Angkor, what? From the land of smiles to the land of sales

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Filled with an abundant breakfast, we checked of the old city hotel and set our sights on beginning cycling 2.5 hours east of Bangkok, in Khao Yai national park.



Picking up our bikes and truck with the family team of Dad, Mr Black, and two sons, Nutta (shortened to Nut) and Not, we merely made 2km when mechanical failures appeared. Swift work sorted them out after ten minutes, and waiting around I realised my camera was dead having been charged the day before I quickly sucked some life back into it from my tablet.



Standing behind a pillar and small plants at a road side stall, bent down, it seemed I had missed the eye of Nut, acting as the sweep, who was to remain at the rear. So I took off at good pace to try and catch the rest up, certain I was the last to go, and headed on the main roadway.



Waved through several military check points and turn offs which seemed to branch into forbidden land, it grew bushier, then 20 minutes later more urbanised until I saw signs for Bangkok at a major intersection. “18km cycling to start” Chai had said. Those magic words I was seeking to confirm.



First, a stall holder appeared on the left, and badgering him for confirmation I was headed rightly, he drew a blank stare, having read his newspaper. It was a slow day for mangos.



Then more agreeable responses from smiling locals confirmed I was completely lost. Thinking this was more an unsupported tour of Thailand’s main roads not back roads, I pulled out, luckily, my emergency contact for Chai. Accosting a family squatting on plastic stools by their mango juice stall, I gestured them to contact his phone. ‘I have a tourist with me’ they evidently said, to which Chai replied, ‘Yes, and who?’ not yet aware I was at that stage gone. Suffice to say my bike mechanic rescuers came half an hour later, hauled my bike on the truck, and to rendezvous approximately 20km from the group in the opposite direction. I did that Houdini well!



Warmed up by now 11:30am, fortified with fresh fruit and fluids, we went onwards from the top of a large dam, weaving down dirt roads, passing roadside gym equipment, until we met another stop at the biggest Hindu elephant icon in South East Asia. The majority of the population is Buddhist and the orange robed are frequently seen.



Onwards again to a lunch stop, it was nearing 38C and with little breeze were all feeling and looking like drenched rats with the tap left running. The humble rice and vegetable concoction won us over, but for my declining tummy status, I just managed to hold it together through local villages with heavily diluted coke, until we completely finished for the day, stomach complaining badly.



I had held good pace, yet rest was in order and medical advice freely discussed by the team, but for the final remedy of the night being offered by a Thai. ‘Herpes, for you’. Herpes? Never heard of medicine for stomach herpes, doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist though? Until we clarified pronunciation that some charcoal would be colouring everything black the next day. HERBALS! Not HERPES! Malaria tablets, water borne bacterial something, be damned, be gone! It’s my special day tomorrow.



And wake I did in about 60% of my normal vigour and tummy wellness, those in our team wondering if this was 60% me, worryingly, what is 100% me like. After rice and salt and a singsong Happy Birthday for breakfast, I took that as a compliment, and we steadily started what would be 92km of pedalling in gruelling heat, the hottest one in a while and day of distance milestone.



The first 20km eased by passing countless tapioca plantations and quiet sealed roads in a south easterly direction from Kabinburi, a typical large Thai town of two lane highway.



Breaking at a Buddhist temple, we continued another 10km, stopping again for water, then onwards 15km to our lunch stop. Now, breaching dusty hilltops and vast banana and tapioca plantations became our agenda and the vista constantly changed. Coasting down to lunch, we arrived totally drenched and with a modest appetite for fried noodles, eggs, pork or chicken. Standard fare, to complement our unquenchable thirst for iced water, sugar and salt, provided by our minivan driver Song qui.



Setting off now into the hottest part of the day at 2pm, I rode with Not most of the way, the young 26 year old scout whom like his larger brother Nut, converted an overweight body by 25+kg through cycling. We kept chatting and trying to urge each other on the remaining 40km.



After 15km, several gave up, boarded the truck and poured over iced buckets to lower their temperatures. Ice down the back or bra was welcomed with guesses for the amount imbibed in a day hovering at 6 to 8 litres minimum. I would not relent, and committed to staying on road, with Nut as a pace setter.



A further 10km brought us to another Buddhist temple, more photos and drinks and followed by a 13km into town, the hardest part of the day yet the quickest. Final count had us achieving 92km in 43 Celsius, champion level. But it would not be a cycle trip without a puncture, rolling into the outskirts of Sa Kaeo, and Not gallantly rode it ahead to ‘save flat tyre time’, whilst I rolled in on his very hard seated clip pedalled version, a smile on my face as wide as the ring of dirt and smell of perspiration encircling my body.



Making a tired, recovering and dirty body clean again before dinner was joyous, and to then be greeted with a decadent Thai feast and, surprisingly, a birthday cake on behalf of the cycling mechanic team and our traveller team, I was blessed. Neither deteriorating health of a fellow heat stroked cyclist, the black charcoal infused excrement, or my vivid dream of team doctor Steve careering out of control on a mountain trail materialised.



Come the next day we were all in a declared fit state for the next, gasp (for some), 82km, a snake greeting our first kilometre who was not so pleased about being run over.



Ping sida national park, part of Khao Yai Park and between Kabinburi and Aranyaprathet, is an area fringed by rainforest, palms and tropical foliage, with the ever present tapioca plantations covering the remaining scenery. Not and I headed out first and fastest, gaining a good, unintentionally, 20 to 25 minutes on the rest and hence first to the, again convenient, temple rest stop, squatter toilets and thereafter, Ta Kaba reservoir. I learned that Thailand’s highest mountain is 2400 metres approximately, as he Googled and we discussed NZ vs Thailand en route.



A haven of tea coloured loveliness of a ‘goldilocks’ temperature, we bathed in the lake with local children on holiday, held our mouths for the unknown risk, admired the surrounding rainforest and imbibed another litre or four of electrolyte laden water. Thankfully it was not up to 43C like the past day, and we did a short stretch off-road to our lunch stop, deeply rutted trails giving us a bone shaking ride for another predictable meal of fried rice and vege at a bird sanctuary. Not only ourselves ate, but too the local sand flies had there fix of foreign blood.



Leaving behind the captive birds and unhappy, caged psychotic bears, only a small clan of cyclists started the post-lunch leg through mainly eucalypt forest.



Pushing on another 15km, with truck driver Mr Black, aka Flash Harry at every turn taking our pictures, we steadily and incrementally heated up, cooled down to normal, and up again, until the ice baths and iceblocks from the local stalls came out to greet 8 hot bodies mid-afternoon. Heat stroke was our enemy and cubes down bras and shorts regulated us well.



The final section in peloton formation with the setting sun at our backs was a bonding end to the second exhausting day and given our smell and appearance were still, albeit reservedly, greeted at the Stalinist-like Aran Mermaid hotel come sun down. Our Thai team left, farewells, tips, NZ key rings and emails exchanged, and two new teams were to be endured over the coming days. Not even the instant street restaurant, a Thai street food vendor, selling rice and veges at a miserly 50 baht (about 2NZD) could upset our constitutions



Border day was a pretty standard affair as one can have in SE Asia. Streamlined by completing formalities the night before and Chai our helpful assistor in this process, it was painless and swift. My ‘old’ USD failed to be accepted on the Cambodian side, and we dispensed with our remaining baht before driving 2.5 hours to Siem Reap.



The country of smiles, Thailand, became the country of sales, Cambodia with the main road in, Kamikaze highway, only having been sealed in the past 10 years to manage the booming tourism here. Sadly, the negative effects have manifested in the form of a lot more visible rubbish than in Thailand and a highly commercial mood about the place.



Drowsy from an early lunch, where we chewed again the fat on family, mindfulness and the lack of Thai curries to date, we had a 2 hour break after check-in then headed out into the later afternoon for a streak around the Siem Reap fringe by bike number 2 of 3. Our slight Cambodian team and their orange van was ever present as we negotiated traffic that moves in an uncoordinated coordinated fashion. Stopping to admire the sunset, kids swung past us, entire families atop a small motorbike travelled at speed, bike crashes near averted, and a huge rooster was spotted chasing a rabbit in search of some cross pollination or whatever the animal equivalent is. As one said, that was one possessed and randy cock.



Night falls at the oasis, our home for three nights, cicadas singing to hum of mopeds and beside raggedy, rubbishy plastic everywhere on the streets.



Angkor Holiday Hotel. In the thick of it, aside my cheap organic coffee supplier, and betwixt the



laundry operator, fruit stall, jandal seller and money exchange, this place knows how to serve a



tourist. The key to a swimmers heart is a pool even if laps must be swum in semi-circular formation.







Lead again out for a meal by the ever smiling Chai, slightly pricier than Thailand, we all toasted the new surrounds with happy hour cocktails, and dishes of Cambodian excellence that put the theory to rest that only rice and vegetables could be served to foreigners with their delicate constitutions. We mused on underwater GoPro antics, how best to make a film un-X rated, the engrained social expectations we get constrained by, and whether the mechanical-turned-civil-engineer should stop next time and take that photo of reinforced concrete on the city fringe. Top bunch of people.







A tad under slept, the following day was dedicated to starting our 3 day tour of Angkor Wat and less pedalling than what we had grown to know. This place is a spectacular series of edifices over many kilometres in width and length that acted as places of worship and residence to the real and mythical folk of the Khmer ancestors. It is the largest religious complex in the world and has both Hindu and Buddhist origins







“Let me tell you somethings” we heard, again and again from our enthusiastic informant. Local guide Charii first, though, weaved us a path through the messy morning rush until we reached relative peace and straight forested roads. So began a day of wisdom and knowledge that 10 hours later may well have been lost to the increasing humidity and mercury.







Cycling 12km we reached Angkor Thom’s main complex, surrounded at the entrance by pop up stalls, young children enterprisingly selling magnets, fabrics and small goods, and a moderate amount of tourists. Being shoulder season does not deter anyone, and so crowds of international folk are the relative norm.







Barely escaping my bargain 12USD tablecloth purchase without 10 more, we meandered among the long dirt trail to the ‘Tomb raider’ movie set, as it is known, thick in jungle scenery that acts as a natural scaffold for the magnificent, old temple structure. Black and white shots befit the landscape of photos, and some Lara Croft moments were had, torn calf muscle not withstanding!







Missing the local guide’s lead by one minute and encircled by Japanese, I backed up to the meeting point and when we all returned it was on to the Bayon temple next, of Angkor Thom also. Highlighted by smiling female Buddha faces and a 60 to 65 metres high series of lotus shaped spires, our guide knew how to pose us against them with puckered lips and tongues out, indicating he may have tried this trick before, even if it was not historically relevant. Suffice, the edifice was in much need of a water blast







Moving right along, lunch came in the guise of cheap eats on the plastic chair restaurant, opposite the Angkor Wat entrance, a cacophony of local life strolling or pedalling by. Vermicelli and veges (aka the fresh spring rolls I had craved for the past week) hit the spot, followed by an extraordinary afternoon viewing the main Angkor Wat complex.







Vast and tall as was Angkor Thom, but Wat surpassed that in grandeur and architectural symmetry. I reached my physiological peak just as we ascended the 65m high platform and felt the need for urgent rehydration and a sit down. Heat stroke can be just a moment away when it is 40C, and I swore those heavy cycling days made it more or less bearable with a wind ‘chill’ factor that sightseeing in a large stone structure did not have. Enter the Coke and water combination, and I came right, 3 litres and several hours later, enough to join in another modest Cambodian ‘chippy’ restaurant for curry and rice.







But where the green curry is, or extensive vegetarian options, remain little seen, and we all retired satiated, dreaming of an elaborate SE Asian feast or, for two of the team, a $3USD ‘any extras?’ massage up the road. As Chai keeps saying, ‘Savai Savai’, meaning no problem, every little thing will eventually be alright’ in Thai.







And that is what I will meditate on being I have NO ACTUAL PASSPORT UNTIL PHNOM PHEN. Yes, I handed it over to the local embassy via Chai







Angkor, Phnom Phen and The Mekong to come!

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Photos

Tomb raider
check this out Angelina........