Cambodia!

Phnom Penh pedestrians can safely be said
To fall in two classes--the quick,  and the dead.

It would be natural to think that the traffic in Phnom Penh, Cambodia's Capital, is chaotic, but it can also be seen as mankind's underlying commitment to social cohesion. Jay Hastings, my traveling companion, has been coming here for seven years and is used to it. As we rode in from the airport to the Ratanak Phnom Penh Hotel, and seeing it  for the first time, what was interesting to me was the genteel calm  in the storm of vehicles.

On an American freeway, thousands of people ride down three or four lanes of traffic at high speed and most manage to make it from embarkation to destination without a scratch. We think that's because they more or less honor the lanes and head in the same direction. Break those rules—or any rules laid out by the state for how to drive, and chances are great that some other driver will scream at you with his horn.

In Phnom Penh, a city of 1.5 million, I didn't see any lanes. There are very few traffic lights. Motorcyclists are inclined to cut across  traffic diagonally and  drive contrary to traffic. They don't stop at interesctions; they merely cautiously continue on through, avoiding eye contact with anyone they encounter at right angles. And they make it!  So far I haven't heard a horn blare; what I've heard are gentle little beeps that seem to convey the message, "oh, by the way, I'm over here, and I'm cutting in front of you, just so you'll know."

They are like pedestrians who happen to be attached to wheels. They seem so much more civilized – as if they have learned how to negotiate the river of traffic in a kinder, gentler way than we do.

As I rode in a tuk-tuk through the streets, I watched our driver do many a right-and-left-grand with cycles, pedestrians and on-coming vehicles, easing his way through a left-hand turn before a backed-up curent of cycles and autos. This maneuver relied on tacit signals that acknowledged other drivers--and their patience, or resignation or something. One school of fish passing past or through another while touching nary a fin.

A lady relaxes while her tuk-tuk tailgates a truck.

Forget all about signaling. With several lines of motorcycles heading toward the intersection, our driver eased left in front of them, and they all adjusted to the maneuver and made it through without even a raised eyebrow.

So civilized – and effective.

The Khmer—which is what most Cambodians are—seem to be a very warm people. When I commented to Jay about the toddler who stared at me from behind the motorcycle's handlebars and sitting on his father's lap, my just advised me to smile—they always smile back, he said.

On they came, all those Khmer negotiating the streets like  ants on a mission, reminiscent of Carl Sandburg's "Chicago" poem, in which he descrbibd the Windy City's people:

Bareheaded,
Shoveling,
 Wrecking,
Planning,
Building, breaking, rebuilding,
Under the smoke, dust all over his mouth, laughing with
     white teeth,
Under the terrible burden of destiny laughing as a young
     man laughs...
Bragging and laughing that under his wrist is the pulse.
     and under his ribs the heart of the people....

Think of a motorcycle as just a small pickup.

It's easy to recognize the limits facing the people of one of Asia's poorest countries.I got a glimpse of that when I tried to use the wi-fi at the Ratanak Hotel. While I could log on, it wouldn't connect me with the Internet, so I had to wait most of a day to get reconnected. How backward!

Of course, in the Boeing 747 to Tokyo, the channel changer in my seat's armrest stopped working, so I didn't get to watch the end of The Book Thief on the screen in the headrest of the seat in front of me. And then on the leg from Tokyo to Bangkok, the sound was so low in the earbuds that I couldn't hear the movie dialog above the jet noise. So I still didn't get to see the end of The Book Thief.

In the Tokyo Delta Sky Club lounge, it took 45 minutes to log out of my e-mail account because of the configuration of the Apple computer application I was using. Every time I shut down the computer and rebooted it, the browsing window would display my Google e-mail accounts for the next Delta Airlines customer to tap into. I finally figured out how to log off with just minutes to spare for my connecting flight to Bangkok.

So which is more backward—not being able to log onto the Internet, or not  being able to log off? And which is more civilized and intelligent, racing like Indi 500 drivers or swimming the roadways like the fishes?

Love,
Robert
Author’s note: This blog is produced independently of Sustainable Communities International. Observations, opinions, errors and omissions are solely the responsibility of the writer.