🇰🇭 Leaving Siem Reap: A Day of Goodbyes, Rainstorms, and Unexpected Shelter

The Morning of Departure

Hello from Hiro, the cyclist riding around the world.

At last, the time had come to leave Siem Reap. Packing my heavy bags onto my bicycle, I felt the familiar mixture of excitement and unease. It had been a long time since I last carried this much weight into the unknown. But that is the nature of travel—you must keep moving forward, no matter what waits on the road.

Yesterday, I had already said my big, heartfelt goodbyes: “Thank you so much! I’ll come back again after I complete my world loop!” I thought that was the end. Yet here I was, stepping back into the café I loved. A little embarrassed, yes—but mostly happy to see the people I had grown close to one more time. Travel is full of such contradictions.

The Bittersweet Chain of Meetings and Farewells

As I drank my coffee, I thought about how travel is a chain of meetings and partings. Every new connection carries the weight of an eventual goodbye. That is what makes it so beautiful, and also so painful.

I realized just how much I had come to love this place. The feelings surprised me. And then, out of nowhere, an idea for a story—almost like a scene from a novel—fell into my mind as if it had poured down from the ceiling. The title, the scenario, the characters—they appeared all at once. I quickly grabbed my phone and typed it into my private LINE notes before it disappeared.

Travel has taught me the importance of capturing the moment. Humans think we will remember, but three minutes later we forget. We must not overestimate the memory of our imperfect selves.

Setting Off Hungry

After farewells, the real departure began. I rolled away from the city, only to realize I hadn’t eaten breakfast. Soon, I found a food stall and filled myself with rice and meat. The warmth of the food felt like fuel flowing straight into my muscles, preparing me for the long road ahead.

Dark clouds gathered in the distance, but I told myself: Enjoy it anyway. Rain is part of the journey.

A Simple Rest Stop

After three hours of cycling, I stopped at a small roadside restaurant. I ordered water and a Coke, enjoying the comfort of wooden benches under the shade.

The restroom was handmade—rough, but full of character. The owner told me they had built it themselves. That conversation made me think: sometimes it’s easier to leave such tasks to others and focus on your own priorities. Yet, when you do it yourself, you discover unexpected joys—like realizing, “I actually enjoy this kind of work.” Life constantly asks us to choose between efficiency and discovery.

Lunch was chicken and freshly caught fish. Behind the counter, I spotted something that looked like frog—and maybe even rat. At first glance, I remembered a meal I once had that looked similar. Street restaurants always surprise you with what they serve, and part of the fun is in that curiosity.

The Storm Arrives

After about 35 km of riding, the smell in the air confirmed my suspicion: rain was coming. Moments later, it poured down.

I rushed for shelter and found myself at a small barbershop. The barber’s name was Det. His pants were torn in the crotch, and he joked about it, making us both laugh. He was cheerful, warm, and to my surprise—exactly my age.

And then, he did something unexpected: he offered me a place to sleep.

Hospitality in a Barbershop

That night, I spread a mat on the stone floor of the shop. I was surprised at how comfortable it felt. Det, smiling, said he would be free until his work ended at 6 p.m., so he started teaching me Khmer.

The first phrase I learned well was “I love you.” Who knows? Maybe someday I’ll meet a Cambodian woman I want to say it to.

Later, I poured water from a bucket over my head—my improvised shower. After cycling dozens of kilometers, nothing feels better than washing off the sweat and dust.

Nightfall and Work in the Tent

When evening came, I thanked Det and his wife, then crawled into my tent to work on my laptop. Travel makes time feel limited. You never know when you will next find Wi-Fi, electricity, or the focus to sit down. If I don’t finish my work in that moment, it may be days before the chance comes again.

In a way, the road is my strictest teacher—it constantly reminds me to use my hours wisely, to build habits even in unstable conditions.

By 8 p.m., exhausted, I fell asleep.

A Visit from the Police

But at 10 p.m., I woke suddenly. A flashlight shone through the tent. Police officers had arrived.

At first, I thought this was the end of my night outdoors—that they would chase me away. Instead, they simply asked, “Do you have your belongings? Are you safe?” They had come not to punish me, but to make sure I was all right. Their kindness touched me.

Probably it was Det’s fault—he had kindly put a bright light above my tent, which made me impossible to miss. But thanks to him, and thanks to those officers, I ended the day with gratitude instead of fear.

What a day it had been: goodbyes, rain, shelter, laughter, and kindness. A full day in the life of a traveler.