Cambodia

5000mile mark, woopa!

Leaving Bangkok

Having spent a week in Bangkok attempting to gain visas for my onwards travels, I boarded my bicycle once again and pedalled my way down the east coast of Thailand towards Chanthaburri before heading north into Cambodia. 

From Thailand into Cambodia

Something that particularly fascinates me when pedalling my way across a border is the immediate change in your surroundings. Aside from the change in language, currency and side of the road to cycle on, there is a noticeable change in feel. And the stark contrast between two places, separated only by a handful of officials, a couple of partitions and a man with a stamp, all seems so much more apparent when you cross that national line by bicycle. When we take a flight, or even a land vehicle abroad for holiday, travel, business etc we undoubtedly expect a cultural change at the other end, a way of life alien from ours at home. But that travel time often acts as a buffer, allowing us time to adjust and prepare for life ‘on the other side’. Furthermore, by this stage, everything about our usual routine life has probably altered; From the moment you finished work early on friday night, to that obscenely early alarm call, to that overpriced airport breakfast…everything is already out of sync with regular daily life. A cultural change is just one more on the list. However, when you cycle across a border line at a steady, sedate pace, winding your way around the vehicle barrier, respectfully nodding your head to the border police before pedalling off into a new country, all that has differed is the life and environment around you. It really makes you appreciate the reality of how much effect people have on a place, for essentially i’m on that same stretch of land I was several minutes earlier, only this side feels a world apart. 

Cycling from Thailand into Cambodia was exactly this. Having left the palm fringed beaches of Thailand’s south coast before riding up across the beautiful Tuscan looking hills of Thailand’s eastern interior, one border line later, I found myself in the depths of a very rustic Cambodia. I felt like I had stepped back in time to a pre industrialised age. The roads were quiet, frequented only by the odd moped, truck or basic farming vehicle- complete with several passenger splayed across sacks of hay.The landscape was dominated by agriculture- a picture of men ploughing fields, women chopping up crops , children playing in muddy streams. The houses were small wooden shacks. Cambodia was clearly a poor country, far less developed than anywhere I had previously passed through on my trip. 

Cambodia

Unsurprisingly, my first hours spent cycling into Cambodia were a little unnerving. My knowledge of the country was limited to that of the Khymer rouge and its ruthless power. Its dark, decadent past was never far from my thoughts. I had just entered a country characterised by mass graves, land mines, poverty, war and corruption and here I was alone, on a bicycle. Whereas Thailand and Malaysia had offered me a warm, bustling south east Asia with western style minimarts in every town, relatively good roads and a relatively stable environment, Cambodia felt quite different. 

But any uneasiness I might have felt was short lived, for Cambodia is certainly my favourite country so far. There are days when Im riding my bicycle and I literally cant stop smiling because I think life is so utterly brilliant. I go to bed excited about tomorrow. I find myself googling sunrise because Im so keen to get out and explore. Cambodia dealt me plenty of these days.  In fact, a good measure of how fascinated I am by a place is the quantity of photos I take and in Cambodia I could hardly put the camera away, eagerly trying to capture every moment. I felt like a small puppy let out for the first time, mesmerised by the activity around me. The miles would tumble by without a second glance. Cambodia has this rustic charm to it like no other and perhaps its the fact it hasn't succumbed to the western ways of its developing neighbours that adds to its character.

And despite the ‘poverty’ (in the monetary sense of the word), the people appear so content- you sense this easy-going, social, relaxed pace of life- always with a smile. When the work is done, much time is spent enjoying lazy afternoons lying in hammocks, spending quality time with their families.  Though it might seem a basic, primitive way of life, as far as I’m aware it seems a happy one and it certainly makes you question our approach to living in the western world; desperately craving that high powered career, that six figure salary, that final spot on the highly competitive grad recruitment scheme and no doubt a lot of stress, anxiety and lack of free time to follow…As much as we might look at a less developed nations such as Cambodia with an element of sympathy, I honestly don’t know how many Cambodians would wish to trade in their lives for ours. 

My route through Cambodia

Starting from the remote border town of Pailin, I cycled north before passing by the busy tourist hub of Siem Reap, just short of the world famous Angkor Wat temples. Following this, I intended to head east through the middle of the country towards the Mekong River. Had I taken this route, my stay in Cambodia would have been brief, too brief, I would have made it into Laos in under a week. But, as luck would have it, I took a wrong turn. Indeed, it turns out the there’s a mountain in the far north of the country under the same name as the city I was initially aiming for. I took the turn, half knowing this wasn't the direction I was after, but then again, Cambodia is a developing country, infrastructure is constantly being updated and road maps not always at the same pace. Thus, off I went. 3 days later, the full northern loop of Cambodia complete and I finally made it that initial town I was after….! I have no regrets though because cycling up through the Kulen national park and along the heavy escarpment separating Thailand and Cambodia was an absolute treat. 

Once i had reached the Mekong river, I then pedalled north before cycling into   neighbouring Laos. 

The roads

Whereas in Thailand, cycling down dirt roads became more of an adventurous alternative, in Cambodia this wasn't the case for rubbly dirt tracks are the norm. Particularly, in the less developed northern region of the country, there are only a handful of paved roads, mostly connecting the key cities, the rest remain orange dusty trails, or worse, they’re in the development stages which means they’re little more than a gravelly, sooty, bumpy grey mess- Every time a truck passes you, you’re immediately engulfed in thick plumes of grey dust. Indeed, I certainly feel like I have lived and ‘breathed’ Cambodia! 

Christmas day

Christmas day was a tough day. No, not because someone at home was eating my share of the Turkey, nor because I was pining for quality christmas time with my family. Lying in hammocks perhaps. No, because I had found myself on a 40mile long track ankle deep in sand. I started the day feeling positive, I’d decided to embark on a relatively short commute to the next town along. A mornings ride. A late breakfast upon arrival perhaps? How wrong I was. I had studied the map the night before. There were two roads leading to this town, one was unnecessarily (in my opinion) long and would involve me back tracking several miles, the other albeit barely visible on the map, it looked direct. Half knowing the other road with its arrogant road number was likely to be in far better condition and probably an all round better option, I do tend to have this habit of favouring the exciting, ‘unknown’ alternatives. Perhaps a fear of boredom trumps that of rationality on occasion. Thus, armed with my trip motto- ‘I think it’ll be alright’- coined on the tough days in outback Australia, off I went. 

Mile 1- The road started rubbly, this was nothing new, they always do. 

Mile 5- The track narrowed with the condition of which deteriorating quite considerably-If i was initially dealing with the odd pothole, I was now navigating my way around giant land crevices. 

Mile 10- Sand. In short, the combined contents of Bondi Beach and the Sahara Desert lay before me on a track no wider than about 3ft. 

Mile 22- I finally make it to a secluded rural community in the midst of nowhere. They were about as surprised as to see me as I was them and I soon became the village entertainment; that being me slurping down orange juice. As I sat with them, attempting to converse, they looked confused by both my method of transport and my route, probably full well knowing that there was a pretty decent road several miles parallel to where I was. A few even made the sound of a moped, looking for a reason as to why I was pedalling? In sand? The ‘cultural difference’ couldn't even apply in this situation- no nationality voluntarily opts to pedal in sand. The physics- it just doesn’t add up. At this stage, I have to admit, as I stood there in the midday sun, sweat dripping from my entire body, a face full of orange sand, attempting to draw up an explanation for my current activity, it was hard to put across that ‘I’m living the dream’- because it has to be said, it didn't look immediately obvious.

Mile 45- Several hours later, several miles spent wading my bicycle through sand listening to the likes of Kirsty Young on Desert Island Discs (it felt appropriate), I finally made it to the paved road. A few hundred metres short I could see the speeding traffic in the distance with its shiny, grey gravel. I cant quite put into word that feeling of euphoria. It felt like Christmas and come to think of it, it was.

The muffin

It goes without saying that breakfast is important part of anyones days, its the kickstart we need, the difference between a useful and a useless human being and when daily life involves pedalling for 7 hours, that morning meal becomes all the more important. As I pass from one country to the next, unsurprisingly that morning meal changes. All I really want is muesli. I love muesli. But South East Asia doesn’t do muesli, thus one must constantly adapt. Little did I know what Cambodia had in store for me though; A muffin like no other- a golden nugget off goodness hidden in the depths of mundane breakfast rice and veg. I had essentially come across rocket fuel in the form of a baked good. 1 muffin down and I was flying down that road (#TheHumbleCycleTourer). In fact I was becoming heavily reliant on the morning muffin, to the stage at which upon entering a town, I found myself on high alert hunting down the muffin for tomorrows breakfast. I needed the muffin. Or did I need a muffin support group? Its unclear, since arriving in Laos I’v been forced to go cold Turkey on the muffin and life hasn't quite been the same since. I’d considered harnessing a batch onto to that back of my bicycle to carry me through my onward travels but the idea of declaring the muffin to the border officials at customs had me decide otherwise…. 

The Angkor Wat temples and the ticket 

When one travels to Cambodia, a trip to the bustling tourist hub of Siem Reap, the gateway to the Angkor Wat temples is almost certainly on the cards and its unsurprising once you see this magnificent sight- they really are an architectural masterpiece. Naturally though, whenever you hit the tourist trail, inevitably there are usually a few entrance fees to part with- not easy for the budget cycle tourer, particularly when my days spent riding a bicycle offer me more than enough free sights to feed my visual appetite. Nonetheless, I couldn't pass up the chance to see these temples, after all they were a ‘must see’; So there I was standing in line for my ticket, to be honest I didn't know which line to be standing in, so, being British I naturally found myself gravitating towards the longest one- we love to queue and a long queue must only be a good thing. After a long (but pleasant) wait, I had finally made it to the front. I had the correct change ready, one simple transaction and the ticket would me mine. At least thats what I thought until I acknowledged the small camera sitting on the upper left hand side of the ticket booth- aha, I knew exactly what was coming- I was going to walk away from this transaction with a ticket displaying my face, and as expected, the lady politely asked me to look into the lense of camera. Now there are some things in life that feel unnatural, however cool and casual we try and act, there are some situations that never seem to get any easier- being asked to look into a small camera, with 95 queuing onlookers judging you and your chosen snapshot expression, is one of them. Firstly, do we smile? I mean, in short its being used as a security measure, somehow smiling feels a little ‘lighthearted’ for the occasion, but if we don’t smile we come across as overly severe and I’m not sure I want my identity to be associated with that of aggression. And then, once you feel you’ve nailed the ‘happy eyes, but sensible straight faced’ facial expression, you’re then dealt another socially awkward hurdle; How long do we maintain this facial expression? How long am I required to continue staring into the lense? After all, no one has prompted me to return back to facial normality? For all you know, they took the photo on the third second and now you’re just completely creeping out the poor soul on the other end of the camera with your ‘mustn’t blink, but must look bright eyed, but must maintain professionalism’ stare. #FirstWorldProblems

Laos

So having journeyed through Cambodia, I am now mid way through Laos, where I will continue to follow the Mekong river up into Laos’ hilly north. Yet again, South East Asia has spoilt me, for what Laos lacks in curiously high energy baked goods, it certainly makes up for in scenery. 

The Malay peninsula (Part 2)

Thailand

Cycling through Thailand has been everything I hoped for and more. Our route took us right up the east coast of the peninsula, making sure to pass through the dramatic sights of the Khao Sam Roi Yot national park along the way. Limestone cliffs, sleepy hillside villages, paddy fields, rustic towns, tropical coastlines, exquisite temples- Thailand has is all!  Unlike Malaysia, we were fortunate enough to rarely have to ride busy roads. We took routes where traffic was light and beauty abundant. We regularly found ourselves on non sealed roads. On a map these routes look rideable, they look pretty direct, a ‘short-cut’ perhaps? Never. Though thats half the fun of it, keeping that adventure alive- the beauty of cycle touring is that pretty much anywhere is accessible if you want it to be. In fact some of my mornings rides along these dusty dirt tracks were some of my favourite to date. As I made my way down these rocky, rubbly roads, I’d often think to myself ‘sometimes all you need in life is a couple of wheels and a thirst for adventure’…. and an hour down the track i’d think to myself ‘Sometimes all you need in life is a couple of wheels, a thirst for adventure, a front and rear wheel suspension, two durable tires, a rattle free rack, a plumper backside and a keen interest in the relationship between tires, rocks and vibrational activity…!’

From Malaysia into Thailand 

Upon crossing the border from Malaysia into Thailand there was a noticeable change in attitude, religion and social etiquette. Traditional islamic dress thick throughout Malaysia faded into a more liberal existence. Mosques accompanied by their daily islamic call to prayer slowly disappeared, instead making way for buddhist temples- these rich architectural works of art littered amongst dense jungles of palms. The sporadic heavy rain showers and nightly thunderstorms we experienced in Malaysia typical of this time of year also became less frequent.

Thailand also dealt us more linguistic battles than Malaysia, with English far less widely spoken. Simple requests for directions to accommodation often led to moped riders escorting us to places after we had tirelessly tried and failed to understand their routes. 

On one particular occasion, having made it into the town of Chumphon fairly late on, we were keen to find a bed for the night. This involved the routinely nightly exercise of trawling the streets until you stumble across something which you think resembles a hotel. However, having wandered the roads for some time achieving very little, we were both becoming tired and frustrated. Things were looking bleak. But then, as if from no-where, I saw something glowing in the distance, someone glowing, a vision of high-vis, a God like figure (at least in my eyes), a man with authority, a man with power, king of the road. It was indeed a traffic controller. Right there, standing before me was, well, family, one of my wolf pack. This was the man to guide us in the right direction, I just knew it. Immediately I made a beeline for him. Perhaps he couldn't speak English? Not a problem. One thing we could speak, was the universal language of ‘lollipop’- Controllers the name, signals are our game. He asked me to stop, I told him to slow, one thing led to another and before long we had drawn together some suitable directions. All through the medium of signal. 

Dogs

One thing that continued to overshadow our commutes through Thailand were the terrifying prospect of chasing dogs.Thailand’s back roads are full of them. So often we would look at that alluring tarmac ahead of us fringed with palms, a hazy sun rise streaming through, the roadside lined with typically tantalising Thai architecture, before turning our attention to the battlefield of canines standing before us. The dogs were out. ‘Ohhh whoooo let the dogs out, who who who who who’ is what I'd regularly ask myself. Following this, there was really only one thing for it, pedal pedal pedal, grunt, growl, woof (Its important to speak their language) and hope for the best. So far, so good. All limbs still in tact. 

The ‘finish line’

Our final days up the Malay peninsula were tough, we had seen so much along the way but also endured some serious miles. We averaged a little over 90miles a day allowing ourselves just the one day off. And typically, our final days towards Bangkok dealt us hills, hills and a few more. Its all a little hazy now, but I'm pretty sure at one point we were belting out the sounds of ‘Jerusalem’ as we deliriously pedalled our weary bodies towards the ‘finish line’!

Cycling into Bangkok 

(Mum, I suggest you avert eyes, scroll down and continue reading at paragraph 7. Its important to sleep at night)

So often, cycling into cities can seem like a tiresome if not daunting prospect and so often it is. You really begin to appreciate the size of your vehicle, the small vulnerability of your trusty steed against the streams of heavy hard shelled traffic around you. But at the same time, I regularly feel this excitement when making my way into a city, particularly an Asian one like Bangkok. The hustle and bustle of it all - motorbikes, vespa's, buses, carts, animals, cyclists, street vendors- you’re immersed in so much activity and as you pedal your way alongside the troops of Vespa's, speeding through the lines of traffic, you can’t help but feel one of the gang. When it comes to traffic in Thailand, 2 wheels is without doubt the new 4 and riding into Bangkok, I felt right there at the heart of it. 

Bangkok

So, having completed the incredible journey up the Malay peninsula from Singapore to Bangkok, Harriet and I have now parted ways as she she now returns to the arctic temperatures of our British winter whilst I spend a week in Bangkok preparing for the next leg of my journey. Over the next 6 weeks I look to explore the sights of Cambodia, Laos and Vietnam by bicycle. Having had a small two week ‘taste’ of South East Asia, I can safely say the entree was just delicious and I can hardly wait to indulge on the rest of this asian feast! #ButNothingTooSpicy

  

The Malay Peninsula (Part 1)

The Malay Peninsula

Singapore, Malaysia, Thailand, 1300miles, 16 days. 

                       

On the 20th November, Harriet and I spent a long morning pedalling our way through the dense, urban extravaganza of Singapore and onwards towards the Malaysian border. 

I knew Singapore was unlikely to compare to any of its neighbouring countries in so many ways, but from the moment I received that Malaysian stamp of approval on my passport page, the change was almost immediate. This was more than just a stamp of legal recognition, this was a stamp marking my entry to the craziest party in town. In student terms, I had left the swanky, sophisticated bars of Singapore and just entered the downtown disco tech of Malaysia, ‘Cotton eyed Joe’ blaring out the speakers. A party filled with light, vibrant colour, a buffet of exquisite flavours, smiling locals, laughing children, palm trees in every corner, waiters whizzing round on mopeds and sporadic downpours of confetti. This was the Asia I had anticipated. No, it was better. 

My first afternoon cycling the roads of Malaysia, I could barely take the smile of my face. I couldn't help but drink up this new found pace of living. I was immediately engulfed in life. The regimented, corporate ways of Singapore were a far cry from the lively, carefree way of life here. A state of living which is so rarely captured in the western world these days. Upon Harriet and I warily making our way up somewhat of a busy highway away from the border, we hastily asked someone if this was ‘allowed’, whether it was legal to ride a bicycle on such a busy main road? To which the nonchalant gentleman amusingly replied “you’re in Malaysia now, of course you can!”. Words that rang in my ears throughout my stay in the country.

 

Malaysian route

Over the following week, we cycled our way up the west coast of country, passing through the old town of Malacca, stopping by Penang Island before heading over to the tropical island of Langkawi for a well deserved day off.  

We made our best efforts to map a route which allowed us to gain good ground whilst avoiding too many of the busy, tedious highways. We also made sure to incorporate the typical ‘tourist spots’ into our adventure too- yes, our daily dose of maps, hats and practical footwear was never far away! 

But, without doubt our favourite days were those spent exploring the sleepy back lanes far away from the main roads. Narrow roads, brightly coloured houses, little fishing bays, quiet ‘shack-like’ cafes, all against this constant sound track of supportive ‘hellos’ from kids, workman, parents and fisherman…..And when that quaint little road suddenly comes to an alarming halt on the banks of a river? And that ‘bridge’ you were referring to earlier didn’t actually make it past the ‘planning’ phase after all? Well fortunately a small fishing boat shows its bow before boarding your bikes and you onto its stern transporting us the short ride across the river to rejoin the road on the other side. Nothing beats life on a bike on days like these!

Having said this, not all of Malaysia offered such tranquil scenes. Sadly, vast areas of the natural vegetation have been stripped away to serve the palm oil industry offering us nothing more than dull, monotonous landscapes. Furthermore, upon entering the towns of Malaysia, so many dealt us charmless, characterless settlements- the majority felt thick with industry and a heavy smog to match. 

The cost of living

Having spent 18months living in Australia, I could barely wait to venture into a more reasonably priced environment and Malaysia didn't disappoint. This allowed us the comfort of staying in ‘hotels’ for our nights kip (although we soon realised theres a fine line between identifying a budget hotel and a brothel…) and we rarely spent over £1.50 on a meal. If we did, we’d almost simultaneously give one another this look of ‘well tonights a one off special, if we continue to spend so frivolously, we’ll be 50p down by next wednesday’

The food

Food is something that neither Malaysia or Thailand lack. Cycling for over a few km’s without passing a street stall was somewhat of a rarity. But I cant complain because the food has been truly wonderful…if not a little spicy for my uncultured taste buds. In fact, yes, often too spicy for my pathetic “only a spot of french mustard on the sunday roast” taste buds. 

Im not sure if its getting lost in translation, but my request for ‘not too many chilli’s’ seems to get received as ‘hot, hot, hot please. I’d like the culinary equivalent of the Spice Girls meets Red Hot Cilli Peppers mash-up gig in my mouth. Ideally I’d like that all sinus clearing, lips swelling, eyes watering experience, if thats not too much trouble?!’ 

A ‘cultural difference’

As a foreigner making their way through a new part of the world, you inevitably lack all the local knowledge, customs and skills to fully ‘fit in’ (however many pairs of ‘hippy’, ‘i’m at one with the earth’, ‘where soil sits, I survive’ trousers we might fashion) and in particular, us Brits especially have this real knack for being particularly awkward and useless when attempting to adopt foreign behaviours- its in our DNA. But over time I have come to realise that the ‘cultural difference’ can so often work in our favour. We can and should embrace the cultural difference where possible. 

For example, Harriet and I are unsurprisingly sporting some silly looking cycle tan lines. On the one hand, you could put this down to a limited wardrobe, lack of suncream and ever thinning Ozone layer or you could convincingly wear those stripes with pride and insist they’re simply the beautiful tribal markings from the native Shropshire clan, better known as ‘The Farmer Stripe’. No Thai would think otherwise. I have no doubt we’ll be in Thailand’s equivalent of ‘National Geographic’ in no time at all. 

If its broken, why fix it?

So not everything is working like clock work on this trip- over time, naturally things wear, things tear and things need replacing. Or do they? 

Im not sure how or why this trait has developed in so many of the human race, but we do have this tendency to adapt instead of making rational, sensible changes when necessary. Changes to improve situations.

Here’s an example; The remote control for your telly has been playing up, its becoming incredibly temperamental, slow, and inconsistent with its functionality. Its pretty clear what the problem is; the batteries need replacing. But no, instead of making a simple change, taking just a few minutes out of your day to re-boot this useful device, you’ll instead spend the following 6 months painfully squeezing the buttons so hard in the direction of the tv, trying from each and every angle with unhealthy levels of wrist rotation until the damn think beats one more heart beat out of its lifeless soul. 

Well, similarly, I think its probably time I invested in a new pair of cleats. ‘Cleats’ are a very handy device which allow you to clip your shoes onto the pedal making the whole task of pedalling all the more efficient. At present, mine are efficient, too efficient, so efficient that once I'm in, I'm never coming out- at this rate i’ll be home by Christmas. Whether they have become a little worn down, rusty, or weathered over time, I can't be sure, but the result is that upon stopping I have now found myself, on more that one occasion, in that panic situation, rapidly eyeing up a suitable ground surface to graciously unite myself with Malaysia’s hard stuff. Once horizontal, its just a case of easing myself out of the shoes still attached to the peddles, standing up in my socks, brushing the gravel off myself and hoping that the puzzled onlookers put it down to a ‘cultural difference’ (You can just see their thinking- “Ah, so thats how they disembark bicycles in England- how very extraordinary. Really quite remarkable”). Indeed, though I appear to have mastered the art of falling with style on a bike- this is definitely not an ‘adapt and continue’ situation- I value both my bicycle and my right arm.