A motorbike’s carrying power should never be underestimated. Minutes after touching down in Phnom Penh I was marvelling at the acrobatic precision of a young boy twisting and turning a giant truck fender through the pulsing traffic. A family of five whizzed through the streets on their ‘sedan’. One man, while talking on his mobile, sat taking notes in a book wedged between himself and the driver. Others were loaded up with colourful fruit, veggies and produce from the markets, bags hanging from every nook and cranny.
Zigzagging through the city, life was loud and unabated. But street 264, a quiet bougainvillea and Buddhist Watt lined haven, was my final port of call. After months of dreaming, planning and anticipation I was suddenly ‘Gemma from the Phnom Penh Post.’