Seria is a surreal place. Once open swampland, it is now dominated by level fields full of lawn-mowing tractors, egrets and nodding donkeys – small land-based oil wells that nod back and forth as they pump oil to the surface. There is no real centre of town to speak of; row upon row of neat bungalows line the roads – home, presumably to Chinese and expat oil workers, whose wives ride about town in land cruisers. It is a strange, functional place with an odd mix of inhabitants that includes indigenous tribespeople and a garrison of Gurkhas.
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