The fish come from nearby rivers and lakes in Cambodia's incredible Angkor temple area. Here, food is fuel, merely on the periphery, eaten just to get one to the next complex of wonder and up the steps to the vantage points.
I did slip through Siem Reap's old market quickly though. Snapped a few shots of things that caught my eye.
And it wasn't so much the fish in this one, but the fish muck: all the guts and scales and fins and fish-juice that gets mashed up, hacked at and discarded. My feelings were with the fishmongers. Questions have arisen. How do they cleanse themselves sufficiently of that smell? Is there a special industrial grade soap like the one mechanics use? Do they smell fish all day every day, on their days off, on holidays in other countries? Do they go home with the odd scale in the cuff of their trousers?
The occupational hazards of working with fish!