Bumps
Is “the road less traveled” still considered a road if it’s been turned inside out from rude tanks? What if it’s a 3-foot wide sand path balanced between rice fields? Robert Frost may say “sure.” Or, more likely, he’d say, “Silly girl, it was just a metaphor. Find some pavement before you hurt yourself!” 🙂
Dust, grit, and bugs imbedded in my hair at high speed have characterized the past couple days. Yesterday I joined a group heading up into Bokor National Park. “Our other truck broke,” they informed us as we were packed like pigs on a moto into a small pickup. Not so bad on pavement, but once we passed the park gates, there was no such thing. Bokor National Park used to be a ritzy getaway for the French and rich Cambodians. At the top were palaces, a casino, bank (where you could trade your land title for more gambling funds), and a place to tie up the elephants that brought you there. Unfortunately, the Khmer and Vietnamese troops also found it a great scenic spot to stage their war. Since then, the resident tigers and elephants have run far away, the buildings are just graffitied holes, and the road is marginally passable. But, tourists still hand out their dollars, even subjecting themselves to serious bruising, in order to see the view of the Gulf of Thailand from the top and to walk through the eery emptied palaces. Good thing my group was good-natured and we could alternate laughs with our groans as parts of our bodies were alternately lashed with overhanging branches and bounced into hard metal or neighbors’ bony points.
Today I decided to seek out personal space once again and rented another moto. Down to the ex-resort town of Kep, where once again war turned fancy into fallen. However, it’s still an incredibly pleasant place to be. Fresh seafood eaten on the water as you watch the women tug the crab cages up on shore. Little thatched huts with hammocks for lazing. Coconut trees and seaside vistas. Also an amazing sunset. Watching it turn pink, red, orange, purple is what hypnotized me into a timeless state then sent me alarmed on the road back to town. The dark wasn’t bad because I couldn’t see the holes. Or the pigs. It was the bugs that did me in. I was torn between speeding up to maximize dropping light and slowing down to lessen the sting from sex-legged bullets. In the end, I just wrapped my face with my head scarf and chalked it up to truly experiencing life in the land of moto travel.
Tomorrow, bye bye sleepy town. I head to Sihanoukville beach where I’ve heard the masses await!
Tags: Cambodia, Kampot
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