Waving "byebye"


I struggle to concentrate on the road as small voices call from every direction, "bye bye", "sabaidee" or as I reach into Cambodia "hello, bye bye". I try to wave to each one like the queen on parade (or King maybe). Sometimes I have to strain my eyes to find the little voice coming from a tree, behind a bush or on top of a buffalo. They are anywhere and everywhere. Sometimes only a small hand can be seen above the window sill as the little munchkin peeks through the cracks in the wall boards. Where this enthusiasm comes from, I don't know. The parents of the smallest children hold their hands to make them wave as I whizz past. It sure makes a passing cyclist feel welcome, though for me I have found it hard to get beyond this and really interact with the people, I feel too different or perhaps to alien to them. Some kids run in fright at the sight of such a hairy man on a bicycle, only to wave from a safe distance. Those adults who do speak English are not easy to engage and those that don't quickly give up with the sign language or other means of communication. For me, SE Asia has been an incredibly easy place to be, almost to easy with nicely spaced guest houses and endlessly available food and drinks. I'm happy to have had company for most of my time here as it makes life as an observer more enjoyable. I think years of tourism have meant that all foreigners are seen just as rich people who can afford to pay for whatever. To some extent this is true, though with an interest in the people and places far beyond this, I will leave a little sad that I wasn't able to find a door leading very far into their lives. This certainly is partly my fault as I have not made a huge effort to try to stay with them as I have done elsewhere in the past. But my confidence to do so usually steams from a feeling of mutual interest which I have not felt here. It probably has a lot to do with the fact that travel is not a major part of life and culture, so understanding what I am doing and why I am doing it is very difficult for them to understand.
With just a couple of days to go before I reach Phnom Penh, I start to feel the pinch of the end of an amazing adventure, my thoughts start to gather as I try to put my feelings into words.

 

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A Lucky Brake

 

My hands desperately reach for the brakes, I pull hard but it's too late, I swerve right but my left handlebar makes contact followed soon after by me as I hit the back of the vehicle hard. I quickly come to a complete stop, my main concern is my bike at this point. One of the j-bars hangs by the handlebar tape, the mirror is gone. In a bit of shock I speak to the driver before getting off the road. I find the broken mirror on the ground some meters away.
The tail light on the truck is smashed, I point it out to the driver and try to figure out how much I should pay him. 500 baht? Not enough? Hmmm, ok, $20? No, he indicates 3000 baht. Finally we settle on $40 and 500 baht. Only then does the driver point out blood on my arm and leg. It's nothing major, I realise how lucky I am, could have been worse.
Racing across Thailand at about 25km/h, I look down for a second as a pick-up truck pulls in and stops in front of me, a perfect recipe for disaster.
With less than 2 weeks of cycling left to reach Phnom Penh, I start to feel that I'm reaching the end of this epic journey and the realities of normal life creeping back into my consciousness. But there are still 1000 km of road ahead which I will enjoy every minute of!

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Lizards and Ladybugs

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"Falang, dey lib dis howd..." My brain works overtime, falang means foreigner so that would translate to be: "Foreigners, they live this house."
The old mans bare pot belly wobbles as we walk slowly in the direction his stubby first finger points. My mission to find the home of a couple who invited me to stay some days earlier has been successful, but they are not home.
An hour or so earlier after a 115 km day I set off the centre of Vientiane to see what I could make of the poorly hand drawn map in my notebook. It wasn't long before I was lost, I had all but given up when a building that could only be of Soviet origin appear, as the Russian Embassy was THE landmark to find on my map, I circled to building to find confirmation. Sure enough this huge monstrosity, perhaps the biggest embassy I have every seen (apart from the US consulate in Istanbul) was, in fact, the Russian Embassy. Right, where to now? An ex-pat couple out with the dog walked me the right road, just 150 m to go according to the map, perfect. Not so easy, I quickly realise that the 3 building on my diagram are in fact 3 of at least 100 house in the street. By now the last light has faded, I must try to call. A girl prepares something on a small wooden table by the roadside, I stop and ask (or point in such a manner) if she's colouring her hair, no, stupid question, she's bleaching her skin. I ask after foreigners, a close examination of my map later and a phone appears, the number is called but no answer. I search myself some more, a motorbike appears next to me and the boy indicates I should go back with him.
The pot bellied man, along with a swarm of kids, appears explaining how he's studied English for 25 years, but has all but forgotten it. I understand something anyway. As I wait, they call the number again and again, a girl tries to explain with less than 5 words of English that her middle aged friend is single if I'm interested? I kindly decline. Finally, I'm taken to another place where a man speaks to me in good English explaining where I should find them, we walk in that direction.
Soon after, we arrive at the house which I thought was it 2 hours before, but wasn't sure. To my disappointment noones' home. I thank the entire street of locals for all their help and bike back towards town. As my eyes become heavy after a long day, I have a huge grin on my face just thinking about how much fun such a small thing, like finding a house, can be.

The photos are in a random order because of a virus I got on my USB key in Thailand.

 

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