For a flat rate of $USD 7 we hop into an air-conditioned taxi at the airport. Outside our window the toots of motos and tuk tuks are interspersed with the louder horns of larger cars, including brand new Lexus four-wheel-drives. The chasm between wealthy and poor is evident everywhere. The sights are too many to take in. Families of three, four, sometimes more cling to each other on a moped. Babies ride up front in mum or dad’s arms and if old enough they stand in the footwell, their tiny hands gripping the handlebars. That in itself is an unusual sight to me, but the fact that so few are wearing helmets is the next logical thought that flashes through my mind. I’ve heard of the terrible road toll in Cambodia and campaigns to promote helmet wearing – I’m hoping I’m seeing more helmets now than there would have been only a few years ago.
Motos, cars, food carts and all manner of obstacles line the cramped footpaths. Street vendors sell pineapple, durian, sun-dried fish… I haven’t studied enough of it to know what else lay in those little glass-cased carts. Traffic blends at seemingly chaotic intersections, cars, motos and tuk tuks are like salmon and guppies swimming upstream, weaving their way through the crowds. Yet no one is anxious or angry. In fact a toot of the horn here is about as congenial as you can get when compared with Westerners’ aggressive use. Each little toot seems like a rudimentary courtesy saying: “Hello, just letting you know I’m coming through, take care.” No one is in a massive rush, but they’re not dawdling either - they’re just making their way.
The world outside our window is strangely punctuated by our taxi driver’s choice of music – Elvis. The lyrics of “Don’t be Cruel” stick in my head for days later I don't want no other love, baby, it's just you I'm thinkin' of… After 15 minutes or so our driver turns off the airport road and begins weaving through a number of narrow alleyways where motos hog the pavement and cars jockey for position down these ‘one way’ streets. As we delve deeper into this labyrinth I begin to wonder where he’s taking us but, only a few minutes later, we arrive at our cute boutique hotel near the riverfront. As I will learn along the way, Cambodians don’t let you down and they do everything whilst wearing a smile.
As we grab our backpacks and enter our hotel for a much needed chance to decompress I am struck by the disparity between our accommodation and the ageing buildings across the road from us, tucked behind a façade of tourist restaurants and massage parlours. Already I know that this visit, albeit a short one, will challenge my head and my heart.
