I had an interview today with an organization whose administrative offices turned out to sit on the other side of town from its customer-facing establishment, so I had to ask a tuk-tuk driver to take me all the way from the Royal Palace area to several blocks south of Boeng Keng Kang. We missed the tiny logo and sign the first time we drove past it, so I arrived half an hour late.
For the return trip, I hailed another tuk-tuk driver who ran out of gas on Mao Tse Tung Boulevard. When he hopped off to push, I asked him if he wanted me to get off as well, and he said, “No, no, it’s just – ” and gestured to a gas station two blocks down the road. Then a guy driving a metal moto-truck heaped with bags of limes pulled up behind us and offered to push the tuk-tuk, his sandaled foot against the back of the metal carriage.
On the way to type up my notes, I stopped at the market to buy mangoes, and the woman offered me some kind of jelly wrapped in a leaf. It’s mango-yellow and glutinous, and it doesn’t taste like much.