We, the moto-driver and I, are looking for a silk village. We can’t find one, and although there are supposed to be dozens in the area, the locals don’t seem to know where one is either.
We do stumble on a cucumber pickling operation, however.
With every pork-and-rice breakfast in Cambodia comes a little dish of lightly pickled vegetables, so demand is huge.
Here it is being taken out of a brine by two very young children under the supervision of their Mother. (I presumed). The cucumbers are then laid in the sun to dry. How long is each part of the process and what happens next I don’t know.
For there aren’t any English speakers here, and I don’t know Khmer.