\

 

Off National Hwy 3, Cambodia

The throbbing pain in my back, ass and legs forced us to pull over on the beat-up highway, hours south of Phnom Penh. I had somehow squeezed my body between my driver, “Martin,” and my overfilled
backpack, precariously tied to the rear of the motorcycle. While I stretched my limbs back to their original shape, hordes of onlookers crept slowly towards us with growing curiosity. Before I knew it, villages far and wide must have heard about the two strangers in these parts; everywhere my camera pointed, inquisitive eyes and shy smiles came into focus. The friendly locals of this pit stop made it that much harder for me to get back on the bike.

SBR

 

 

Off National Hwy 3, Cambodia

Taking the first much-needed break from our tightly wedged spots on the motorcycles, we limped over to a group of men selling water from a tiny shack on the side of the highway. Within minutes, we were surrounded by hesitant children who had seemingly slinked out of the shadows of the neighboring coconut palms to appear before us. More than fifteen pairs of curious eyes followed our every move. A simple suor s'dei ("hello") with a smile was all it took to warm them up. For the short time we shared with them, we managed to forget our aching limbs and the fact that we still had hours to go on the dreaded, laden-down bikes.

LS