| Saturday, August 02, 2008 |
| Hell's Angel goes to the ocean and nearly 'Nam |
 Loveliest thing about this stop-off in a nowhere village along the potholed road to Vietnam was the borderline-crazy man who wanted to practice English and buy us coffee. Anyone hankering for a touch of Type II diabetes should try this Khmer recipe: 1 part strong coffee, one part crushed ice from an unwashed bucket, a scoop or 5 of white sugar, 5 parts sweetened condensed milk. Add straw. Drink. Feel giddy. Immediately crave another one. Feel like you can take on the whole world. Begin shaking at minute 10. Feel comatose at 30. Anyone who says you can't drink crack through a straw hasn't been to this coffee shack.
 My abbreviated motorcycle-diaries trip with Tim was heading to Kep-by-the-sea, where crabs are famous and lightning storms rolling off the mountain are freaking terrifying. The road from Phnom Penh to Kep goes from paved and wide, to paved and terrifying, to bumpy and rocky, and back again. The amount of cars and buses doesn't vary much, but the width of the road does significantly. Today's SE Asian language lesson: honking means "I'm here, and it's time for YOU to move out of MY way." Alternately, "Meeeeeeeeeeeee!" This shouldn't be confused with American horns, which can be translated as wingdings and exclamations and pound signs to cover up vocal cussing. Or the Japanese horn, which says "Arigato!" while bowing and cowering along the side of the road in guilt. Thank you for driving on my road! It's been a pleasure!
 Here's the pretty young thing I rented for $4 per day and a passport. But no, I still haven't learned to drive. My personal helmet is black with blue flames on the side, and is a style worn by many-a-motodop man in Cambodge. I only bought it because the pink ones at the shop (with or without Hello Kitty decals) are sized for miniature-headed Khmer women. Buffalo Girls, won't you come out tonight wearing your manly manly helmet? Don't mind if I do.
  The way back, we took the long way around for 8 hours, motoing to hidden swimming caves that were mostly dry (from the drought), and over railroad tracks, unused and leading nowhere, and past endless stretches of rice fields, water buffalos, and curious farmers. After a 3 hour detour on a rocky road, we were within throwing distance from Vietnam, but headed north to get home in the midst of a downpour. The next morning at work, I wondered if Hell's Angels had the same kinds of problems sitting down after being on their choppers for so many hours. |
posted by Raychaa @ 5:28 PM  |
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