I feel like I'm in some beach town in Florida even though I've never actually been to Florida. There are a lot of Westerners here, that's all I'm saying. And the name Sihanoukville has a more Western ring to it. At least I think so.
Anyway, I arrived here earlier today via shared taxi. Our Toyota Camry, the vehicle of choice in Cambodia, had a broken odometer that read over 243 thousand miles. We crammed seven of us into the vehicle. Four in the back and three in the front. I sat next to a 6'6" Czech guy who sat next to two Cambodian women while two Cambodian guys got cozy in the passenger seat.
This, from what I've seen, is actually an inefficient means of transportation. We could have gotten at least 10 people in that car. Most Camrys are full to the hilt, babies on laps, trunks open, luggage overflowing. We were fortunate I suppose. Nobody else had luggage except the woman with the chickens. Those chickens, tied by their feet, were dropped into a bucket in the trunk with our packs.
On the way there were lots of other animals. Ducks tied to the roof of vans. Pigs, in nets, lying on their side, ready to be transported. I've even seen pigs, big pigs, strapped to the back of a moped. You wouldn't believe what will fit on the back of a moped.
Fortunately, the drive today was relatively short. So, despite the labored breathing, the elbow in the back, the sweat running down my arm, the squeezed conditions weren't intolerable. They actually became somewhat comfortable to a degree after we claimed our territory.
If you could only see the overflowing vans we passed with three guys standing on the bumper holding on for their lives. Only they weren't holding on for their lives. This was routine. If I ever see a car with just one person at the wheel, I shake my head and think what they're missing.
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