Sunday, January 6, 2013

It's Not an Adventure Until Something Goes Wrong

The title is a quote from Jeff Johnson, in the documentary 180 South.  If you haven't seen it, it's the ultimate adventure story.  

So, of course, something did go wrong.  The sun was now slanting glowingly through the trees, quite beautiful really, except that this told us we were late getting going on the return journey.  Another 15 km back to Siem Reap.  
And my bike had a flat -  no spare tube, no pump, no patch.  Next time, I know what to bring.

Chan Mol had friends at Roluos, and we had a quick rescue.  Just a short distance to the roadside bike fixer's house.  Here's the young man who did the repairs.  Older than he looks, he's 12.  
The cost?  One dollar.  We bought bottles of water also, trying to spend more to justify all the help we were getting.



                                                                   
















While we waited for the new tube to be installed, Jules took the time to record Chan Mol's story of the war years.    He believes he was born in 1979, which would make him now 33 years old.  This seems about right.  He has been working a lot, supporting several younger siblings to keep them in school as well.

When he was around 13, while Pol Pot's Khmer Rouge army was fighting a running battle with the Vietnamese, Chan Mol remembers his father and the other village men taking the 50 head of cattle to pasture, moving them from one grazing spot to another.  One day, the men heard gunfire and artillery exploding near their village.  The fathers went back to the village to try to help, instructing the older boys to stay out with the cattle, away from danger.

The children hid in the jungle.  They had no food or water, and after a night out, they went to a friend's farm where there was some corn.  They had been told by the men to stay out, and wait for the fathers to come out to get them.  The armed factions had been placing landmines all through the area for many years, and the men were worried that the kids would hit them trying to return on their own.
Finally, the men came out and found the kids and cattle.  They all went back to the village, now that the soldiers had left.  The men sent the cattle first, and stepped carefully in the cow's tracks.  Roads were especially dangerous, and not all the cattle made it.
Gathering firewood was the most dangerous of all tasks in the village due to the landmines and other unexploded ordinance.  
The village had caves nearby to hide in when bombs or shelling threatened.  During some months, Chan Mol remembers not being allowed to go to school, or help his father outside the village with the cattle, but had to stay in these makeshift bunkers with the women.

Chan Mol was happy to talk about these things, but when we asked if he has had to tell this to many tourists, he said that tourists don't usually ask.   

And then, my bike repaired, we hit the road again.  
First, we took a look at some of the shops outside the Roluos ruins.  Here craftsmen and women are creating masks and puppets from leather that are sold at Angkor.  The tourism industry has created many jobs in this, and a lot of people with disabilities are creating art.





A scale model of Angkor Wat, on display to walk around and check out.













Whole families are working on leather crafts, first drawing the designs and then punching the leather with holes along the lines.  These become Shadow Puppets, and other designs.



                                 



As we pedaled back in the early evening light, we saw several games of volleyball going on.  Chan Mol said this sport is really catching on in Cambodia.  It takes only a net, a ball, and a little flat land, and maybe a few beers.









It was just about full on dark when we got back to Siem Reap.  And it seemed like we took a new route in - it took forever.  We wound quickly through many streets, filling up with streams of cars, tuk-tuks, motorcycles, other bikes, and buses spewing exhaust fumes.  Nobody ever stopped, and traffic lights were largely ignored. Nobody ever went really fast, either, thank goodness.  At one point, almost to the bike shed, we had to cross about 6 lanes of traffic.  There was no crosswalk, and so we learned the technique we called "Rock in the River".  We had Chan Mol upstream, then Jules and I.  We crept slowly into the moving traffic, heading diagonally a little downstream and toward the opposite "shore".  As long as we never stopped, the traffic would just part around us as we moved.  We stayed predictable, and everyone knew how to handle our little bike raft.

This long day at Roluos didn't end here. After thanking Chan Mol for an unforgettable, incredible day, we got cleaned up and went to town.  Time to find some dinner, a beer, and a fish pedicure!



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