I don’t drive. Wait, let me rephrase that. I don’t drive in Manila. I could if I wanted to but I don’t. Being enclosed in a four-wheel drive and stuck in horrendous traffic will only result to multiple insurance claims— death or otherwise. If another vehicle (or a police officer) pisses me off, I would most probably and deliberately crash my car into it (or him) out of rage. I’m murderous that way. 😀
For USD2.00, you can rent Manong Khmer’s bike for an entire day.
Cambodia, more specifically Siem Reap, is a different terrain altogether. I LOVE cruising Khmer Land, albeit on a second-hand Japanese bicycle. Again, let me rephrase: I love cruising Khmer Land on a second-hand Japanese bicycle rented at my suking Manong Khmer na tindahan. 🙂
Nope, no photos of Manong Khmer and his Khmer minions
because I’m not your average exploitative turista. 🙂
Bicycles in Cambodia are as prolific as Filipino soap operas. They are everywhere. There is always a rental shop a stone’s throw away. Mind you, these shops are a gold mine. Most of them offer a wide range of services such as laundry, ironing, and computer repairs.
My suking Manong Khmer na tindahan, however, isn’t as close to the hotel as I’d like it to be. In fact, it took me forever to find it. I was scouting for a bike with a look and feel that veered from your usual Parisian influence if only to distinguish mine when I park it beside those which are.
Most bicycles in Cambodia don a wicker basket.
Manong Khmer’s had the atypical supermarket kind.
Somewhere between boyfriends, college, and my dad sending my mountain bike to his farm— I stopped biking. “Racing” with childhood friends (and being chased by asong kalyes) became a thing of the past.
One push from Manong Khmer and the past became present.
Back then I didn’t have the luxury of a baby bicycle or training wheels so I taught myself how to ride a grown up one. Like most childhood friends lost, I thought the memory of riding would elude me in Cambodia. I’m not ashamed to admit that I asked Manong Khmer to adjust the seat three times before I became comfortable with the height. And yes, I panicked when after two successive tries kicking the pedal, I couldn’t find my balance. Manong Khmer was too kind to recognize my
difficulty frustration and with one single push from him, I was off— squealing in victory.
Full stop on a red light.
Streets in Cambodia are a hodgepodge of cars, tuktuks,
motorcycles, and bicycles.
I’ve never felt more like Daenerys Stormborn Targaryen on her silver.
I get such a high whenever I see banks all over Cambodia. 🙂
Parking like a pro at the Red Piano.
Gliding on a bike wearing a modernized Khmer sampot.
BEST BORNDAY EVER!!! 🙂