Chaos

Kompong Thom is a dusty, busy transportation hub.  As a tourist, this is not a place you would give a second glance.  The only reason a tourist would stop here is to get of the bus for a meal at the Arunas Hoel, home of the Illy Espresso I have become very fond of.  I also get great joy from having the young wait staff pounce on me because I leave a tip.  Rare thing here.

As I said, at first glance the town doesn't warrant a minute more of the tourist's valuable time.  Scratch the surface just a bit, however, and this rough, dusty burg yields up hidden treasures.  Jungle temples for solitary wandering are only an hour away.  Lively Wats up long winding stairs are just to the South.  Small streets wander along the river, only half a kilometer from the chaos of the main road which is National Highway 6, yet as tranquil as the far-flung countryside.

From my third story terrace I have a view of the wonders of Cambodian traffic managment.  My Cambodian brothers can do many ingenious things, but, like my Indian brothers, they cannot park for beans.  Parallel  parking is a skill that does not exist here.  And no one parks alone.

In India, no vehicle can back up or park without it being a group effort.  Often times, passersby will get into the act.  I think they just do it for the entertainment factor.  It certainly is entertaining as hell for me.  Cambodia is no different except that one "backer-upper" is usually sufficient.  As I smoked a fine cubano, I had the catbird seat for the theater below.  

Traffic traveling on and crossing the main road is another source of joy.  There are trucks and buses barreling along, honking a warning to the slower vehicles, which are various and sundry.  Scooters dodge about like gadflies, remorks trundle along  without the means to turn out of the way, and Tuk-tuks bleat their pitiful horns as a signal that they are crossing the road.  It all seems to work, but there is no reason why it should.  In fact, the true result should be carnage in the street, but it is rare.