The streets of Phnom Penh are choked with exhaust fumes and little blips of the horn. It's just after noon and the full force of the Phnom Penh's fleet of oversized Lexus's and undersized motorbikes are going about their business. It's not that there's too many vehicles but that there isn't enough a space. In the centre of the few open boulevards I stumbled upon the noise recedes and the air clears.
But on the majority of streets I can make out pieces of blippy-horn conversations:
"Hello, you're in the way."
"I don't think this red light applies to this exact model of Honda ditchripper. Make way!"
"Would you like a ride in my tuk-tuk, monsieur tourist?"
Traffic flows along without any trouble. Schools of ditchripper-remoras latch onto SUV-sharks and form slow moving blocks while some intrepid loners speed on ahead. At any point a vehicle can come jump into the flow at any angles. The school flows around the interloper and continues on. I haven't seen an accident yet. I'm happy; I imagine the carnage would be spectacular.
It's hot but not sunny. A storm is coming into town but storm sometimes just means spotty rain. Maybe the key to avoiding a downpour is wanting it to come. I had been looking forward to taking shelter from torrential rains in some Khmer cafe as soon as the guide book informed me that August is part of the rainy season. I haven't had any luck though.
Eventually night comes and takes away the heat. It hides the dirt and garbage lining the streets, allowing Phnom Penh to emerge under the glow of street lights and neon advertisements.
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