TravelEater

Phnom Penh has lots of traffic. Not Hanoi levels, but the streets are clogged with bicycles, tuktuks, mopeds, and the occasional car. There are no real rules - people drive mostly on the right (but not exclusively) and weave around each other. If a street should be two lanes of traffic, it is really four, with the curb "lane" going the opposite direction to the real lane beside it. Drivers honk their intentions, no signal lights. Intersections are a free-for-all - I haven't figured out how they figure out who's turn it is. Police watch from the shade, detached from the traffic mayhem playing out. The half day Saturday school session has let out and everywhere there are teenagers in uniform doubling and tripling younger kids on mopeds and bikes.

A police officer waves us down, but my driver ignores him. Another intersection and a police motorcycle appears. He plays chicken with my driver, stop-starting closer and closer. Then he stops so quickly we accidentally bump his rear tire. Not hard, but a bump all the same. Shouting ensues. I stare wide-eyed.

The police officer dismounts and steps in front of our bumper. More terse sentences, accompanied by frantic gesticulation by both parties. Then finally a word I understand. "Sorr-eeeee", whispers my driver, and we rocket into the mid-day traffic. I'm thrown back as the car strikes the police officer square-on. He rolls into the windshield, but slides off, landing on his feet.

Horn honking, tires squealing, palms sweating (mine, I assume the driver's too), we weave in and out of tuktuks, bikes and mopeds, not to mention all the school kids. The driver tries desperately to evade the pursuing police officer (who has remounted his motorcycle), and avoid hitting anything, or anyone. We lurch and screech furiously. I clutch the door white-knuckled, and uselessly squeeze my eyes shut at close calls. But I'm grinning with excitement. I'm ready to tackle anything Southeast Asia throws at me.