First of all, I brought my camera cable so i could upload pictures, but I didn't bring the cable for the camera I brought. So, no pics. Sorry. This story would have benefited from them. Imagine lots of mud. (Edit: I figured out the cable)
Yesterday was the first day of my ride. On paper, it didn't seem that challenging. 30 kms down the west side of the Mekong (rough dirt road), ferry over to the east side, 30 kms of rough dirt road, 20 kms of hard packed dirt road, and then 20 kms of pavement into Chhlong.
Well....
Mistake #1: I didn't eat before leaving Kampong Cham. I figured, "Eh, there'll be food along the way."Right. Because there always IS food along the way--in Brooklyn, Tampa, Delhi, Chiang Mai. In RURAL CAMBODIA, there is not necessarily food along the way. Apparently, rural Cambodians eat breakfast at home. Heathens. I became hungry and irrational, and didn't stop at a the first couple of restaurants. Öh, there's no empty tables."Öh, all the tables are empty, it must not be good."Ït's on the wrong side of the road." Ït's muddy."etc... I'm a dumbass sometimes.
I ate, I rode, I got sort of muddy. I yelled "hello!" to every single child I saw. And then, I arrived in Stung Trang, where I was to get the ferry across the Mekong.
Mistake #2: I didn't eat in Stung Trang, although the guide I was following suggested I do so. I sat in the ferry waiting area and drank some water, while the shopkeeper yelled at me (I think) because there was mud on my legs. (This happened every place I went. Eventually, I made sure i had enough water to clean the mud off my legs before I bought water).
Off the ferry, up the hill to the road, which was described as being "rough, lined with small Muslim villages."
At first, there was a single track through the mud, which made me nervous. Öh my," I thought. Ï have 60 kms to go, and that's going to take a long time if I'm riding on a single track through the mud." As my grandmother might have said (although she never did, to my knowledge) "Man plans, and God laughs." That single track through the sticky, deep mud disappeared. I got off my bike, and began to walk, the bike and I both sinking into the mud. This SUCKED. NO way to go but forward, though, so I crept along at 1.3 kms an hour (thanks, bike computer!) I stopped several times to pull mud out from under the fender. Throughout this, every single person I went past hollered, "hello!!" requiring me to holler "hello!!"back at them in a cheery voice. After a kilometer or so, it began to dry out and I began to ride again.
I only made it ten kms or so when I got pulled over by two women who ran adjoining snack stands. They were EXTREMELY upset with how dirty the bike and I were (through sign language and gestures--they had a lot to say to me, but I have no idea what they were saying, which is probably good). One handed me a bucked and made me go down to the Mekong and clean myself up (if I get giardia, we'll know why!)
I took the bags off my bike and began to rinse the bike off. This brought another round of screaming and gesturing, miming hosing. Next thing I knew, a boy got on my bike and rode off. The woman mimed that the bike was being hosed off. I sat down and had a Coke. Kids gradually began to wander over to stare at me. (The thumb sucker is buck naked--his friends kept shoving him out from behind the cooler and tried to get me to take pictures of him.)
After 45 minutes or so, I got a little nervous about the bike. I made the international gesture for "bicycle." Another woman pointed at my muddy shoes and yelled at me. She then gestured for me to get on the back of her scooter, and off we rode, three buildings down, where my bike was getting hosed off. Bags back, off I rode.
The rest of the ride was less eventful. There was no catastrophic mud. There was dirt and sun and a hundred thousand "hello!s", which became fairly annoying. Every time I stopped for a drink, a crowd of children gathered, and the women gestured at the mud and sweat and (presumably) talked about how disgusting I was. I stopped at a market for bananas, and developed an entourage. I believe one older woman was yelling at me because I don't dye my hair (she used the word "noir."
I was shattered by the time I made it to Chhlong (90 kms). I had hoped to find a really nice guesthouse, but I found a $5 windowless cell with a fan, a cold shower, and a fly-infested outdoor restaurant. I made a point of eating breakfast on my way out of town this morning.
This is definitely harder than I expected. First, I'm not physically in shape. Second, it's impossible to melt into the background in rural areas. People studied (and apparently commented on) every single thing I did, and that's pretty exhausting. This morning, I rode a dirt road along the Mekong, and a baby (18 months or so?) began crying when he saw me and turned his head away. I'm a monster, apparently.
Staying in my expensive ($40!) Kratie room for two nights, then up to Stung Treng. Going to do more tours on the bike, and maybe less travel. I don't think I'm going to be able to handle crazy hills and mountains with the weight I'm carrying. And anyway, that doesn't sound FUN.
OK, here's a picture of something pleasant, just so you don't think it's all mud and child-stalkers.
Yesterday was the first day of my ride. On paper, it didn't seem that challenging. 30 kms down the west side of the Mekong (rough dirt road), ferry over to the east side, 30 kms of rough dirt road, 20 kms of hard packed dirt road, and then 20 kms of pavement into Chhlong.
Well....
Mistake #1: I didn't eat before leaving Kampong Cham. I figured, "Eh, there'll be food along the way."Right. Because there always IS food along the way--in Brooklyn, Tampa, Delhi, Chiang Mai. In RURAL CAMBODIA, there is not necessarily food along the way. Apparently, rural Cambodians eat breakfast at home. Heathens. I became hungry and irrational, and didn't stop at a the first couple of restaurants. Öh, there's no empty tables."Öh, all the tables are empty, it must not be good."Ït's on the wrong side of the road." Ït's muddy."etc... I'm a dumbass sometimes.
I ate, I rode, I got sort of muddy. I yelled "hello!" to every single child I saw. And then, I arrived in Stung Trang, where I was to get the ferry across the Mekong.
Mistake #2: I didn't eat in Stung Trang, although the guide I was following suggested I do so. I sat in the ferry waiting area and drank some water, while the shopkeeper yelled at me (I think) because there was mud on my legs. (This happened every place I went. Eventually, I made sure i had enough water to clean the mud off my legs before I bought water).
Off the ferry, up the hill to the road, which was described as being "rough, lined with small Muslim villages."
At first, there was a single track through the mud, which made me nervous. Öh my," I thought. Ï have 60 kms to go, and that's going to take a long time if I'm riding on a single track through the mud." As my grandmother might have said (although she never did, to my knowledge) "Man plans, and God laughs." That single track through the sticky, deep mud disappeared. I got off my bike, and began to walk, the bike and I both sinking into the mud. This SUCKED. NO way to go but forward, though, so I crept along at 1.3 kms an hour (thanks, bike computer!) I stopped several times to pull mud out from under the fender. Throughout this, every single person I went past hollered, "hello!!" requiring me to holler "hello!!"back at them in a cheery voice. After a kilometer or so, it began to dry out and I began to ride again.
I only made it ten kms or so when I got pulled over by two women who ran adjoining snack stands. They were EXTREMELY upset with how dirty the bike and I were (through sign language and gestures--they had a lot to say to me, but I have no idea what they were saying, which is probably good). One handed me a bucked and made me go down to the Mekong and clean myself up (if I get giardia, we'll know why!)
I took the bags off my bike and began to rinse the bike off. This brought another round of screaming and gesturing, miming hosing. Next thing I knew, a boy got on my bike and rode off. The woman mimed that the bike was being hosed off. I sat down and had a Coke. Kids gradually began to wander over to stare at me. (The thumb sucker is buck naked--his friends kept shoving him out from behind the cooler and tried to get me to take pictures of him.)
After 45 minutes or so, I got a little nervous about the bike. I made the international gesture for "bicycle." Another woman pointed at my muddy shoes and yelled at me. She then gestured for me to get on the back of her scooter, and off we rode, three buildings down, where my bike was getting hosed off. Bags back, off I rode.
The rest of the ride was less eventful. There was no catastrophic mud. There was dirt and sun and a hundred thousand "hello!s", which became fairly annoying. Every time I stopped for a drink, a crowd of children gathered, and the women gestured at the mud and sweat and (presumably) talked about how disgusting I was. I stopped at a market for bananas, and developed an entourage. I believe one older woman was yelling at me because I don't dye my hair (she used the word "noir."
I was shattered by the time I made it to Chhlong (90 kms). I had hoped to find a really nice guesthouse, but I found a $5 windowless cell with a fan, a cold shower, and a fly-infested outdoor restaurant. I made a point of eating breakfast on my way out of town this morning.
This is definitely harder than I expected. First, I'm not physically in shape. Second, it's impossible to melt into the background in rural areas. People studied (and apparently commented on) every single thing I did, and that's pretty exhausting. This morning, I rode a dirt road along the Mekong, and a baby (18 months or so?) began crying when he saw me and turned his head away. I'm a monster, apparently.
Staying in my expensive ($40!) Kratie room for two nights, then up to Stung Treng. Going to do more tours on the bike, and maybe less travel. I don't think I'm going to be able to handle crazy hills and mountains with the weight I'm carrying. And anyway, that doesn't sound FUN.
OK, here's a picture of something pleasant, just so you don't think it's all mud and child-stalkers.
Wow! That sounds crazy! A lot of biking and on an empty stomach? I give you a lot of props for traveling through the mud. Must be nice to be a rock star and people point and want to approach you, although it must be tough to not understand what people are saying about you! Does your bike have it's own Facebook account!? Just Kiddin! Have a safe journey and I found this quote and wanted to share it with you.
ReplyDelete“Traveling is a brutality. It forces you to trust strangers and to lose sight of all that familiar comfort of home and friends. You are constantly off balance. Nothing is yours except the essential things – air, sleep, dreams, the sea, the sky – all things tending towards the eternal or what we imagine of it.” – Cesare Pavese
It sounds like you're adapting well, especially when things aren't going according to plan. As far as that child who was upset by you, I once heard a similar story about a white kid in rural Oklahoma who had the same reaction upon seeing a black person for the first time. I think seeing someone who just looks different from what you're used to can be scary for little kids. In a few years that kid will join the others in the fascinated hoard of foreigner-stalker children.
ReplyDelete