The minibus’ doors fold open to reveal the central plaza of the Cambodian river town Kampot. Obscuring any further inspection of the locale, however, is the throng of tuk-tuk drivers. Darkly sunned men ranging in age from high teens to low fifties cram the bus’ side. Their hands reach in, waving for attention. Their voices carry further, shouting “Taxi!” “Hotel!” and other similar buzzwords. The words tumble over each other just like their bodies. Some faces wear smiles, others don’t bother.
One by one the dozen travelers from Phnom Penh step down and the horde shuffles out of their way. For each backpacker there are two or three drivers, each one falling over themselves to grab a newly arrived traveler’s bag from the front of the van and haul it into his cab. As though this automatically earns the fare.
“Get off! Let go!” Matt writhes as a pair of men try to slip the straps of his backpack off of his shoulders.