173 CYCLE TOURING CAMBODIA (10)

 173 CYCLE TOURING CAMBODIA (10)

2 October - 19 October 2024
1 042 Km – 17 Days

MAP

 

 

2-3 October - Muang Khong - Stung Treng - 100 km

I began my day with a steaming cup of coffee as I prepared for my ride across the bridge to join Route 13 South. Despite the brisk wind tugging at my clothes, I felt a surge of excitement at the prospect of returning to Cambodia after nearly five years when I cycled the country with my friends Megan, Erma, and Janice.

The process of getting stamped out of Laos turned out to be surprisingly straightforward, despite the border post's notorious reputation for bribery. The officers requested a $2 stamp fee, but I firmly declined, and they didn't push the issue. The Cambodian immigration process was much smoother, and I paid the $35 visa fee before resuming my journey.

The road leading south was in a sorry state due to ongoing repairs, covered in a thick layer of gravel that made cycling a challenge. Fortunately, motorbikes had carved out a single track next to the road. Although signs periodically indicated the "End of road work," the gravel would quickly reappear, and I kept reassuring myself with the mantra, "This too shall pass."

On a more positive note, I had the pleasure of meeting another cyclist from Japan who was also on a cycling adventure through Asia. I also discovered that Cambodia was in the midst of celebrating Pchum Ben, or the Festival of the Ancestors, one of the country's most significant and grandest festivals. I caught glimpses of the festivities, witnessing two-wheel tractors laden with villagers passing by in the opposite direction.

By the time I arrived in Stung Treng, it was late, and I struggled to find a hotel with available rooms, most likely due to the festivities. I settled for one that offered an air-conditioned room with a window for $12, but I found the cleanliness lacking, and I wondered if my frugality was worth it.

I decided to stay in Stung Treng the next day to withdraw Cambodian Riel or Khmer Riel (KHR) (4 000 KHR = 1 US$), a SIM card, and take care of a few other things.

 

4 October – Stung Streng – Preah Vihear – 140 km

I felt remarkably energetic, and the weather and the road were good. As a result, I pushed on. I forgot just how scenic Cambodia is. Numerous unusual sights kept me occupied, and I again realised just how comfortable the Cambodians are on a motorbike, as twice I saw people returning from the clinic with an IV drip bag on a stick attached to their arm.

I don't know what was in the drink I bought from a roadside vendor as I was so energetic that I cycled the 140 km to Preah Vihear. Once there I was more than happy to find Javier Guest House, which has a lovely large room for only $7.

 

5 October – Preah Vihear – Phumi Moreal, Heng Heng Guest House – 83 km

I wasn’t all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, and my morning search for a baguette revealed nothing, so I got on the road and headed toward Siam Reap. Again, the scenery was unsurpassed, and it turned out to be a lovely day of riding. Sixty km later, I came upon Koh Ker, a UNESCO World Heritage and Archaeological Site. This Ancient capital of the Khmer Empire between 921 and 944 CE is now partially hidden in a dense forest; I dropped my bags at a guesthouse and went exploring. It was after six p.m. that I returned and headed straight to a restaurant, starving.

 

6 October – Phumi Moreal – Siam Reap – 100 km

It rained throughout the night, and I could still hear it pouring when I woke up. I stayed in bed with a coffee and played on my phone until I heard that the rain subsided. It was thus late morning by the time I saddled my old iron horse for the ride to Siam Reap. I felt immensely happy to be on the bike, pedalling down a rural road. The sound of children calling “Hello Farang” always brought a smile to my face, their voices blending with the sound of cattle. If you didn’t respond, they would keep calling louder and louder, their excitement echoing through the countryside.

This is such a rural part of Cambodia that, at times, I could imagine I'm on a different planet. By the time I neared touristy Siam Reap, I was somewhat taken aback by the urgency of the drivers and the chaotic dance of traffic, which sharply contrasted with the peaceful countryside. Still, I joined this dance and made my way to Smiley Guesthouse, which has ground-floor budget rooms and a swimming pool. It’s a good place to lay low, and I paid for three nights.

On stepping out, I thought I could easily spend the three days eating as the aroma of the local delicacies wafted through the air. I imagined myself exploring all the culinary delights of the area.

The following day, I took the bicycle to the bike shop to be cleaned and oiled. I was shocked at the prices in Siam Reap. When prices are quoted in US$, you know you have been overcharged. So, nothing much came of eating at all the restaurants that looked so inviting the previous evening as they were clearly priced with tourists in mind. Eventually, I grabbed a baguette with egg and salad from a mobile vendor at less than half the price at the sit-down restaurants. I also handed in my laundry to get a proper machine wash as it’s a fee I never complain about.

 

9 October Siam Reap – Stoung – 102 km

I made a bit of a detour because I didn’t want to cycle along the main road, but the minor road I chose soon spat me out on the main road south. I guess I’ll never get used to Cambodia's ingenious means of transport. There is nothing they cannot transport by bicycle or a two-wheel tractor.

Once away from Siam Reap, the road was quiet and a pleasure to cycle. The rain lasted no more than 10 minutes, and soon, the sun was shining bright again. I met the nicest people; a man stopped and handed me a Pocari Sweat. How nice was that? Later, I stopped to take a break and met a mum and her daughter who could speak some English. She was ever so helpful, and we took a few selfies.

I was on the old Khmer highway between Angkor and Phnom Penh. It's a new road today, but surprisingly, the Kampong Kdei Bridge is still in use. Built in the 12th century, Spean Praptos, also known as Kampong Kdei Bridge, used to be the longest corbeled stone-arch bridge in the world, with over twenty narrow arches spanning 87 metres.

I arrived in Stoung around four p.m. It is a typical Cambodian small town with a market, a temple, muddy roads, a petrol station, bug vendors, and the ever-present mobile food carts. My guest house cost 8 Dollars, and the room was as big as a dancehall. Taking the stir my presence created, I didn’t think a farang had ever stayed at this establishment; great was my surprise thus when I discovered a young American lady also staying at the guesthouse and travelling by bicycle. She was heading to Siam Reap and this was her fourth day on her first cycling holiday.

 

10 October - Stoung – Won With Guest House – 110 km

In a 2021 survey, it was found that approximately 63 percent of households in Cambodia are engaged in agricultural production. It's thus common to see wooden houses on stilts with chickens, buffalos, cows, palm and mango trees next to rice fields. Today, I came across many "Ambok" or flattened rice producers along the road. The rice seemed to be first roasted in a pan with a mechanical stirrer, then pounded in a wooden bowl and separated from the husk in a sieve. During the rice harvest, some rice is specially prepared for certain Khmer ceremonies and family gatherings. I regret not buying any, but hopefully, I'll find them again tomorrow. After 110 km, I found Win With Guesthouse, a perfect spot midway between Phnom Penh and Stoung. Once again, the experience of finding food was fascinating and amusing.

 

11 October – Win With or Von Vith guest house - Phnom Penh 110km

The ride to Phnom Pehn was surprisingly easy, as it is a new road. Still, it was pretty boring, and I believe that my ride along the river trail was far more interesting. However, it was easy riding, although not much happened except for stopping at Skun, known as Spider Village. The reason is that it’s a place well known for the exotic cuisine of tarantulas. Vendors sold deep-fried tarantulas coated in garlic and chillies, and although the aroma was appetising, I don’t think I can ever get myself to eat a tarantula. The last stretch into the capital was easy-going except for the chaotic traffic. I rarely made a booking, but this time I did, and as always, it was a total disaster, and I didn’t stay at the place booked. I, however, easily found a room as just about every second building in Phnom Pehn is a guesthouse.

I stayed in Phnom Penh for three nights as I quite like the place, and I had the usual housekeeping to attend to. I also met up with Matt, a friend for many years and we had supper at the Addis Restaurant. I love Ethiopian food, and the food at Addis is excellent and it made for a lovely and relaxing evening.

 

14 October – Phnom Penh – Krong Doun Kaev – 103 km

As I left the bustling city of Phnom Penh, I found myself navigating through the chaotic Monday morning traffic. It always takes some time to adjust to the constant flow of vehicles and the need to trust the traffic around me. Once I cleared the city limits, I followed a narrow path along the serene Bassac River. A sign directed towards Chisor Mountain Temple caught my eye, prompting me to change my course to the west. To my delight, I stumbled upon the ancient ruins of this 11th-century temple perched high on a hill, accessible by a lengthy staircase. Despite the heat and swarms of mosquitoes, I persevered and was delighted to reach the remains of this old temple. However, my battle with the mosquitoes eventually forced me to cut my visit short. By the time I finished, it was already late afternoon, but I decided to cycle to the next village, which was only 30 km away.

 

15-17 - October – Krong Doun Kaev – Kampot - 86 km

Again, the Main Road to Kampot was a dead boring affair. That said, the road was new, wide and in good condition, so I shouldn’t complain. It’s just that I don’t like such predictability. In any event, I stuck to the main road and soon landed in the lovely riverside town of Kampot. I’ve visited Kampot on many occasions and this time I chose to stay in the village. Good Morning Kampot Guesthouse was an ideal place to stay as it was slap bang in the centre and right on the river. It also offered spacious budget rooms on the upper floors with a restaurant below. Reviews stated that the food was excellent; I think whoever made those comments must have been British, as the food was so bland that I had to ask for a portion of fresh chillies to make it more palatable. LOL

I paid for two nights and was thus slow to rise the following morning. With no plans for the day, I handed in my laundry as whenever I have a chance of having my laundry done for a dollar, I can’t resist. I did truly little the rest of the day except visit the Kampot market as no one can be in Kampot and not go to the market or buy the famous Kampot pepper, known as the best pepper in the world.

I was up early to collect my laundry, but the lady couldn’t find it and asked that I return later. There wasn’t much to do in Kampot, so I took my bicycle and cycled to the old fishing village on the opposite side of the river. Much later, I returned and was happy to find that my laundry was located. I was so happy that I treated myself to Nachos & Gaugamela in Kampot Alley, where noodles are still handmade, and something is always steaming in a pot.

 

18 October – Kampot – Srae Ambel – 108 km

After doing almost nothing for two full days, I felt pretty energetic and was eager to get underway. I had no specific plan and contemplated going to Sihanoukville.

The day started with a lovely scenic ride, and I was happy to be out on the bike. This euphoria, however, came to a grinding halt when the paved road abruptly disappeared after approximately 25 km. It was not a disaster until I realised this was no ordinary dirt road but one that had been neglected for years, and I thought it resembled a minefield (not that I knew what it looked like). In any event, I persevered, bouncing over the potholes and slip-sliding through the muddy patches. Conditions worsened as the day progressed, and I had my eye set on the junction 20 km away, believing conditions would improve from there. I clawed onto the handlebars for dear life, and after 5 km, I stopped to take a breather, feeling happy I managed 5 km. My wrists and arms felt shaky, but I returned to the bike, determined to reach the main road. And so it went until I reached the junction.

It was already quite late, and instead of going to Sihanoukville, I decided to head straight to Srae Ambel. You can imagine my surprise when I found the road (although paved) in dreadful condition, busy and narrow. So narrow was the road that two trucks could barely pass one another, let alone avoid bicycles or motorbikes. Motorbikes mainly used the no-man’s land next to the paved road, and I followed suit. This was no easy ride as the no-man’s land wasn’t meant for vehicles and was by then potholed and muddy. I was in this mess and had to persevere. The continuous rain didn’t make the ride any more manageable. Once, I stopped for coffee to get out of the rain and rest my wrists, but I still had a way to go and soon got back on the bike.

A new road was in the process of being constructed, which made the way one huge construction site. The hills encountered at the end of the day left me gasping for air, but I pushed on, and 5 km from Srae Amble, the weather came in again, and I pedalled like a woman possessed to reach the town before the storm broke. I reached the town just as raindrops started falling and pulled into the nearest Guest House. I was relieved I made it but soon discovered it was a brothel, LOL, not that I could care less as I was far too tired to be concerned about that.

 

19 October - Srae Ambel - Koh Kong – by bus

I was optimistic about the new road leading to the border being completed, but unfortunately, that wasn't the reality. Despite my determination to continue, the mud clogged the chain and gears, forcing me to stop and clear the wheels. What a mess! Seeking advice on the road conditions ahead, I stopped at a roadside eatery, only to be informed that the road was impassable for a bicycle. Although I usually take such warnings lightly, I decided to heed the advice this time. I was directed to a bus, where I was surprised to find no seats, just an open space. As we traversed the bumpy road, the driver and his companion were incredibly amiable, even buying me a coffee and offering water and a baguette. Initially told that the journey would take seven hours to cover 125 km, I was relieved when we arrived in Koh Kong after just 5 hours. I paid the driver 50,000 riel for the ride, which I thought was a bargain. He seemed content with the payment and even offered me change, which made me chuckle. Afterwards, I cycled around town searching for budget accommodation and found Rene’s Pasta Bar & Guesthouse, which offered a fan room for only $11. The room was sparkling clean, the staff helpful, and the food delicious. I couldn’t be happier.

 

CYCLE TOURING THAILAND

KOH KONG – PATTAYA

20 OCTOBER – 23 OCTOBER

4 DAYS – 355 KM

 

20 October – Koh Kong – Trat – 100 km

I had a slow start this morning. Every task seemed to drag on forever, and I even considered staying another day. However, since my bags were packed, I decided to cycle to the money exchange and convert my remaining Cambodian Riel to Thai Baht. The distance to the Cambodia-Thailand border was only about 10 km, but by the time I left the immigration office, it was already past 12. I felt completely drained and lacked the energy for the 90 km ride to Trat. The route to Trat was quite hilly, and my legs were not cooperating. Despite this, I persevered, knowing it was a beautiful ride on a well-maintained road. I entertained the idea of settling for a roadside motel, but I daydreamed so much that I suddenly realised I was only 30 km away from Trat. Fifteen km from Trat, the sky darkened, and someone jokingly shouted, "Rain is coming!" Before I knew it, it was dark and raining; I couldn't help but think I must be crazy. However, at that point, I had no choice but to keep going. It was a nerve-racking experience. Eventually, I arrived in Trat and had to walk the bike through the darkness and rain, searching for a guesthouse. Finally, I spotted one and knocked on the already closed door. Being incredibly kind, the owner let a drenched farang (me and my bicycle) into his guesthouse. The room was available for just $7, and I couldn't believe my luck. The room was quite colourful. 🤣🤣🤣

 

21 October - Trat – Chantaburi – 70 km

Even though this is usually a pleasant ride, I was not in the mood for cycling, but knew it had to be done. Fortunately, the ride was short, and the weather perfect, making biking easy. I chose a pleasant route through old hamlets and passed even older temples. I love these country lanes. My arrival in Chanthaburi was just as a few raindrops started falling and checked into the nearest hotel. The Muangchan Hotel is hidden but offers ground-floor rooms at 350 THB. I would have easily paid more to avoid carrying my panniers up a floor or two. Later, I strolled to the night market, always a fascinating affair, but it remained virtually impossible to find vegetarian food.

 

22 October – Chantaburi – Rayong - 115km

I didn't want to be back in Thailand and wasn't keen on the ride to Pattaya. Still, I thought it best to extend my non-immigrant visa as it's a pretty handy visa. It's not that this part of Thailand isn't interesting; it's just that I've cycled it too many times, and it's never nice to return to where you started just a few months ago. Anyway, I reluctantly made my way in that direction and, after 115 km, arrived in Rayong, where I cycled straight to Richy Grant Guesthouse. It's easily the cheapest accommodation in town and comes with washing machines, which is always a bonus. I've been here so many times, the owner gave me a discount on the room. LOL.

 

23 October – Rayong – Jomtien, Pattaya – 70 km

Instead of taking my usual coastal route, I took the main road and cycled (almost) nonstop to Jomtien where I arrived hungry because I didn't stop for food. I eventually found my key, which I had forgotten what I had done with. Everything was exactly as I left it, except for a layer of dust, which didn't bother me too much. It was good to have a decent shower, coffee, and beer. I decided to do the laundry later. While hanging out the laundry, I heard someone call my name. Leo and Sammy were on their way to the Corner Bar, so I went downstairs to join them for a cold one.

 

24 October – Jomtien

I did nothing productive all day except watch the robot vacuum, sweep, and mop, LOL. However, I did walk across the road to the day market to stock up on eggs and potatoes, as putting eggs in a steamer and a potato in the microwave is pretty straightforward. By late afternoon, I strolled to the beach, and it was a real privilege. I sat on the sand, scolding myself for feeling restless, when I should be grateful for the opportunity to have just completed a lovely circular route in Southeast Asia through three countries in 8 leisurely weeks, covering 3,371 km.

172 Cycle Touring Laos (9) Sabai-dee, Falang

 

Sabai-dee, Falang!

Encounters of Kindness on the Lao Roads 

 

VOICVEOVER
 
PDF

Chapter 1: Borderlines and Beginnings

 

Scams, storms and friendly faces.

The morning rain tapped gently on the corrugated roof of the guesthouse in Nong Khai, Thailand, as if urging me to linger. With only thirty kilometres separating me from Vientiane, Laos’s capital, there was no rush. The guesthouse owner, a woman whose warmth seemed to radiate from every gesture, made it even harder to leave. We spoke in fragments—her English, my Thai, and the universal language of smiles—but the exchange was enough to remind me why I travel: for these fleeting connections that leave a lasting imprint.

Eventually, I wheeled my bicycle out into the damp air and pedalled toward the Thai immigration office. The process was surprisingly smooth, a rare gift at border crossings where bureaucracy often tangles into chaos. But the relief was short-lived. On the Lao side, the officers demanded $50 for a visa instead of the usual $30. I protested, but my words dissolved into the humid air. At the border, one is always at the mercy of authority. With reluctant resignation, I handed over the money, the sting of injustice clinging to me like the drizzle that refused to let up.

Crossing into Laos should have felt like a homecoming. Six years had passed since my last visit, and I had imagined a joyful reunion with familiar streets and the languid rhythm of the Mekong. Instead, irritation shadowed my arrival. Even the river, swollen and furious from the rains, seemed to mirror my mood. Its waters pressed against the banks, threatening to spill over, a reminder that nature, like bureaucracy, has its own unyielding power.

I wandered the riverfront, trying to shake off the frustration. Vientiane changed in my absence. Some of the improvements were welcome—new pavements, brighter facades, but others carried a bittersweet edge, as if the city were trading pieces of its soul for progress. The old charm lingered in pockets: the scent of fresh baguettes wafting from bakeries, the quiet dignity of temples weathered by centuries, the slow pace of life that resisted the rush of modernity. Yet I couldn’t ignore the undercurrent of loss, the way memory and reality collided, leaving me unsettled.

That evening, as the Mekong surged beside me, I reflected on the paradox of beginnings. Journeys rarely start with the clean slate we imagine. Sometimes they begin with irritations, delays, and small injustices. But perhaps that is the point. Travel demands resilience. It asks us to carry both the beauty and the bitterness, to accept that the road ahead will be paved with potholes and kindness alike. And so, with the rain still falling and the city lights flickering across the water, I resolved to let Laos reveal itself on its own terms—scams, storms, and all.

 

Wandering Vientiane

The drizzle lingered into the next morning, soft and persistent, as though the city itself wanted to slow me down. Vientiane is not a place that rushes. Its rhythm is measured, unhurried, and I found myself falling into step with it. After a leisurely breakfast, I set out beneath my umbrella, chasing small errands that would become the day’s unlikely adventure: a lens cap for my camera, lost somewhere along the road, and a mirror for my bicycle, essential in a country where traffic flows on the opposite side.

What should have been a simple task unfolded into a meandering pilgrimage across the city. The streets carried me past temples whose gilded roofs glistened in the rain, their walls whispering centuries of devotion. Monks in saffron robes moved quietly through the drizzle, their presence a reminder of the spiritual heartbeat that pulses beneath the surface of daily life. Each temple seemed to hold its own story, a fragment of Laos’s layered past, and I lingered at its gates, humbled by the weight of history.

The scent of food was everywhere—grilled meats, steaming bowls of noodle soup, and the earthy aroma of sticky rice. Yet it was the humble baguette that drew me in, a legacy of French colonial days that has become a staple of Lao cuisine. I bit into its crisp crust and soft centre, marvelling at how something so simple could feel like a feast. Travel often teaches that joy lies not in grand gestures but in small, unexpected pleasures.

As the day stretched on, I realised that my errands had become an excuse to wander, to let the city reveal itself in fragments. Vientiane is the capital, but it does not bear the weight of power. Its streets are lined with modest shops, its pace dictated more by bicycles and tuk-tuks than by the urgency of politics. Even the rain seemed to conspire to keep things gentle, softening the city's edges and blurring its lines.

By evening, I returned to my guesthouse with a new lens cap, a bicycle mirror, and a heart full of impressions. The drizzle had not let up, but I no longer minded. Vientiane had offered me something more valuable than errands completed: a reminder that wandering without a destination is its own kind of pilgrimage. In the slow rhythm of its streets, I found a lesson in patience, in savouring the ordinary, in letting the journey unfold without haste. In the process, I met the very talented artist, Tim Williams, from the UK, but living in Thailand.

 

 

Chapter 2: Heading South in The Season of Floods

 

Into the Floods

The morning broke with a rare gift: sunlight. After days of drizzle, the sky seemed to open in a gesture of mercy, and I hurried to pack my gear before the clouds could change their mind. Vientiane was still stirring, its streets not yet alive with the hum of traffic, and I relished the quiet as I pedalled out of the city. My destination was Buddha Park, a place I had visited years before, hoping this time the journey would be smoother.

The road surprised me. Where once there had been rough gravel and potholes, now a ribbon of fresh pavement stretched ahead, gleaming in the morning light. It felt like a small victory, a cyclist’s dream. But as I approached the park, the triumph dissolved into shock. Much of the area lay underwater, swallowed by the swollen Mekong. Concrete statues of gods and demons rose eerily from the flood, their faces half-submerged, as if the river had claimed them back into its mythic embrace. It was a reminder that in Laos, nature always has the final word.

I pressed on, searching for Route 13—the artery that runs south through the country toward Cambodia. Asking for directions proved futile. The locals smiled politely, nodding in ways that suggested agreement but offered no clarity. It was not dishonesty, but a cultural kindness: better to nod than to disappoint. And so I relied on instinct, following the road as the signs of flooding grew more severe. Soldiers lined the banks, stacking sandbags in a battle they seemed destined to lose. The water crept closer, indifferent to human effort.

When I finally reached Route 13, relief washed over me—only to be replaced by frustration. The road was narrow, crowded with buses, trucks, and cars, each vying for space. Potholes yawned like traps, deep enough to swallow a wheel whole. It was a rider’s nightmare, a gauntlet of hazards that demanded every ounce of concentration. The beauty of the landscape blurred into the background; my eyes were fixed on the asphalt, scanning for danger.

For a brief stretch, salvation arrived in the form of a “two-wheel tractor,” a slow-moving machine that carved a path through the chaos. I tucked in behind it, riding its slipstream, grateful for the buffer it provided against the onslaught of traffic. But the reprieve was short-lived. Soon I was alone again, navigating the madness, my nerves frayed by the constant roar of engines and the jolt of every pothole.

By mid-afternoon, and after a mere 80 kilometres, the sight of the Dokphet Hotel felt like a mirage. It was only 3:30 p.m., and I had covered barely eighty kilometres, but I did not hesitate. I needed to rest my mind, a place to breathe. The hotel was a sanctuary: spacious rooms nestled in a lush garden, a restaurant nearby, and a price so modest it felt like a gift. For the first time that day, I exhaled fully, letting the tension drain from my body.

That night, as I wrote my journal in the quiet garden, I reflected on the paradox of the road. Travel is not always about beauty or discovery. Sometimes it is about endurance, about surviving the chaos long enough to find peace at the end of the day. The floods, the potholes, the relentless traffic—all of it was part of the journey, as essential as the temples and the smiles of children. To cycle through Laos was to accept both the serenity of its landscapes and the fury of its roads. And in that acceptance, I found a strange kind of joy.

 

Paksan to Vieng Kham, 90 km

I woke to a lovely overcast morning, the kind that invites adventure. Setting out, I was greeted by a good road, albeit with some narrow stretches that tested my balance. Still, cycling was a breeze, and I found myself captivated by the incredible scenery. It amazed me how resourcefully the locals had adapted to the flooding—every household had a boat, and even the tiniest kids were skilled rowers!

I’ve always enjoyed zipping through villages, often pursued by young ones on bicycles. These days, though, what used to be a bicycle race is now a chase on electric scooters. Times are changing, and I find it both amusing and heartwarming.

I rolled into Vieng Kham around midday and, despite it being early, I decided to spend the night. The room here was even cheaper—80,000 LAK—but definitely lacked the charm of the previous night’s stay.

 

Sleepless Nights, Spectacular Rides

(Vieng Kham to Thakhek – 104 km)

The night in Vieng Kham was restless from the start. Just as I had surrendered to sleep, a knock rattled the door. My heart leapt as though I had been jolted awake mid-ride, adrenaline surging through my veins. It was nothing more than a case of mistaken identity, but the damage was done. Sleep fled, leaving me wide-eyed in the dark. I turned to the glow of my phone, scrolling through videos until the hours dissolved into dawn. By the time the rain began its morning percussion on the roof, I was exhausted. I forced myself onto the road. The air was thick with humidity while small hills rose ahead, demanding energy I did not have. My stomach growled, reminding me that I had skipped breakfast.

Fifty kilometres in, I stumbled into a roadside eatery, where an omelette on rice became salvation. The simple meal energised me, a reminder that sometimes survival is measured in eggs and grains.

Dark clouds gathered as I ate, threatening another deluge, and soon the road narrowed into a stretch of construction. Gravel and dust clung to my tyres, but mercifully, the disruption lasted only a few kilometres. When the clouds drifted away, the landscape revealed its grandeur. To my left, the Annamite Range unfurled like a living wall, its peaks rising in jagged defiance against the sky. Mist curled around the slopes, softening their edges, while the river shimmered at their base. The sight was so arresting that fatigue dissolved into awe. Every turn of the road offered a new perspective, a fresh revelation of beauty.

By late afternoon, I rolled into Thakhek, a riverside town perched on the Mekong. The day’s hardships—the sleepless night, the hunger, the sweat—fell away as I checked into the Mekong Hotel. My room was modest, but the view was extraordinary. From the outdoor restaurant, I watched the river surge past, its surface alive with currents, while across the water the lights of Thailand flickered like stars. Dinner was simple, but in that moment it felt like a feast, a celebration of endurance and arrival.

 

Muddy Roads and Instant Noodles

Thakhek to Roadside Guesthouse – 75 km

The rain returned with vengeance as I left Thakhek, turning the riverside road into a quagmire. Mud clung to my tyres, each rotation a battle against suction. Progress slowed to a crawl—five kilometres in half an hour—and frustration gnawed at me. By the time I reached seventy-five kilometres, I was caked in mud, my body weary. A roadside guesthouse appeared like a lifeline. The proprietress charged me more than seemed fair, but I didn’t argue. At ten dollars, even an overpriced room was salvation. With no food vendors nearby, I turned to my emergency stash of instant noodles, slurping them in gratitude before collapsing into bed. Travel teaches humility: sometimes survival is measured in noodles and shelter.

 

 

Chapter 3 - Savannakhet and Vat Phou

 

 

Chapter Seven: Savannakhet Supplies

Roadside Guesthouse to Savannakhet – 45 km

The next morning, the road improved, and so did my spirit. Savannakhet welcomed me with its wide boulevards and colonial echoes. I wandered its streets with purpose, stocking up for the long stretch south toward Cambodia. Bamboo shoots, mushrooms, lotus seeds—markets brimmed with the bounty of the rainy season.

 

 

Markets of Plenty

Leaving Savannakhet, I cycled under an overcast sky that mirrored the lush scenery. Roadside stalls overflowed with mushrooms and lotus seeds, women led buffalo to pasture, and villagers fished in flooded paddies. Each scene was a reminder of resilience, of life lived in rhythm with the rains. That evening, a humble guesthouse became my refuge. The manager, seeing my hunger, hopped on his motorbike to fetch me a meal. It was modest—rice piled high, a few vegetables—but it was delivered with kindness. In Laos, generosity often takes the simplest form.

 

Pakse and the Xe Don River

The road south carried me to Pakse, where the Xe Don River meets the Mekong. Guesthouses lined the banks, and I chose one perched above the water. The carnival lights of riverside stalls flickered in the dusk, their aromas mingling with the scent of rain. My room was less than pristine, but I laughed as I scrubbed it clean, armed with bathroom cleaner and insect repellent. Travel is not about perfection—it is about embracing imperfection with humour. Pakse became a place of rest, of sorting through photos and nursing the beginnings of a cold, while the river flowed endlessly past.

 

Vat Phou and the Little Guide

From Pakse, I rode to Champassak, where the ruins of Vat Phou awaited. The UNESCO site rose from the landscape like a memory of empires past, its stone stairways leading to a summit with sweeping views of rice fields below. The grandeur of Khmer engineering humbled me, a reminder of civilisations that once flourished here. Nearby, at Prasat Hong Nang Sida, a seven-year-old girl appeared, her laughter and gestures transforming her into my impromptu guide. She led me through the ruins, handed me a lotus leaf to shield against the sun, and held my hand with a sweetness that lingered long after. In her innocence, I found the purest form of hospitality, a gift more precious than any monument.

 

Four Thousand Islands

The Mekong widened into a labyrinth of islets, the famed Si Phan Don—Four Thousand Islands. Crossing by boat was daunting, but watching motorbikes loaded with ease reassured me. On Don Khong Island, I lingered, savouring the slow rhythm of river life. Boys leapt from bridges into the current, laughter echoing across the water. Storms rolled in, thunder cracking overhead, forcing me to shelter in abandoned buildings. Yet even in the chaos, the islands offered peace. I spent an extra day here, updating my journal, spending the last of my Lao kip, and letting the river’s rhythm seep into my bones.

 

Crossing into Cambodia

The border loomed, notorious for corruption, but fortune favoured me. The Lao officers asked for a two-dollar “stamp fee,” which I refused, and they let it pass. Cambodia welcomed me with smoother bureaucracy: a visa stamped for $35. The road south was rough, the gravel thickly laid, but motorbikes had carved a narrow track that guided me forward. “This too shall pass,” I repeated, a mantra against frustration. Along the way, I met a Japanese cyclist whose journey mirrored mine and glimpsed villagers celebrating Pchum Ben, the Festival of the Ancestors. Two-wheel tractors carried families to ceremonies, their laughter a reminder of continuity, of traditions that bind generations. By the time I reached Stung Treng, rooms were scarce, the town alive with festival crowds. I settled for a modest hotel, whose cleanliness was questionable, but its air-conditioning was a blessing. The journey had carried me across borders, through floods and kindness, into Cambodia’s embrace.

 

Epilogue: Lessons from Laos

Laos revealed itself in contrasts: flooded roads and serene temples, scams at borders and gifts of kindness in villages, exhaustion and awe. To cycle through its landscapes was to live in tension—between hardship and joy, chaos and beauty. Yet it was the people who defined the journey. Children waving from stilted homes, guesthouse owners welcoming me with smiles, strangers fetching meals when none were available. Their generosity carried me forward, reminding me that resilience is not only about enduring storms but also about embracing kindness when it appears.

As I crossed into Cambodia, I carried Laos with me—not just its rivers and mountains, but its spirit of hospitality, its lessons in patience, its reminder that joy often arrives in the simplest forms. Travel is never just about distance covered. It is about transformation; about the way landscapes and people reshape us. In Laos, I found not only roads and rivers but also resilience, kindness, and the quiet beauty of connection. And that, more than any kilometre, is the true measure of the journey.

171 THAILAND - THE SOUTH COAST AND BEYOND

 171 THAILAND 
The South Coast and Beyond – 2024

PHOTOS

THAILAND (22.2) – The South Coast

305 Km - 4 Days

10 July – 20 July 2024

 

July 10 - Pattaya – Rayong – 62 km

I was ready surprisingly early. Perhaps it was because I wasn’t embarking on a long journey, just a 10-day adventure before Dawn arrived on the 20th. I couldn’t wait for her visit and the fun activities we had planned (definitely not cycling, LOL). My time in Thailand was drawing to a close. I didn’t want to jinx it but, hopefully, I'll be able to leave Thailand (as much as I love it) before the year ends. Being holed up in nothing more than a hotel room for such a long time is challenging.

As I pedalled out of Jomtien, I couldn't help but chuckle. There's always an exhilarating feeling when I set off towards an unknown destination, even if the area is familiar. Despite the overcast weather, I daydreamed so much that I hardly took any pictures. Most of my time was spent figuring out my new Garmin watch. I still don’t know why I thought getting it was a good idea. It's too complicated, and I don't see much difference from my inexpensive Xiaomi Redmi watch. Oh well, what's done is done, and I'll have to make it work.

Reaching Rayong, I decided it was time to call it a day, mainly because the Richy Grant guesthouse is cheap as chips and provides washing machines and filtered water. Plus, there's a night market nearby! Before heading to the market, I should have grabbed a small bite to eat, as I returned with enough food to feed an army. The rest of the evening was spent reorganising my panniers while eating through my mountain of food.

 

11 July – Rayong – Roadside guest cottage – 85 km

The previous night, the sky put on a dramatic show with heavy rain, thunder, and lightning. As the morning arrived, a drizzle persisted, giving me the perfect excuse to organise my belongings at leisure.

Finally, when the rain subsided, I set out. However, after a mere five kilometres, the rain returned, forcing me to seek refuge at a petrol station with an Amazon Café. The day, however, took a turn for the better, offering ideal cycling conditions with a gentle ocean breeze and a thin cloud cover, a complete contrast to the earlier deluge.

My progress was slow as I made adjustments every few kilometres – first, it was my watch, then the chain, and later, the tyres. I also took advantage of the conditions and frequently stopped to snap a few pics. It's always such a pleasure to cycle the South Coast. Around five o'clock, I stumbled upon charming roadside cottages with nearby shops and restaurants and thought it the perfect spot to spend the night.

 

12-13 July – Roadside cottage – Chanthaburi – 75 km

I woke up surprisingly early at six o’clock, made coffee, and sat listening to the many birds whistling their individual tunes. Later, I packed my belongings, said goodbye to the owner, and continued my bike ride along the coast.

It was a rather overcast day, but cycling the scenic route along the coast is always a privilege. Along the way, I stopped at a few viewpoints to enjoy the views, which no doubt came with a bit of a climb. With 20 kilometres left to go to Chanthaburi, I turned inland and passed emerald-green rice fields, which made the ornate Buddhist temples in the area even more striking.

When I arrived in Chanthaburi, I went straight to the old waterfront community and checked into Laluna River House. It's affordable at 420 THB per room and offers a lovely river view. Since I arrived early, I spent the rest of the day eating. The following day, I spent a super lazy day in Chanthaburi, not doing much except walking around the supermarket and investigating the old town.

The durian, also known as the "king of fruit" in Asia, remains, at least to me, one of the strangest fruits. Although native to Borneo and Sumatra, it is grown all over Southeast Asia. It is enormous, mostly 30 cm x 15 cm, and, as can be expected from such a large and heavy fruit, it grows on large branches directly on the trunk. It has a tough, spiky rind, which is nearly impossible to open unless you know what you are doing. It also comes with an overpowering (unpleasant?) odour. Despite this, it hides a soft, creamy flesh - a pricey delicacy in Thailand. I've never bought any as they are expensive, but I love durian-flavoured ice cream. The smell is so strong that most hotels and guesthouses don’t allow durian.

 

14 July - Chantaburi – Bo Rai Resort – 83 km

I was unsure where I wanted to go, so I followed minor roads until I reached the main road. Not feeling like spending time on the busy Sukhumvit Road, I veered off at the first opportunity. Soon, I found myself on a superb road heading north through dense forests. The area seemed seldom visited, as I hardly encountered any traffic or people. I was thus surprised and delighted to stumble upon quaint Bo Rai, which sported a lovely hotel and a 7-Eleven.

I also heard from my dear friend, Anil that he was in Pattaya. Since I had never managed to catch up with them when in India, and had promised to meet them in Pattaya, I hurriedly organised a ride back to Pattaya the following morning.

 

15 July – Bo Rai – Pattaya

And, just like that, I was back in Pattaya. Seeing Anil and his friends was lovely, and we spent an evening socialising at the Beer Garden in Pattaya.

As Dawn was arriving in four days, I decided to stay put.

 

19 July – 18 August

Dawn arrived, and it was a fun month of eating, drinking, and catching up with everyone. We spent a few days on Ko Samet and, as always, a few days in Bangkok, where we met Luke (her son) just before they flew home. We had plans to do much more, but the days flew by, and very few of our plans materialised.

 

20 August

Once back in Jomtien, I waited for my second bicycle to be serviced and started packing my panniers for my trip around Asia. I packed, cleaned the room, and got rid of loads of stuff I had collected during my stay in Jomtien—none of which I really needed and, indeed, not anything I would lug around with me on a bicycle trip.

 

 

THAILAND (22.3) – The Road North
Jomtien – Nong Khai
28 August - 13 September 2024
1 010 Km – 16 Days

 

 

28 August – Jomtien – Khao Khan Song – 85 km

It was 28 August before I cycled out of Jomtien. The day was anything but enjoyable, as I first had to swing by the Immigration Office to get a re-entry permit into Thailand to avoid losing my Non-Immigrant visa. This little procedure took the best part of two hours, and it was 11.30 a.m. before I collected my passport and got back on the bike.

Since I didn’t have a specific route in mind, I headed north. However, the minor roads I chose were jampacked with trucks and construction vehicles, making them a nightmare to navigate.

Major construction is taking place in the area, and I couldn’t find any available accommodation due to the rooms being occupied by permanent construction workers. I continued, hoping to find something, but eventually decided to call it a day as the traffic was downright dangerous. It took retracing my steps to where I saw a guesthouse much earlier in the day. Whew, it's time to look at the map again.

 

29 August - Khao Khan Song

Even though I say Khao Khan Song, I am not sure it is the name of the town, village or guesthouse as everything is written in Thai. I might have left too much in a hurry as a few outstanding tasks remained. Fortunately, just about anything can be done online. Since I had the luxury of a room with a chair and table as well as a veranda with a resident cat, I thought staying put was a good idea. My online business took the best part of the day, and once everything was done, it was already 5 p.m. and I ambled to the supermarket for my evening meal and beer.

 

30 August – Khao Khan Song – Bang Khla – 84 km

I saddled my old iron horse late in the morning and returned to the busy main road. Luckily, the road was new and had a generous shoulder almost as wide as the vehicle lanes. I veered off onto a smaller route only once, but my euphoria was short-lived as the path petered out.

I picked up a tailwind and blitzed it to charming Bang Khla, situated on the Bang Pakong River, without being rained on. That said, it started raining just as I cycled into town, and I pulled into the first available accommodation, resulting in my paying a tad more than usual, but I was rewarded with a lovely spacious room with aircon and hot water for $14. At least I was out of the madness and looking forward to the ride north, as there's plenty to see with a good mix of natural beauty and cultural heritage.

While enjoying a delicious plate of fried rice, it dawned on me that Thailand has its own table manners, similar to other cultures in the world and, fortunately, the rules of food etiquette are pretty simple. Spoons and forks are the main eating utensils in Thailand. Generally, in Thai, a spoon is called ‘chon’ and a fork ‘som’. The spoon is used to put food into the mouth, while the fork is used to scoop and arrange rice and food onto the spoon so it doesn’t fall off on its way to your mouth. Thai people mainly eat using a spoon and do not put a fork into their mouths. They don’t typically use a knife much while eating Thai food, as most dishes are served in bite-size pieces, so there is no need to use a knife.

 

31 August – Bang Kla – Nakhon Nayok – 90 km

In the morning, I first cycled a few kilometres to Wat Pho Bang Khla, believed to have been built during the reign of King Taksin the Great (between 1767 and 1782). The temple's architecture bears the influence of the Ayutthaya and Rattanakosin-period. The most interesting thing, though, is the temple's resident fruit bats, which reside in the trees within the temple grounds.

Next, I visited the floating market, which isn’t much of a floating market but rather resembles a food market on the banks of the river. My next stop was at Wat Pak Nam Jolo, another historical temple believed to have been built 200 years ago. From Bang Kla, a lovely ride took me along the Bang Pakong River.

Around midday, I felt hungry and stopped at a roadside shelter for a bite to eat. A very surprised lady quickly prepared a delicious meal of rice and spicy vegetables topped with a fried egg. All this happened without me speaking Thai or the lady any English. Hahaha!

Just before reaching Nakhon Nayok, I turned off to the ruins of the ancient town of Dong Lakhon. The area dates back from the ninth to eleventh centuries and not many remains of the structure except a well and a moat that surrounded the city. Still, it’s a lovely area to stroll about.

 

1 September – Nakhon Nayok – 50 km

I decided to extend my stay for an extra night and ventured into Khao Yai National Park in the hope of discovering stunning waterfalls. The park is enormous, covering over 2,000 square kilometres. Not only is it the oldest park in Thailand, but it’s also a UNESCO World Heritage Site.

Being a beautiful Sunday morning and the park's proximity to Bangkok, nothing came of my visions of enjoying my 7-Eleven sandwich next to a waterfall with just the soothing sounds of nature. Still, the area is undeniably beautiful. If I ever find myself in the vicinity again, I will cycle through one gate and exit through another - that way, I will see far more, and I’m sure it will be less crowded.

 

2 September – Nakhon Nayok – Pasak Chonlasit Dam – 106 km

I had a delightful ride along my chosen route, which followed the boundaries of the National Park and led me through small communities. In these communities, it seemed like all the women were either using a mortar and pestle or cooking up something delicious in a wok, some so potent it made me sneeze.

The road was lined with frangipani trees and the air was filled with the smell of freshly cut grass. I didn't have a specific plan or destination in mind, so I followed the signs to the Pasak Chonlasit Dam. Since it was a Monday, there was only one other cyclist and a couple from elsewhere in Thailand at the campsite. They later came and asked if they could have a picture with me. It seems like I must make quite an impression! LOL.

 

3 September – Pasak Chonlasit Dam – Sa Kruat - 88 km

I woke up early, as the other cyclist in the camp was up at an ungodly hour. If you've ever slept in a hiking hut, you probably know the sound of those plastic bags. I always want to ask, “What are you looking for?” Hahaha! Then he started listening to his music, which must have sounded quite soothing to him as he relaxed looking out over the dam. Unfortunately, sound travels very well in environments like that, so I was also up at the crack of dawn. LOL.

As I cycled over the dam wall, I felt immensely grateful to be out and heading in a direction I wasn’t quite sure where it would lead to. My path followed the eastern shores of the dam, which was quiet with just a few motorbikes, herds of buffalo, a snake, and a large Shongololo. I couldn’t wish for more. At midday, I stopped for a plate of fried rice, which is always an interesting affair due to my being a foreigner and, as they say, “only one.”

When threatening clouds rolled in, I called it quits at the next village, which I think is Sa Kruat, in the Si Thep district. The reason for stopping there was twofold, as I was toying with the idea of going to the Si Thep Historical Park in the morning, but was still undecided.

 

4 September – Sa Kruat – Windy Guesthouse. Si Thep - 30 km

I woke up early, feeling well-rested and decided to visit the nearby Si Thep Historical Park. This archaeological site covers the ancient city of Si Thep, which was inhabited from the third to fifth century CE until the thirteenth century. Si Thep was one of the largest city-states in the plains of Central Thailand. In 2023, it was added to the World Heritage List as The Ancient Town of Si Thep.

After visiting the park, I checked into a guesthouse across the road to do laundry and fix the slow leak in the back wheel of my bicycle. Later, I cycled 1.5 kilometres to a supermarket and unexpectedly got caught in a heavy downpour. I waited at a shelter for about 10 minutes before continuing to the shop in the sunshine. Weird.

There is quite a story behind my order of fried rice tonight. When the person running the guesthouse asked if I wanted food, I said, "Fried rice," thinking they might take orders there. Instead, he hopped on his motorbike and travelled about two kilometres to a restaurant to get the meal. He came back soaked but the food was still piping hot! I felt it was fair to give him $2.5 for a $1.25 meal, as where else in the world can you get a home-delivered meal for $2.50?

 

5 September – Windy Guesthouse, Si Thep – Haus Luneburg, Phakdi Chumphon – 88 km

I first rode to Wichian Buri to buy a new inner tube because I had discarded one and I like to keep two spares. The people there were incredibly friendly. They not only directed me to a shop where I could buy what I needed but also gave me two bottles of water. This was very helpful since I ended up needing more water than I had expected due to the heat and the steep climb.

Despite the high temperature, the ride was amazing. I couldn’t seem to stick to a main road, and I soon found myself on a narrow secondary road passing through small communities. After crossing the pass, I encountered an ice cream vendor and couldn't resist buying some. It was served with sticky rice, small scoops of ice cream, peanuts, and a dash of condensed milk!

Fuelled by the sugar, I sped down the road, where I came to a screeching halt at Haus Luneburg, a lovely guesthouse with a swimming pool. I didn't waste any time unloading the bike before jumping into the pool with a Chang beer in hand.

 

6 September - Haus Luneburg – Resort roadside cottages – 103 km

Again, I was blessed with a stunning ride. Route 2037 has been an absolute delight to cycle. My path was littered with tiny hamlets, always with a temple, a school and a market. Midway, the weather came in, and in bucketing rain I continued as it wasn’t cold. The rain soon abated, and I continued until spotting roadside cottages.

Even though it was early, it looked like more rain ahead, and I called it a day. Stopping so early also meant there wasn’t much to do, and I did the dreaded laundry and went in search of a tap to wash the mud from the bike.

 

7 - 8 September -Roadside cottage – Khon Kaen – 110 km

I think I wore a permanent grin today as it was yet another fantastic ride through the countryside. The weather was great, the rice paddies were green, the corn stood high, and I counted myself among the luckiest people on the planet. The kilometres ticked by effortlessly, and not even the village dogs gave chase. With a stiff breeze on my back, I ambled through numerous settlements and colourful temples until reaching Khon Kaen, where I planned to stay for two days to do the necessary chores.

The following day, I did the laundry at a laundromat directly outside my abode. Later, I strolled around the city lake, a pleasant, shaded walk past numerous temples. Afterwards, I cycled to the bike shop, which was a lovely surprise as it was well-stocked and professional. They adjusted the gears and also fitted an odometer.

By evening, I stopped at the night market, where I found little for vegetarians except some freshly made French fries. Fearing it wouldn’t be enough, I also bought a pizza, which cost the same as my room. Well, if you want to eat foreign food, it's always costly.

 

9 September – Kong Kaen – Roadside cottage – 110 km

I slept surprisingly well on the lumpy mattress, but what can one expect for 350THB? After getting up at six a.m., I was ready to roll at 8 a.m. and found the city far more substantial than I had imagined. The morning traffic was challenging, but I realised I was in Thailand when drivers stopped to let me across the road. Only in Thailand!

I soon found myself amongst the rice paddies with my music blearing far too loud. The ride was pleasant and interesting as I came upon the holy pond at Ku Ban Na Kham Noi. I learned that the structures surrounding the pond were used as a hospital during the reign of King Jayavarman VII (1177-1237) of the Khmer Empire. Then, I went on to the Cobra Village, but I didn’t linger as I didn’t think any animal wanted to be in captivity no matter how well they were treated.

Towards the end of the day, I veered off toward the main road, where one can find accommodation and other services. Once there, I found the road smooth as a baby’s bottom and pushed on a further 30 kilometres, even though I don’t like cycling on highways. When the weather came in, I pulled into the nearest guest accommodation and was pleased to find a cute 350THB bungalow. No lumpy mattress, and with air-con, fan, two bottles of water and clean bedding, I called it a bargain!

 

10 September – Roadside cottage to Ban Daeng - 100 km

I headed through the countryside and came upon a multitude of fascinating sites. Shortly after leaving, the map indicated a Monkey Park, and I investigated only to find an ordinary city park with outdoor gym equipment and volleyball courts overrun by monkeys. LOL. I don’t think anyone is using it, as the monkeys were a menace, and I didn’t dare leave the bike. So, it is a very aptly named Monkey Park.

Not much further was a large lake known as the Red Lotus Lake. I didn’t see any red lotus flowers; maybe their time was over, or there wasn’t enough water in the lake. Still, it was a peaceful ride along its shores and through rural villages where fishing seemed to be the main occupation.

Thirty kilometres or so later, I stumbled upon the remarkable Ban Chiang. The Ban Chiang Archaeological Site is a prehistoric human habitation and burial site. It is considered to be the most important prehistoric settlement discovered in Southeast Asia so far, marking the beginning and showing the development of the wet-rice culture typical of the region. The site has been dated by scientific chronometric means, which have established that the site was continuously occupied from 1495 BC until c. 900BC., making it the earliest scientifically dated prehistoric farming and habitation site in Southeast Asia known at the time of inscription onto the World Heritage List.

After leaving Ban Chiang, I made my way north toward the Laos border. My presence created quite a stir, and I had a distinct feeling that the area was seldom visited by foreigners. This was such a rural area that I never spotted any accommodation, and when it started raining, I pulled into the nearest Buddhist temple, where I asked if I could set up my tent. I was pointed to a large, covered area, and no sooner was the tent up and the lady monks started chanting. What a pleasant way to spend an evening.

 

11-12 September – Ban Daeng Temple – Nong Khai – 62 km

At three o'clock in the morning, the nuns were rummaging through their meagre belongings and by four, the chanting was in full swing. LOL. I was on the road by six, I’m sure it’s a record!

My first stop was at one of the food vendors, which is always an interesting experience. Riding was a wet affair, but I still reached Nong Khai before midday. My abode of choice was Mud Mee Guesthouse, a well-kept and inexpensive place right on the Mekong River. The guesthouse also has a lovely garden restaurant and coffee shop, and I paid for two nights as I felt tired. I did little of note for the rest of the day and, by evening, had a beer and a vegetarian green curry at the restaurant. A massive storm came in at night with loud thunder that shook the building! I was mighty pleased I wasn’t camping.

I slept in and, in the late morning, sauntered to the nearby supermarket to get a few items I may need in Laos. The day flew by, and I did nothing but stroll along the riverfront and watch the mighty Mekong flow by.

 

13 September – Nong Khai, Thailand – Vientiane, Laos – 29 km

As it was drizzling, I was in no hurry to get underway, so I chatted with the lady who owned the guesthouse. Eventually, I left and cycled to the Thailand immigration office, where checking out was easy. Entering Laos was slightly more complicated as I needed a visa, which usually is a breeze, but this time, they charged me $50 instead of $30. This was a scam, but there was little one could do about it, as it’s the immigration office.

Pissed off, I cycled into the city, with the result almost everything after that pissed me off. Still, I strolled to the riverfront, which was nearly flooded, as the Mekong was in full flood. Lots have changed since I was here six years prior, some for the better and some not.