Bangkok2Saigon charity cycle challenge

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The 16-day, 1000km Bangkok to Saigon cycle challenge culminated on November 26 in a rather thrilling way: riding into the manic city streets of Saigon, where motorcycles number three million, and managing to hit one (well, the odds were high)! No one looks where they're going, but traffic weaves in some shambolic fashion and it seems to work.
On bicycles we had access to many parts of the three countries (Thailand, Cambodia and Vietnam) that we wouldn't have otherwise. The routes took us through tapioca fields and rice paddies, ethnic minority villages, past rivers, streams, hills and temples.
At times the roads got rough - one so tough it reduced me into a fit of tears: Imagine the dustiest, rockiest, bumpiest and most pot-holed road you can, stretch it to 80km, add a sun that beats down a harsh 35 degrees and take the seat off the bike (because that's how we all felt by the end of this ride). That's where I was on day six, with my dust mask on and my body vibrating so badly that my muscles were tender and ached like your worst bruise.
The scenery, however was well worth it. We saw giant water buffalos haul mounds of hay on wooden carts, local cyclists heading into town overloaded with cane baskets to sell, giant pigs, legs up, strapped to the back of motorcycles and trucks transporting what seemed to be a town's population of people with what could have been the entire contents of each of their houses across broken roads.
There was rice, baby shrimp (the same shrimp we ate in our fried rice), coconut shells, fly-infested fish and meat drying on the sides of roads where traffic and pedestrians fought for space, graves in the middle of rice paddies and fishermen casting nets off pontoons of disrepair.
We rode through shady villages, over bridges made of no more than a few fence palings banged together, through mud, through markets and through mayhem. We did it all!
Cambodia was a highlight. The poverty was desperately confronting. Families lived in squalor, even so close to the city where big, fat rich people reside. There were amputees - landmine victims, children, men and women begging everywhere. Children would carry their baby siblings and beg, hoping for sympathy dollars.
Since the Khmer Rouge wiped out almost half of the Cambodian poplulation more than 20 years ago, there seems to have been a baby boom, which explains the seemingly unbounded number of kids. There were some we never saw, only heard, singing out a string of ''hellos'' until their little lungs couldn't take it anymore. Some were scarily enthusiastic, screaming ''HELLO, HELLO, HELLO,'' shutting their eyes tight, their faces turning tomato red, their bodies stiffening and their arms thrown around until they were blurry to look at. Many yelled ''bye bye'' before we even got a hello (one less thing for me to reply, this suited me fine!)
Locals would touch our skin and enviously throw their eyes over our bikes. When we made a rest stop, entire village populations surfaced.
And aside from all this, I have learnt what it takes to be a cyclist, not to mention what it feels like to be a cyclist - sore bum, numb fingers, sore shoulders, etc. However, thankfully this evolved into tight buns and tough legs (if I do say so myself!!).
I tapped into a strength I never knew I had (thankyou spin classes!) and reckon I could cylce my way around the world.
Funny that. I next put my bum on a bike the day after tomorrow.
I'm in the Vietnamese highland town of Dalat. It's a cold 15-22 degrees here and if local garb is anything to go by, we could well be in the snow.
I'm travelling for the next few days with Aaron, a pommy bloke who also did the ride and we will cycle to the coastal town of Nha Trang. I'm praying for sun, because it's been two days of miserable rain.
Until my next adventure,
Lots of love,
Bec/Clarky xo

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