I get around.

In this part of the world, getting from A to B is rarely as straightforward as it seems. The simple attempt to transport myself within Cambodia has included everything from being chauffeured by a tuk-tuk fit for a hero, to breaking the sound barrier in a death defying car journey, to lazy bicycling around remote river islands. The only rule seems to be: No matter what I've experienced before, there's just no way of ever knowing what I'm getting into, the next time I decide to journey outside my temporary home.

Our first major journey here was so shockingly smooth and comfortable, I was ready to vote Cambodian bus services among the best in SE Asia. Course, this was to be immediately followed by a patience testing experience, where the bus tickets we'd purchased bought us nothing more than an hour long wait at a roadside pitstop, as we watched the proprietor futilely attempt to wave down the unfazed buses that whizzed past. A world weathered man eventually pulled up in an even more weathered car, and a realization slowly crept in, that this was meant to be our best hope of getting into a vehicle anytime soon. Not without a healthy dose of hesitation, Dave and I clambered into the backseat... only to realize that there were no backs to the seats. The upholstery fabric still hung, limp and frayed, but all form and structure of what the fabric was supposed to cover had disappeared at some unknown time in the car's very distant past. Great, I thought, so much for being able to sit back and relax at all during this 5 hour journey. That was before we shut the doors, and the driving began. Relaxation turned out to be the last thing on our minds. Race track speeds around narrow turns and stomach flipping swerves through unpredictable traffic quickly sent me into a prone position, trying to calm the uprising tides in my gut. Meanwhile, Dave sat rigid and riveted, every muscle tensed to prepare for the seemingly inevitable collision. Thus we remained for the next 3 1/2 hours, when we arrived at our destination far ahead of schedule... far ahead of what should have been possible... unbelievably with all limbs still attached.

A few days later, it was to be a luxury tuk-tuk Batmobile that provided our motorized mobility. (Yes, everything about what you just read is right.) For the 4 days that we explored this regions most prized ancient structures--the Temples of Angkor-- we shuffled between each of those jaw-dropping marvels of lost civilization, in indisputable style. Zooming past the ragtag numbers of normal putt-putting tuk-tuks, we belted out the Batman theme, knowing it would quickly became a distant hum in their ears as they ate our superhero dust.

Da na Na na na na Na na na na Na na na na Na na na na.... BATMAN!!!

After such chest inflating panache, we dialed it down a notch, and hired wiggly wobbly old bicycles to explore the Mekong River island of Koh Paen. Just getting there was half the fun. Every year they rebuild the bridge, because every rainy season it would be washed away if they didn't deconstruct it first. The material of choice for the entire bridge? Bamboo.
From a distance, it looks more like a pile of matchsticks that a strong wind might disrupt. Yet, even cars can clamber across this temporarily constructed gangway of thin hollow rods. Indeed, up close and underpedal, it proved to be remarkably strong...and crunchy... and sorta like pedaling through sand. Once on the other side, our slowed down pace lent itself perfectly to the slowed down way of life that was on display everywhere. Not for the first time in this part of the world, I was struck by how lucky I felt to truly see and experience so much of these people's daily lives. Wandering around Europe, New Zealand, certainly America, and even Korea, one is always left to guess what a day might look like for any individual. The modern world likes its fences. And tinted windows. And doors closed tightly, with locks secured. The modern world considers privacy an assumed and desired right, instead of a privilege, or even an unsocial snub at the community around you. On Koh Paen, life is public and shared. Open windows and doors (if they existed at all), seemed to breed open smiles, and everywhere we pedaled those warm smiles greeted us.

So much constant motion sometimes deserves a break. And break we did. The first month in Phnom Penh, we boarded no buses, rented no bikes, and undertook no journey more adventurous than an average tuk tuk lift across town. Then, our sense of adventure returned. Though drivers in Phnom Penh defy logic, follow almost no rules, and collide on a regular basis... still we decided, 'What the hell? Let's get a motorbike!' As well as two helmets. (I mean, c'mon, a sense of adventure does not negate a sense of wanting to survive said adventure.) Harrowing is definitely a term I would apply to navigating these streets, and I never even navigated them! I quickly realized I would be much happier relying on Dave's very capable motorbiking skills, and intermittently clutching tightly to his waist as collisions were narrowly avoided. Unexpectedly, our motorbiking days were ended prematurely, though not because of the knuckle whitening traffic, but because of the anger inducing Phnom Penh police force. We were pulled over three times in two weeks. Our western skins made us blatant targets and apparently meant that it didn't matter whether we were actually following the rules that nobody else follows. Twice we were bullied into paying exorbitant bribes far beyond even the expected levels of corruption in this part of the world. Blood pumping, fists clenched, and voices barely controlling our pissed off frustrations, we thought it best to avoid another such instance. The next one might very well have broken our precariously controlled temper, and ended up with one or both of us rotting in a Cambodian prison!!

irony.

Getting around in Cambodia serves as a constant reminder that the journey is at least half of the adventure. In hindsight, all these experiences also provide another lesson for me: realizing again that my expectations so often serve only as a roadblock, leaving me blocked into a place of annoyance and frustration, while barricading me from moving into a place where I could simply relish in the pure experience of it all. Whatever doesn't kill me.............. right? :)

Well, now that you've made it to the end, it's time for another rousing game of NAME THAT FRUIT! The winner from my last blog was Shona Simon, who correctly identified the hairy red & green fruits as: Rambutan. They're similar to - but not to be confused with! - lychees, and they're quite delicious. This week I'm upping the challenge, and including two exotic Asian fruits. Can you name both of them?