Southern Cambodia was a real treat. More good food, great coffee and fun times, but the show must go on so we saddled up the ponies and headed NE on the main highway toward Takeo, our first rest-stop en route to the amazing temples of the Angkor Wat Archeological Area. Up until now finding a place to stay with a shower and/or some decent food has been pretty easy. Planning the way north from Kampot gave us very few options so we had some big mileage days ahead of us. A wise wife once told me the best way to beat the heat is to avoid being in it. We attempted a pre-dawn departure to beat the heat but it's near impossible to get my butt out of bed when I'm so cumfy wumfy in a bamboo hut. Still, we were up and gone by 8-ish and it was already heating up. No worries about hydration here. As in Vietnam, there are roadside stalls everywhere selling anything from water to a hot lunch. Sometimes Leigh and I indulge in a fresh coconut, first for the sweet water, then once cracked open, for the soft fruit layer inside. It took all day to cover 99 long, hot kilometers, stopping regularly for food, fluids and rest. Next day was another 80 km into the country's capital Phnom Penh. It was here that we found the most interesting latté art we've ever seen, at Cambodian owned and operated Brown Coffee. We took the opportunity to stock up on some necessities and get a new phone as our trusty tablet finally tapped out. This phone – Samsungs Mega 2 is huge. I feel like I'm holding a full blown computer up to my head. I was delighted to come across a Giant Bicycle shop as the teeth of my middle chainring were worn down dull and my saddle was not exactly giving me that 'I just wanna keep on riding' feeling. They fixed me up right quick and proper.
The next few days were spent simply moving forward up highway 5 with trucks and buses zooming right by, either passing us or coming right at us passing oncoming traffic - crazy! There were the continual greetings from either side of the road; HELLO from way back in the rice fields, HELLO from the house behind the house, from kids, moms, teenagers and dads alike. Picture a weathered farmer on a dusty scooter slowly pulling up right beside us with such a look of curiosity to make me wonder if we have suddenly grown an extra head. Then we smile and say hello and he bursts out in a big grin, perhaps realizing that we're actually human, and continues on. Happens all the time. Although we are fully self-sufficient there will be no camping for us in Asia, due in part to the variety of scary if not lethal creepy crawly things roaming the tropical earth like the gargantuan beetle that walked over my foot in the middle of the night back at the Kepmandou Lounge. I know they eat leaves but I'll admit to being a bit of a delicate flower when it comes to bugs, big, black, all leggy... Our tour de gastronomie has gone from European luxury to Asian unpredictability. Adapting to new foods and the lack of many familiar items proved trying at times. Add in the warnings of dangerously poor water quality and it's a whole new world of culinary experiences, some good, others not so much. Our worst experience to this point had been a poor excuse for a lunch in a small French town that offered an all-you-can-eat mini buffet of cold patés and bread (how much paté can one eat?) followed by something remotely resembling pizza. Even the coffee was bad. Mon Dieu! But that was nothing compared to some of the food we've braved when desperately hungry after 5+ hours of riding. It was one of those 100 km days when just outside of Pursat we ate some roadside soup that ended up completely disagreeing with us. As we set out to finish the 30 km to our hotel my guts started turning and I had a hard time pedalling. In fact I didn't make it to the hotel before the inevitable and uncontrollable purge, roadside at a major intersection for everyone to see. Man down. Leigh thought she might have dodged a bullet but it caught up with her a few hours later. Woman down. At least we had a comfortable place to recover although we saw next to nothing outside our hotel room for 4 days.
Our extended stay in Pursat resulted in an adjustment to the original plan of travel through central Cambodia. With a 1-month visa and lots to see and do in and near Siem Reap we took a bus to recoup some lost time. This was one of the same tour buses that would blast the horn as it approached and passed us on our bikes. The horn-blast is a common occurrence in Cambodia, not intended as hostile but simply a courtesy to make sure you know a vehicle is coming up on you. But when it's practically beside your head as you brace for the associated gush of wind it can be interpreted as somewhat aggressive. It may even prompt an overture of curses. This attention-getter may seem overkill but the solid yellow lines running down the middle of the highway are treated more like airport runway guidelines to keep all wheels on the pavement as one reaches Mach 2. We have seen the occasional speed posting but I think it is taken as a minimum, and if a bus wants to pass a truck it expects the oncoming traffic to ride the shoulder, cyclists, scooters, cars and all.