Brick buildings. Tall tiled buildings instead of stained concrete. Water buffalo in barns. Every vehicle (Jeep Cherokee, Mitsubishi SUV, brown VW, bus, and sky-blue Chinese truck) honks--at us and everything else.

Women driving rickshaws. A man and a woman each sweeping the street with a giant handmade broom, five feet wide, making clouds of dust all across the street and sidewalk.

Shop owners sitting in low bamboo chairs placed on the sidewalk near the street but facing their shop. Some sleep, some drink green tea.

Green Tea. Men in straw hats with mason jars, sometimes Nescafe jars, full of leafy green tea. The tea with stringy dark green leaves floating in it, gradually sinking, reminds me of seventh grade science experiments where we collected pond water to inspect protozoa under a microscope. Every hotel here gives us a thermos filled with hot green tea.

A card face down under my bike, the eight of clubs. Then other cards. Cards all over the sidewalk. Groups of four people intently playing card games, mahjong, Go, and another game I've never seen.

Spitting. Men and women spitting big hawkers starting with long, loud, grinding, major-league windups. They sound practiced. They sound like they're trying to eject their pancreases.

People dress as varied as they do in America. Women in Easter bonnet hats--wide, light-colored, with flowers. Women wearing dresses, short skirts, long skirts, shorts, t-shirts. Men in jeans, slacks, shorts, nice shirts, T-shirts, but no ties. Most people dress neatly.

Men dressed in slacks and pressed white shirts riding in the back of rickshaws, sitting like Captain Kirk--legs apart, leaning forward, forearms on thighs, hands together, looking intently ahead.

Small trucks with the engine sticking out in front, uncovered above two wheels. The truck is steered by pivoting the whole front end. Sort of like a long tall boat if the engine were on front.

Activity. Lots of activity.

Next: Crossing the border.

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