used courtesy of International Rivers

There are now just six face down cards remaining. One of those six cards is the jackpot-winning Joker. Another card is an Ace that wins $800.

Last week there was a rather notable jump in Joker Draw ticket sales. From Week 43 through Week 46, the bar’s weekly ticket sales only very slowly increased from 1,276 to 1,406 tickets. But last week, with a $12,000 jackpot and just seven cards remaining, the bar sold 1,680 tickets, almost a 20% increase over the prior week.

I suspect that the Walkabout will sell about 2,050 tickets this week. That may seem like a lot, but by historical standards, it is not. On December 11, 2009, the Joker Draw reached Week 48, with just six cards remaining, and a $13,000 jackpot. The bar sold 4,000 tickets that week, and the jackpot increased to $15,000 the following week.

What can we learn by comparing the jackpots and ticket sales from 2009 to 2012? The 2009 Week 48 jackpot was $13,000, and the 2012 Week 48 jackpot is $12,840. That shows remarkable consistency – the similarity in Week 48 jackpots means the Walkabout has sold almost the same total number of tickets through the first 47 weeks of this run of the game as it did back in 2009.

But if the total ticket sales through 47 weeks are so similar to 2009, then why is the Walkabout only going to sell a little about 2,050 tickets this week, when it sold 4,000 tickets during Week 48 in 2009? Here’s my best explanation for that. Back in 2009, the bar probably sold very few tickets during the early weeks of the game, but then it sold very large numbers of tickets during the later weeks. The 2009 players were quite saavy. They eschewed buying tickets during the early weeks when the odds were poor and the jackpots were low, then they poured their money into tickets during the later weeks as the odds and jackpots improved.

In 2011-2012, the ticket sales have been steadier and distributed more evenly throughout the 47 weeks. The 2011-12 players have robotically bought tickets each week, without as much regard for the odds or the jackpot amounts. This evidence would suggest that more casual players are playing the Joker Draw in 2012, or that Walkabout patrons are simply getting dumber.

Let’s turn to this week’s odds. With an estimated 2,050 tickets in the drum and just six face down cards remaining on the board, your odds of winning the jackpot with a single $1 ticket will be 1 in 12,300. Spending a dollar to buy a 1 in 12,300 chance to win $12,840 is a very good wagering opportunity. That’s a 4% edge to the player.

When you add in the opportunity to win $800 by turning over an Ace, the advantage to the player increases to 11%. Every $1 ticket purchased Friday night will have a value of $1.11 as soon as it is placed in the drum. (12,840/12,300 + 800/12,300 = 1.109).

If an impoverished hooker or English teacher is lucky enough to have his or her ticket number called, then the value of that ticket will temporarily increase to $2,273, as it will give the ticket holder a 1 in 6 chance at $12,840 and a 1 in 6 chance at $800. But the gambling fates can be quite cruel, and there’s still a 2 out of 3 chance that the lucky ticket holder will turn over a worthless card and walk away with nothing at all.

Good luck!

Gavinmac