How I spent my vacation
Last December was a holiday from Thai class. Hopped on my bike for a tour of ancient Khmer ruins in Cambodia just across the border.
This is my travelling companion, Trusty Trek, admiring The Mekong River. He’s very fond of The Mekong. So am I. It’s a fine river.
Left Chiang Mai on an overnight bus to Bangkok then caught another bus to Aranyaprathet, the Thai border town where I spent the night. I lived in this town some 30 years ago when I worked in a refugee camp in the area. I ride around the town but can’t orient myself at all. So much has changed. How much have I changed since I was last here?
Rode 6 kms. to the border the next day. This border is famous for scams and shakedowns but with my bike I was assigned to the traffic lane. The hustlers prey on the foot traffic. The Cambodian official who gave me my 30 day visa ( offical price 30$ ) did try to shake me down for a 200 Bhat / 6$ “service fee” but his heart really wasn’t in it. I just gave him a withering look and moved on.
Poipet is the town on the Cambodian side. Typical border town. Hotel next to restaurant, next to bar, next to whorehouse. There must be a factory in hell where they make these places. They all look the same. Trusty is a bit frisky. There are a lot of young pretty bikes hanging around with heavy paint jobs and tight mud guards. I can feel his tires inflating. Time to blow this burg.
65 kms. to Sisophon, the next big town. I’m on the main Cambodian highway so traffic is heavy but there is a wide, smooth bicycle lane. I meet my first cyclists, 2 young Cambodian guys. Of course we stop. Bicycle brotherhood. We have no common language so we smile and gesture. It is clear this is their first cross country trip. Their bikes are all wrong…skinny tires…drop bars… luggage packed in a painfully amateur way. They even have plastic bags hanging on their handlebars. But their eyes sparkle with adventure and coming of age. I see myself on my first bike trip a lifetime ago.
Reach Sisophon, find a hotel, shower, wash clothes and go out for dinner. Bad meal. Next day I decide to rest. 65 kms. is not a great distance but I’ve just started so am not in top shape yet. The first few days of a bike trip are always hard. Then you get your mojo and it’s clear sailing. I wander around the town, visit the market and climb to a temple on a hill to watch the sunset. I explore the food. None of the restaurants have English menus and I speak no Khmer. What to do? Point to what others are having. I wind up with 3 bad meals. Pollyanna that I am, I put it down to bad luck. Later on in the trip I realize I could have ordered anything and the result would have been the same. Ever wonder why you have never seen a Cambodian restaurant? Now you know!
Next day I’m on the bike after a revolting breakfast. I leave the main highway and head 70 kms.north to the first set of Khmer ruins. The purpose of this trip is to visit the main Khmer sites. There are 6 on my list alI built between 900 and 1100 AD. I visited Angkor Wat, the granddaddy of them all, on a previous trip. At that time most of Cambodia was quite dangerous. The remnants of the Khmer Rouge were still fighting in the areas I plan to visit this time. The trip I will make now would have been suicidial then.
An hour in and the wind picks up. It’s strong and right in my face. I drop gears but it’s still hard going.
Cam Cambodia where the wind comes sweeping down the plain
And the new mown rice can sure smell nice
But that headwind’s really just a pain.
Typical Cambodian road…flat, paved and deserted. A cyclist’s dream.
At 4:00 PM and about 20 kms. from my destination I pull into a gas station for a rest and a snack. I exit the shop and sitting at a table is a blonde haired, blue eyed, corn fed American girl. We both do a double take. She eyes my bike and asks me where I’ve come from. I tell her Sisophon and she says “so you’ve been cycling against that wind all day”. I know I’ve met my second cyclist. Only a cyclist would mention or even notice the wind and only a cyclist would know it would take most of a day to cover that distance against such a wind. Time for a chat. She is in the Peace Corps and stationed in a village 10 kms. away. She’s here to use the wifi. as there’s none in her village. We shoot bicycle breeze, talk about her Peace Corps work ( community health ) and her bike trips in Cambodia. But it’s getting late and I have to go. I don’t like to cycle in the dark.
12 kms. from the main site I see a sign pointing to a satellite ruin 5 kms. east on a dirt road. This is one I had planned to visit. Time to calculate. It’s late and I’m tired. If I see it now it will add 10 kms. to my day’s ride. If I continue to the main temple it will be 34 kms. round trip if I return tomorrow. I decide 10 tired is better than 34 fresh and turn east. The wind I’ve been fighting all day now blows on my left so it is no problem. I gear up and fly down the road. This was a military outpost. There are 3 towers. They sport bushy haircuts and lean drunkenly. The sun sets. Birds swoop in to roost. I am alone. The first site on this trip and it’s perfect.
It is dark when I arrive in the village…tired…hungry…no place to stay. Lonely Planet tells of an NGO that will arrange home stays. I head there. In five minutes I have a place to stay. They ask if I want something to eat. Another ten minutes I have a meal in front of me. I then follow a man on a motorcycle to his house where I spend the night. The room is basic. A bed, a fan and a mosquito net. That’s all there is. That’s all I need. The bathroom is down stairs….cold water only. I bathe and wash my clothes. I crawl into bed, tuck in the net and sleep deep. I wake early to the chanting of monks at the nearby temple.
betherethen 