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Cambodia/Kâmpóng Saôm Round the world trip 2007
1-5-08
Back on the bike to see how I feel. We are off to explore a long island in the Mekong assessable only by a bamboo bridge. In the dry season, the bridge is rebuilt each year. Down the steep dirt trail onto the narrow single lane bamboo slits we go. It is soft, spongy, even mushy in places, making all kinds of clinking noises as we roll over. A strong side wind makes the trip a white knuckler for me, but we arrive to pay our 6,000R ($1.5US) toll and slide on up the sandy bank on the bamboo planks, very much like a woven blanket three layers deep. On the island, we cruise down dirt lanes through tunnels of trees. On both sides are houses or huts on stilts with blue shutters peeking out of the dense foilage. Children greet us with the usual “Hello, what is you name?” Women wash clothes and themselves out by their wells; men tend animals, work on bikes and just sit around and talk. Along the trail that criss-crosses the island, we come across Buddhist temples and Wats, beauty parlors, butchers, barbers, photographers, and tobacco drying barns made of bamboo slathered in mud. The surrounding fields are sprouting new planted tobacco and vegetables, green leaves waving in the breezes along the river banks. We are lost and stop to “wonder” the direction back to the bridge. Through much asking and signing, it is that way: up the dusty bumpy path; past the toll booth; across the bamboo; up the bank and down the road. Back to the Mekong Crossing Restaurant for lunch and discussion of directions, road conditions and places to stay with the owner, Joe (who hails from the great state of Pennsylvania, USA).
January 07 Cambodia/Chhlong Weltreise 2007 >
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January 03 Cambodia/Kampong Cham Weltreise 2007
Back on the bike to see how I feel. We are off to explore a long island in the Mekong assessable only by a bamboo bridge. In the dry season, the bridge is rebuilt each year. Down the steep dirt trail onto the narrow single lane bamboo slits we go. It is soft, spongy, even mushy in places, making all kinds of clinking noises as we roll over. A strong side wind makes the trip a white knuckler for me, but we arrive to pay our 6,000R ($1.5US) toll and slide on up the sandy bank on the bamboo planks, very much like a woven blanket three layers deep. On the island, we cruise down dirt lanes through tunnels of trees. On both sides are houses or huts on stilts with blue shutters peeking out of the dense foilage. Children greet us with the usual “Hello, what is you name?” Women wash clothes and themselves out by their wells; men tend animals, work on bikes and just sit around and talk. Along the trail that criss-crosses the island, we come across Buddhist temples and Wats, beauty parlors, butchers, barbers, photographers, and tobacco drying barns made of bamboo slathered in mud. The surrounding fields are sprouting new planted tobacco and vegetables, green leaves waving in the breezes along the river banks. We are lost and stop to “wonder” the direction back to the bridge. Through much asking and signing, it is that way: up the dusty bumpy path; past the toll booth; across the bamboo; up the bank and down the road. Back to the Mekong Crossing Restaurant for lunch and discussion of directions, road conditions and places to stay with the owner, Joe (who hails from the great state of Pennsylvania, USA).
