Sipping an iced coffee on a Phnom Penh sidewalk, I flipped through the local English paper and landed on the letters page. A foreigner had been traveling around Cambodia's deep forests, rivers, and lakes, and couldn't stop praising how unspoiled the scenery still is—lush green hills, clear water, and wildlife thriving just as comfortably as the friendly locals.
Still, good scenery won't survive reckless messing around. The letter hit a raw nerve, warning that it would be a tragedy if these precious assets were ruined by a few hit-and-run speculators just looking to make a quick buck. Forests and rivers don't belong to any single individual; once they're gone, they're gone for good.
Folks hanging out at the local street-side tea stalls are always talking about how many newcomers have arrived in recent years and how fast the development is moving. The local media runs stories almost daily about illegal logging and land grabbing. If our natural heritage disappears, future generations will only know it from old photos—and that is a heavy price to pay.
