Queuing in the Old Quarter

Being first in line proved to be a great boon, once the sheer terror of being gently steered directly in the path of oncoming vehicles subsided. The ride through the teeming streets was nerve tingling. On all sides colour, smells and sounds bombarded the unsuspecting visitor. In time, you adjust to the rush and tumble of traffic and sensory overload gives way to sheer enjoyment. At first, it feels inevitable that the near misses will become hits, but the cyclo riders are far too skilled to allow a good tip to get away that easily and they steer through the packed intersections as if everyone will give way. They make very fine movements to avoid clashing metal on metal and flesh and ignore the blaring of horns. My man made his own commentary on the sights and when it looked as if we were finally to be brought down by an impetuous motorbike, made happy beeping noises by way of reassurance to his by now quaking passenger. By the time we reached the Water Puppet theatre, I had a real taste for more and would have cheerfully paid him to take me further.

Leave a Reply