Like everything out here, petrol stations are different. Some consist of fuel decanted into old Coke bottles (at least you know you’re getting your full 2 litres) sold at the side of the road (the vast majority of vehicles are motos and tuk-tuks; if you’ve a car, you’re wealthy, and a 4×4 means you’re rich (and maybe a little pretentious)). And this little contraption:
Joined the locals on the ferry across the Mekong to Koh Trong island. Locals, and cargo and motos, and anything else that people wanted to take over. A guy was running up and down the quite considerable number of concrete steps, loading up the boat. We crowded on.
Only westerner, and again I didn’t feel at risk in any way, and only slightly out of place – when I stood up to get off the boat, I towered at least a full head above all of them, even the men. Many were dolled up wearing white shirts, visiting the Koh Trong temple as part of the festival.
Bike is the best way to get around. Literally around. So I took my trusty steed:
… and started round the circumference:
… and then I hit the dual carriageway:
.. and the B-road:
Congestion slowed me down in places:
And the C-road:
… which rather disconcertingly went through the bottom of someone’s house:
They didn’t seem to notice, let alone mind. That’s the way here. A bit like the slowing down of life when you go to Devon and Cornwall. Except here it’s even slower to start with, so it pretty much ground to a halt.
People live round the edge in the now very-familiar wooden houses, with their cattle on the shore side. Inland is agriculture:
And a Vietnamese floating village is tucked on the other side:
Slowing down to let pedestrians cross:
And back to the ferry terminal where I was eventually joined by others waiting for the boat:
My slow day continued with a walk around the market. And I loved this tuk-tuk driver’s ingenious solution for reflectors:
Then a tuk-tuk ride back to the hotel, just as the sun was setting:
