A Morning of Work and Gratitude
Good morning from the wide open fields. Today, I am determined to reach Siem Reap at last. I woke up early, earlier than usual, and stayed inside my tent to finish some work. On the road, I have learned that time is never guaranteed. Hours are taken by pedaling, by conversations, by unexpected events. Work must be done when the chance appears. It is a discipline that travel itself has taught me.
From the tent, I looked out at the open sky. The air was fresh, the horizon endless. I thought to myself: what a perfect office for a nomad.
The Driverās Kindness
Just as I was finishing, I heard a voice. It was the driver who had helped me yesterday. He was heading to his next stop and wanted to say goodbye. I am deeply thankful for himāfor his help, his company, and his quiet encouragement. I wished him happiness with his family as he drove away.
The morning sky glowed like a departure, warm and full of promise. It felt like the right moment to pack and begin again.
First Steps Toward Siem Reap
Soon after leaving, I noticed puddles on the road. It must have rained last night. The reflections on the wet ground felt like Southeast Asia itselfāalive, humid, and rich with color.
For breakfast, I bought something like a steamed bun, hot and filled with juicy meat. Just 3,000 riel, but it warmed my hands and stomach. Eating it was almost a challengeāthe hot broth inside threatened to spill with each bite.
Something else made me smile: I found myself bargaining naturally in Khmer. A few words, numbers, greetingsājust enough to connect. Even if clumsy, it is important to speak first. Otherwise, people may assume, āHe doesnāt know our language,ā and keep their distance. Communication is not only wordsāit is the willingness to step forward.
Muscles, Shirts, and Questions
As I rode, I felt the strength in my thighs, built by endless kilometers. At one stop, I asked a man about the design on his T-shirt. He laughedāhe had no idea either. Perhaps it was a sports team, perhaps not.
The world is full of small mysteries like this, things that make me curious and alive. Each unanswered question is an invitation to keep moving.
Frog on the Menu
For lunch, the long-awaited frog finally appeared. Yesterday, I had thought I was eating frog, only to learn it was rat. Today, it was indeed frogātender, like chicken. The stall served it with curry flavor, masking its natural taste, but it was delicious nonetheless.
The whole meal cost 13,000 riel, about 460 yen, and left me full. Yet one memory stood out: needing the toilet, finding no paper, and using nearby leaves instead. I laughed nervously, remembering warnings of dangerous plants like gympie-gympie. Luckily, the leaves were harmless, and it became just another funny story of the road.
A Fatherās Devotion
Outside the stall, a man was calling loudly to attract customers. He had once worked in tourism, but COVID had taken that away. Now, he helped his wifeās food stall. The way he spoke about her, the way he stood by her, it was clear how much he loved her. That love made the meal taste even warmer.
Arrival in Siem Reap
And finally, finallyā¦ I arrived in Siem Reap. The road behind me was long, but I had made it. Pride mixed with relief.
I went to the restaurant cafĆ©, Fresh Fruit Factory, introduced by a fellow Japanese traveler. It is run by a Japanese couple, both welcoming and full of warmth. We spoke for hoursāso easily that time disappeared. They served me French toast covered with fresh fruit, rich and sweet.
Cats roamed everywhere. At first, I thought five, but in truth there were twenty. For a cat lover, it was heaven. They even shared their homemade cashews with me. Their kindness overflowed at every moment.
Night in the City
As night fell, I walked through the lively streets. Pub Street was alive with people ready to lose themselves in music, drinks, and laughter.
āHumans have a need to go a little mad sometimes,ā someone told me. I agreed. It felt trueānot just here, but everywhere, for all of us.
In Siem Reap, perhaps I will let myself go a little mad, too.
