The reddish brown dirt road is on an embankment, the sides sloping steeply down to the river a few meters below. Both sides of the road are lined with houses sitting on tall stilts, their floor often a foot or two above the street, with wooden gangways up to the door. The houses are simple wooden things, often looking like they’ve been cobbled together randomly. Wooden, round bottom boats are drawn up on land or float lazily in the shallow waters at the banks. The space beneath the houses, in between the stilts, is cluttered with nets, fish traps and all manner of other things. The air is permeated with the smell of fish and gasoline, and the noises of people at work and children at play.