We Killed a Cow

Well, not intionally. And, it wasn't really our doing. Nevertheless, we were on a "VIP" bus high-tailing it through Cambodia, freewheelin' through the small thatched-house towns and weaving and bobbing around motorbikes and children. Domestic animals and farm animals. Honking our way down the Cambodian Highway of Life trying our best to alert everything alive to gain way or risk being victim of a 4 ton bus ruining your day.

Whooooooooooose, zip, wrrrrrrrrruuuuuuung!

We slip and slide around the hairpin turns with the honk of a horn in what would be considered the wrong lane back home. No lanes over here. No shoulders either. Too bad if you're a motorbike driver and our bus is passing another on a blind turn at 100km an hour and your coming the other way. Your off the road and better hope its not a ditch or a gully, a pile of trash or the remains of a burning bamboo roof.

Nearly flying, we driving with such force, through said town, on the third rotation of the same album, of what is seemingly the only band in Cambodia. Or the only band ANYONE listens too. We nearly avoid a naked baby prodding some roadkill with a stick, an omen of sorts?!, the driver lays into a honk before, during and after we pass the child to let him know of our arrival and departure. When immediately, we come SMACK, THUD, what was that?

Something large we just slammed into and ran over with our tires as the bus tilted ever so slightly to the left a few degrees. The busdrivers debated stopping, but eventually did, all the while all the passengers were rubbernecking for a view of the damage.

Was is a human or an animal!?! That was the wonder. Luckily, I guess you could say, it was a cow. And a rather proper sized cow at that. As it happened to be a Saturday, we were reassured by the locals that it was, "no problem," and that the cattlefeed would be a welcome feast for the small village.

That was our welcome ride into Cambodia and I meant to write about it ages ago, but just plain forgot. What a bizarre story and upon mentioning it to our travel buddy Dave from NY, who we always run into, he acedotes, "well, at least you weren't on my train in India where a guy laid his head down on the tracks and the train sliced it off and we had to stop for 2 hours, all get out and help the conductor find the head."