The orphanage is about four miles from our hotel.  It’s just too hot and too far to walk there and back twice a day.  Instead, we take a moto.  Motos are everywhere in Cambodia, filling the streets, parked in rows along the sidewalks, in a pack at the front of the line waiting for a green light.  Gas stations appear to have been invaded by the swift vehicles, and they materialize from surprising routes through alleys and sidewalks.  The moto taxis wait in clumps on street corners, waiting for passengers.  Some drive along the road, letting out a friendly honk as they pass you, just in case you need a ride.  “Beep.  Beep.”  Translation: moto coming up behind you, need a lift?  It never takes us long to find a lift.  The hard part is describing where we want to go.  (New Hope Orphanage isn’t exactly one of the top five tourist destinations in the city.)  Luckily the same drivers lay claim to the territory outside of our hotel, and we’ve been able to hire the same guy three times—nice considering the city is full of hundred of drivers.

It seems that even the average Cambodian driver has both the ingenuity and skill to load and transport an astonishing assortment and amount of items on a moto: pigs, a stack of foam-rubber mattresses, a family (the older kid stands in front of dad, who’s driving, mom sits on back holding the baby), lots of chickens (say 30 or 40), a small cow, enough Styrofoam boxes to fill a small bathroom from floor to ceiling, even wheel axels (tires attached).  And four times a day there’s a moto in Phnom Penh carrying two Shibatas clinging to the back of the driver. 

It’s pleasant to walk out of our hotel in the morning to the calls of, “Lady!  Moto?”  Our chariot awaits…