“A Little House in the Middle of the Rice Fields”: Clara Neumann, Between Purpose and Letting Go
- Editorial team
- 2 hours ago
- 4 min read
From the Basque Country to Senegal, the Philippines and now Cambodia, Clara Neumann found far more than a detour in Kep — a rhythm, a breath of fresh air, and perhaps a reason to stay a little longer.
Her name is Clara Neumann — a bright first name, a surname with Alsatian roots — and her journey reads like one of those world maps scribbled on the back of an envelope, full of arrows and unexpected turns. A trained social worker, a French teacher by adoption, a hiker and runner in her spare time, she is 30 years old and has her own quiet way of inhabiting the world: lightly, but with conviction. We met in Kep, over a cup of something warm, her gaze drifting toward the hills.
You’re from the French Basque Country — how does someone go from Bayonne to becoming a social worker?
Originally I wanted to study law. I wanted to defend people who needed defending. But the studies felt too long, too theoretical. That’s how I discovered social work — hands-on, on the ground, accompanying people in unstable situations: children placed by family courts, adults with disabilities, people trying to rebuild their lives. It’s concrete, it’s human, and it demands a strong mindset and a balanced life outside of work. I learned that fairly quickly.
After Bordeaux, you left for Senegal, then the Philippines. What drives someone to leave like that?
Simply the desire to see something different. In Senegal I taught French at a nursery school in Dakar for two and a half years. Then the Philippines — two more years in a kindergarten. You end up with a foothold in Asia almost without realising it. When the opportunity came to move to Cambodia, it felt like the obvious next step.
And Cambodia — what were those first days like?
Wonderful, truly. My very first contact was actually rather unexpected — I had signed up for the Angkor Marathon, which ended up being postponed due to tensions at the Thai border. There was a beautiful solidarity among participants and volunteers; they made sure the race happened anyway. Then in Phnom Penh, I immediately felt welcomed. People have this infectious smile, a real gift for putting you at ease. And those pagodas scattered through the city, the smell of incense… it gives everything a calmer pace, even for a capital city.
You’ve travelled through several provinces. What left the strongest impression?
Angkor, of course — inevitable and overwhelming. But what really moved me was Mount Oral, Cambodia’s highest peak. I climbed it with friends, we slept in tents, it was raw, physical, magnificent. I also loved the Elephant Valley Project near Mondulkiri — very close to nature, great hiking, beautiful waterfalls. And the Koh Rong islands… turquoise water, beige sand, still a little wild. It’s paradise.
And Kep? How did you end up here?
I treated myself to a yoga retreat at Kep West Wellness Centre for my 30th birthday — five days with Lana as my teacher. Restorative yoga, deeply introspective. I was staying at Knai Bang Chatt, so it was a truly beautiful package. The food, the setting, the team… I needed all of it. I had just resigned from the school, for reasons both professional and personal, and I needed to reconnect with myself.
And you didn’t leave…
During the retreat, I went for a bike ride with my yoga teacher one afternoon. We came across a monk at a pagoda — Wat Phnom Pon — who was looking for an English teacher for the monks. Volunteer work, no funding. It is thanks to Madame Dupuis, who generously supports this pagoda, that accommodation was offered to me: a small house in the middle of the rice fields. I took my time to get organised, gave up my apartment in Phnom Penh, sold my things. And here I am.
How are the classes at the pagoda going?
At first there were forty of them for a two-hour class — it was hard to create real conversation in those conditions. I reorganised into two groups of about twenty. They’re curious, engaged. English isn’t easy for them — a different alphabet, different sounds entirely. I try to translate a few words into Khmer as I go, which makes them laugh every time I attempt to pronounce something. But at least everyone participates. That’s what matters.
And outside the classes, how is life in Kep?
I’m back to morning yoga with Lana. I run — I love running. I swim, I read, I write. I’m also thinking about training in Khmer massage. It’s a simple, well-paced life, and it suits me.
What do you love most about Cambodia? And least?
What I love most? The solidarity. There’s always a solution in this country. I broke down on my scooter once — before I even had time to ask for help, someone had already stopped. A trailer, three dollars, five minutes: I was home. That’s Cambodia. A people who have been through unimaginable horrors and are still standing, focused, smiling… there’s something that genuinely carries me here.
What I love least? The inequality. Seeing people searching through rubbish bins for food in the evenings in Phnom Penh — you end up getting used to it, and that itself is the saddest part.
Clara Neumann heads back to France in August, bound for Marseille and the friends waiting for her there. She leaves with a handful of badly pronounced Khmer words, plenty of kilometres in her legs, and the quiet certainty that the best encounters sometimes happen on a bicycle path, somewhere between two rice fields.
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