I walk the city streets one morning, looking for breakfast. Taxi and tuk-tuk drivers sit on every street corner, outside of every guest house, across from every restaurant, waiting. "Tuk-tuk lady? Where are you going? Want to see Angkor Wat? Floating Market? Maybe later?" I smile and politely decline, walking past one herd only to find a new one. Children ride bicycles to school. Monks walk the streets, using umbrellas to shield their skin from the sun, and collect alms from local shops and restaurants. Sugar cane is processed into syrup on street-side carts. Shop owners sweep the sidewalk. Fish massage parlors fill up massive tanks with water and "dead-skin-eating" fish, waiting for the first customer of the day. Locals slurp soup at the corner breakfast stand.
Poverty is everywhere. Land mine victims sit on doorsteps, missing a limb or two, and ask for money. Children offer beaded bracelets and wooden flutes in exchange for 1USD. A little boy grabs my hand and walks along side of me, "Please lady, may I have one dollar for school?" I smile and squeeze his hand, instead asking him what subject he enjoys. Although impoverished, the people are friendly and honest. Most will happily talk with you and share their story, even if you don't offer them coins or notes from your wallet.
