Stirring up the Froth

Once upon a time
A long time ago, the world was made of milk. The gods and the demons were fighting about who would get the elixir of life. They fought for a thousand years to no avail. Then they decided to work together and use a snake as a rope to stir up the milk to become froth. After another thousand years they stirred up a lot of milk froth and out of it the celestial dancers known as apsaras emerged smiling and dancing. They were all very pleased.

And then
Now, Cambodia is made of red dust. The poor working people and the corrupt leaders are fighting. They have been fighting for a long time. Working together has not been successful at all because the corrupt rich folks insist on driving around in their late model cars with no number plates. They are using the tuk-tuk drivers to stir up a lot of red dust and out of it one completely allergic hay-fever ridden westerner known as Greta has emerged sneezing and coughing. They are all very disappointed.

We have moved from our indulgent hotel, to a really lovely hotel. It is brand, spanking new and the manager did his training at the Sofitel. They are keen for business, so it is ridiculously cheap; for westerners that is.

Back to the late model cars without number plates
They belong to the corrupt government officials. They drive around and do what they like. This includes running people over, knocking people off their motor bikes, and plenty worse than that. When they knock someone off their bike they simply drive away. No stopping to check for a pulse here. This was told to me, then on the last day in Battambang, I was standing outside The Asia Hotel chatting to some Finnish tourists and it happened. Luckily, the injured person lived to keep his mouth shut about the tale. The thing to remember in this story is that whole families including tiny babies carried in slings travel on motor bikes. I hate to think what happens when they get knocked off.

I thought I was used to the sight of families on motor bikes until I saw a man riding a motor bike with one hand, his other hand wrapped around a tiny baby maybe 3 - 4 months old sitting in front of him. Watch out for the black late model cars I thought. But what choices does he have?