“Wrong way!” Stephen, our driver, shouted at Pablo through the rolled-up window of his 4×4. We had jumped out of the car to take a ferry across the Mekong to the toothbrush-shaped island of Phu Thanh, and apparently Stephen was unimpressed with our door-closing technique. Heedless of the swarms of motorcycles flowing around the vehicle, he engaged the handbrake and got out himself to demonstrate the proper method.
Opening the door and quickly slamming it with exaggerated force, he pointed accusingly at Pablo. “Wrong way.”
Once more he pulled the door open, smiling as he gently closed it with a barely audible click. “Right way.”