Roma is in the Air!

Roma backwards spells "Amor".  Through her never ending and shockingly supernatural powers of observation, Morgan deduced this notion from an inside-out scarf hanging from neck of a passer-by.  And that has been the theme hear throughout Italy, Love.  Though our shamefully short tour of Italy was over in three days, we still got a descent taste of the infamous Italian culture.

The Colosseum rendured us speechless while the Sistine Chapel had us dreaming of lying on the floor while getting lost in our thoughts as we stared at Michelangelo's masterpiece. Though, had we yielded to our dreams we would have been trampled by the shoulder to shoulder stampede of tourists. Amazing how much traffic they let through the Vatican city.

To save money and the sheer fact that we are constrained by time, Morgan and I have been taking local buses around like a guided tour. We don't have a guide of course but the sights are breathtaking. And we might not get to go inside all of the churches, I mean cathedrals, now but we also know we well be coming back one day.

Florence was great, even in two hours. We just walked around getting lost and spontaneously amazed. Amazing buildings and cathedrals that seem impossible to have been built centuries ago. The early morning train from Rome had me craving gelato. So I indulged at 9 am. Now, I think Morgan is far more dissapointed with our time hanicap beacuse of the lack of exposure to the museums and historical attractions. But for me, the lack of time is eating away at my culinary exposure. Some of my favorite dishes will just have to wait for my return. But let me tell you, unreal pizza and pasta, ,obviously.

Venice is my favorite thus far. The interlinking canals, waterway foot bridges, and quaint movie-worthy hotel and restaurants have me enchanted. We opted out of the famous "gondola" tours and supplimented them for a cheap water taxi. It did the trick while leaving money for a nice river front dinner later on. Morgan is thrown by the late sunsets and plentiful wine. I enjoy the train rides that perview us to the rolling vine covered country sides. We were fined $50 euro for not filling out our "Eurail" passes properly. So that had me cursing under my breath for few minutes but I got over it. Perfect weather, perfect food, and perfect company has me smitten in Italy.  

Asian Blues

We started in Singapore at the Marina Mandrin, a lavish and expensive modern hotel. Coincidentally, we ended our Asian tour at an equally luxurious hotel in the Sukhumvit region of Bangkok, Thailand. And everything in between was equally as memorable, despite their comparitively lackluster amenities. We stayed in ice box cold air-con homestays, sweltering hot fan only rooms, and even some insect laden ones.  I remember squeeling like a child in the "toilet" after having slammed the bathroom door in Morgan's face while chasing around a giant hissing cockroach. From luxury in the massive cities to minimalistic island beach bungalows, Morgan and I have experienced it all.

I already miss the endless piles of rice. The curries, oh how I miss the curries. Green, yellow, red, or penang, life was so simple. Now I'm in Italy where the cheese and doughy delights have taken over. But more on that later.

Asia was third world, no doubt. But the magestic places, wonderful locals, and unpredictable cultural experiences are first class.  Amazing animals, world class surf, and paradise islands are but a few of the memorable highlights.

Morgan and I traveld through Singapore, Indonesia, Thailand, Cambodia, and Vietnam. Our last week was a mix of Halong Bay island cruising and Bangkok market eating, sugar glider petting, and endless clothes shopping meandering.  We didn't hit everything we had hoped to in Asia, but we also got much more than we bargained for.   

Is Vietnam the Motorbike Capital of the World?

Well, so far in my world it is. After a nice stay in Sihanoukville, Cambodia (a beachy kinda place where you take boat tours to exotic islands and drink beer out of a snorkel with the Bavarian captain) Morgan and I passed through the Cambodian capital Phnom Penh on our way to Ho Chi Minh City or Saigon. We took an overnight bus which got us to the boarder early in the morning. And it wasn't long after getting into Vietnam that we realized the motorbikes. We were passing the international airport of Saigon and there seemed to be a frontage road or some sort of designated motorbike road running parallel to us. It was like flowing water, a mud slide, or maybe a horizontal avalanche.

The amount of bikes roaming the city was shocking! If the busses, cars, and suv's were the boulders in the river then the motorbikes were the raging rapids. They passed on the left, the right, and I'm sure they'd go right over the top of you if they could. When you need a taxi you just hale a bike. Most likely some random guy looking for an extra buck, who knows? Morgs and I went to the War Memorial Museum in this manner. The guys turn into on coming traffic. And not just the wrong lane but head on into a stampead of Vietnamese. We tucked our knees in, I snapped off photos, and Morgan had this look on her face. I'm not nervous, just bewildered. They run red lights...but not without blurting their horns irradically. "I'm coming through, you can't stop me, and you better watch out" they seemed to say. You know that blonde joke with 4 of them at a four way stop at the same time...anyway, you get those scenarios. People are just cut throat. It's a bike eat bike world out here and if you aren't ready, you'll get swallowed.

Vietnam is the place where you see a dad with no helmet racing through the streets with his 6 year old helmetless daughter on the back, beeping through red lights, swerving into on coming traffic after dodging a stopped cargo truck in his lane, and doing it all while on his cell phone. Morgan and I didn't even mention it to each other. It seemed standard, normal, necessary even. I just took a mental note thinking it would be a good excerpt in my blog! 

I have riden a motorbike in every country I've visited in Asia.  Singapore doesn't count ;). I've been on the left side and the right side of the road. Gone over hills covered in mud, pot holes, and rocks. I've dodged cows, playing children, and kamakazi woman bikers with no headlights in the middle of night. And I'm so so thankful for all of these occurances becuase I'm not sure I could have survived in Vietnam on the bike without them. But if you need water or some snacks. If you want to visit a museum or the beach. If you need to get custom made clothes and shoes designed...you're better off renting a motorbike. They are cheap and super convenient. And ripping through Hanoi at night after the cinema is such a great and unforgettable experience. We were lost then found. Stopped and ate "pho" then went to the "fivimart" and grabbed snacks. We got lost and pulled over. Got found but then lost again. And finally, Morgan and I made it back to the Luxe Hotel on our red manual shifting motorbike. I just ate a box of "Jessica" sugar saltine crackers and wrote this blog...cheers Vietnam!

Floatation!

The lonely planet guide book of southeast asia specifically said and warned that this attraction has become a floating "scam." A tourist trap! Well, despite my agreeing with the book, it was still and will remain one of the my most memorable experiences on this trip. The entrance fees are dependant on your bargaining abilities and acompanied tuk tuk escort. Your picture is taken by an unsightly and heavy set local as you exit the large admission area. The tip jars are everywhere. And even knowing what you got yourself into, a trap, it's still amazing.

Your boat and captain is a matter of luck and of the size of your party. We, Morgan and I, had a long tail boat to ourselves, which was almost identical to the boat Sylvester Stallone drives in Rambo 4. A car engine is strapped to the boat, which is connected to a long drive shaft that turns the propeller. It's loud, vibrating, and spews out fumes. The water level was low, maybe one to two meters. You are forced to take the canal some 6 km's to the mouth of the river. The boats pass opposing traffic with mere inches on either side. We were expecting something like a vintage style floating WalMart from the way it sounded. Boy were we wrong.

The canal opens up to massive river. So big it seemed like an ocean. It was litteraly a floating village. The homes or house boats or whatever you call them weren't tied to one another. They boasted full kitchens, hammocks, and television sets. I was shocked when we saw the boat that had a couple hundred car batteries on the deck being charged by a gas powered generator, for the tv's! I didn't really understand the point of living on the water like that. I'm sure there is a reason. Maybe it's closer to the fish, tradition and habbit, or evading rent and taxes?

Boats were of a dark spectrum of colors. They were worn out by the sun and water, which was merky green and brown. Moss clung to the hulls. Every available space was utilized. Everything seemed to hang on the sides of the walls. Some of the homes were being tugged around to a new location. Others were up on bamboo stilts while their boat was being repaired.

So our guide boat, among many others, worked its way through the scattered floating homes to the end of the village. Then a few small canoe boats approached us. The mother, wearing a face mask, and here children, wielding descent sized boa constrictors, were beggin for money in exchange for photos. I spotted a large "o" ring pierced through the snakes' skin, presumeably to tie them up on the boats and to not lose them. Sad. Naked boys played in mud, or danced for photos, or rowed around in large tin tubs. All an act but quite a site.

Then we hopped off the boat onto the so called market. It was cramped and maybe 100 square feet. It was filled with massive 50 lb sacks of rice, 100 pack bundles of cereal, and other random cosco sized bulk goods. Why? Tourist market (locals don't set foot in this high priced store)...The owner explained that we could purchase a large item and take it over to the floating School and feed the children. A school of 200 plus students of whom 50 were orphans. So Morgan and I obliged. It was a great experience, one I'll never forget. Morgan walked around handing out individual cereal snacks to the kids. They crossed their arms, like an American boy does when he's upset and pouting, and bowed or kirtsied to say thank you. Morgan was ear to ear. I sat back a played camera-man. She was glowing. Then we were let off at the fish cage and crocodile pin. Slopping around in the mud and water, these guys were surely just part of the act.

Morgan and I got off the boat and ascended the 50 some odd stairs up to the tourist building. We were approached by a woman with an ashtray or dish or something that had Morgan's and my photo stuck to it. We hopped back into our awaiting tuk tuk and headed back to Siem Reap, some 13 km's away.

One night in Nha Trang, Viet Nam

The writing fever finally made itself to a public place so here's my contribution... Sitting at a desk on the fifth floor of a hotel in Nha Trang. It's almost 11pm here on a Tuesday night. I rub my forearm back and forth against the desk as to avoid my overwhelming desire to put the five long nails on my left hand to good use. To dig them miles deep into the mosquito's conquering heap that so politely is sure to leave a scar. Maybe? The mosquitoes here in Vietnam have been much kinder than those in Indonesia and Thailand...and Cambodia. I can't believe I have come this far. I am even further from believing that life back home will be what it before was. In few ways surely but in many ways that count, different. I resist the scratching and go for a lonnggggg deeeepppp inhale/exhale instead. I love it here!!!!!!! I love traveling, exploring...Jay and I just walked back from the beach where we dangled our feet from our concrete seats made of wall and watched the litters of youngens rollerblading and laughing. People seem so happy here. Dad's walk their babies in the dark and Mom's walk around barefoot with their baby's in one arm and a to go container that alternately feeds the two pinched in hand. Before the park we walked through a night market. It felt like a carnival. In spirit of, Jay and I got cold drinks (Jay got his favorite Mango and Banana mixture and I went for the Iced Thai Tea which served as a duly functioning treat with loads of colorful tapioca squares mixed in)...Jay got a noodle veggie dish with phenomenal little bitlets of celery mixed in and I went for a long shot and slowly ordered with intention, "Crawwkk-O-. Please" and bowed my head. He repeated, suggested rice, and I went for a veggie mix instead. The croc was good!! I asked Jay if it could have possibly been chicken. "No, it's definitely more gamey." Anytime one gets to use the word 'gamey' is a night to remember. Or at least worth taking the time to pick up blogging again...I only managed three bites but the green bell pepper had a particular perfection to it and I walked away satisfied.  Right by the stand where we ate dinner was a bridge...not just any random in the middle of a night market bridge...this bridge carried it's own full time television series. Not that anyone was getting paid but the drama seemed centered around this bridge in such a way that we witnessed a hoochily dressed bon voyage hat wearing local number snapping away pictures of herself perched atop the bridge...then a teenage daughter being yelled at and chased through the crowd by her irate mother...then chased back in the other direction where there is a brief PAUSE mid scene to reveal a younger brother whom directly seems to earn an open handed echoing SLAP across somewhere...then a younger gent crosses the bridge in his suit...the five children look for frogs in the pool of water under the bridge (it was made for something, right?)...and as we turned our backs to the script that we so surely fit into...a family of many put on smiles as they lined up for a photo. We made our way passed the stands of colorful glitzy this and that's of nothing with a few wood carving too expensives and too big to carries...Jay seems to meet his polar opposite and, hips first, pulls toward a stand with a million glitz and jingles. I see his eyes meet the stack of jade bracelets and I'm flattered that he so badly wants to spoil me. Back at home, when my Mom takes me to get my nails done (missing that ever so slightly ,-)) there is a Vietnamese woman named Lani that sometimes does my nails. Pronounced Lan (like Pan) i (be excited...eeeeeeee!!) Lani. She's such a doll and knows exactly how to use that shaper to really give your toes the not too long/not just cut look. Those hands work magic. If you could only see...ok, I'm getting sidetracked...anyway, she has this bracelet that I was instantly drawn to the first time I met her. After asking her about it, she explained that her mother put it on her when she was a baby. She has worn this stone ring around her left wrist her entire life!! Her mother got really sick at the end of last year and she was able to get back to Vietnam to see her one more time before she passed. She says that she carries her past in the bracelet and that it brings her luck in the future! I knew my mom had a jade bracelet so after months of planting seeds and dropping hints, I finally got that beauty around my wrist. Unfortunately, if the bracelet is  a little bit too big, their demise is soon to follow...and mine was. After telling Jay my story and giving a glance to every jade bracelet I have come across, Jay apparently had enough and was even more determined than I was to find the perfect one. SOooo, it was no wonder Jay was so drawn to this particular stand...It had the PERFECT JADE BRACELET!!!!!!! What a sweetheart, he pulled out his wallet and the Vietnamese girl around my age grabbed my wrist and pulled me a few stalls over where we pushed through the crowd and over some big metal sink behind some stand. Jay was no where in sight and before I knew it, I had my left hand covered in plastic, then water and next dish soap... then two Vietnamese professionals giving all of there might to this new tattoo of mine yanking and pulling. My hand was turning purple and my fingers seemed to all mush together, there was plastic slipping and moans and grunts...I'm quite sure the nearby Aussie needed a new battery because of the sluggish second hand on his wrist watch ticking at an ever so daunting and lagging pace...The girls kept working...I was certain this thing was simply too small for me. Nope, these girls have stamina and confidence like no other and before I knew it...I had myself one good looking bracelet. On. Just like that. And the Aussie's battery didn't need changing after all. I love it!! (My bracelet.) There are still red marks on my hand but the five or so minutes of struggle were worth every ounce of the pleasure this stone has already brought to me.  We've been meeting the most fun people, seeing the sights, learning the struggles that the Vietnamese faced (and still face) from the war against the US...I got a ride on a motorbike by a local that discussed Tim O'Brien with me...(discussing any topic with a local is very challenging and this gent knew the likings of an American author)...We've been riding on strange buses and sleeping in strange beds. We have been reading and playing cards, sharing life stories and finding new reasons to step out of our comfort zones. It's nice, life this way...I can honestly find nothing more than gratitude. For this experience, for all of the luxuries at home. It's good. Really good.

Temples in Cambodia

It's a swirling soup bowl of tourists.  And for every tourist there must be three tuk tuk drivers, two prostituting masseuses, and an equal amount of money-begging infant-holding 10 year olds roaming the streets barefoot. Culture shock to say the least. I've said this a few times on this trip but the adjustment process after switching countries can be shocking! The local food, as we read in the guide book, was fresh water fish in soup. Hardley our style, "fish amok" reminded me of mucky water back home in the duck ponds. It just sounded bad, looked ominous with those fish heads and bones, and yet it smelt descent.  All in all, we tried it, didn't love it, and didn't give it another chance.

The big draw to Cambodia, of course, was the famous temples of Angkor Wat. Built during the 14th century, correct me if I'm wrong, and still standing in moderate condition today. Though the recent civil war battles in the 90's resulted in the beheading of many of the statues, the temples were splendid. Lots and lots of tourists crowded the pond outside the main attraction, which was the cliche yet ideal location for the morning sunrise. Morgan and I hired a tuk tuk driver for the day, a measily $13 arrangment.

A side note. you have to be on your toes, especially in high traffic tourist areas. Tourists have money and under the principles of "perfect competition" you must know the bargaining power you posses. Many tourists, and I'll go so far to say especially the older ones (who have the coin), cause prices for services to be inflated because of their willingness to fork over the cash.  So the tuk tuk driver who wishes to start at $20 per person for the day gets a cold shoulder from me and no privelage of negotiating further. I take offense to their greed. It's not a matter of money, and never is, but rather of principal. I'm more than willing to pay the going rate for services rendered and even more willing to refuse at the onset of deception. Ok, ok, I'm done ranting. It was obviously an ordeal here in Siem Reap.  And if we had been approached by the honest, funny, and witty "Batman" tuk tuk driver a day earlier, we would have happily emplored his experience.

The temples, well the three main ones Morgan and I visited, were similar in that they were all made in sand stone but differed in character. It was fun walking the steps. We made blessings by giving thanks to our families and lit an incense at the foot of buddha. It was odd because you could feel the age, the power, and peace  in the air. But you are torn. The seriousness of it all was trumped by locals offering lattes near the pond at dawn, laughing and loud bantering of the tourists, and endless tugging, nudging, and impeeding of the cart vendors. The monkeys were cool. But oddley they were shewed away by the vendors too? 

My favorite moment was witnessing Morgan take calm as she meditated in front of the giant gold sash wearing buddha. There was a group of locals sitting directly next to the statue and were offering us, from a great distance, some sort of craft or service. But once they saw Morgan take peace, cross her legs, and free her mind, they showed respect. As if they felt guilty for having been so presumptuous for bundeling us into the "ungrateful tourist pile", the locals gave awknowledgment and nodded as Morgan rose. I couldn't control my smerk for my pride was overwhelming. Morgan managed to push aside the touristic Disenyland mentality so prevelent here and grounded herself in a classy and dignified manner. It made me proud.

We finished in a temple where the trees literally were growing out of the toops of the sandstone. It wasn't little shrubs either. Giant canopies resided above as we wandered through the maze of interconnecting corridors. Ducking overhangs and stepping over door bases as if we were navigating the inner linning of a submarine, we fared the labyrinth looking for memorable photo opportunities. Though it ws difficult to get a shot without someone in the background, we managed to capture much of the feel and beauty.  The movie "Tomb Raider" was filmed in this section of the  temples and made for an amuzement line for photo ops'.

The intricacy and detailed workmanship of the stone temples is unimaginable. Every piller, step, and doorway has been paistakingly handcrafted and detailed in some pattern. The time, dedication, and sheer number of man hours is really tough to relate to. I was amazed at the craftsmanship and will always remeber my experience at Angkor Wat.     

34 Hour Voyage to Cambodia!

It seemed like a simple and straight forward overnight bus ride to Bangkok with an early morning transfer to the Cambodian boarder. Little did we know..

It was nice that Morgan and I didn't have to get up early. The ferry from Koh Phangan didn't leave until noon, giving us plenty of time to pack, to get a meal, and to walk a mile to the Thong Sala port.  We knew it was just the day after the infamous Full moon party, so it was predicted to be quite hectic. Most of the island partiers leave for their next vacation destination, which means all of the travel prices are boosted for a week after the full moon. 

Everything appeared normal. Lots and lots of people, young tourists mostly. Ticket lines were long, taxi's were bussily shuttling around the crowds, and street venders were imminent. The effects of the heavy drinking festivities couldn't be missed. Lots of gauze bandaged feet, some poor saps on crutches, and plenty of dark sunglass wearing kids still batteling the seemlessly neverending hangovers. Right on schedule and exactly how we invisioned it.

The sun was out and a nice breeze was keeping us all cool. But it wasn't until we were on the boat that things really started to get interesting. Yeah the boat was an hour late but that's to be expected with the busy transfer day. Well, it was actually due to something else. 10 foot sloshing sea swells, obviuosly resulting from all of the storms during the past few days, were causing the captain to heed precaution thank god! The boat was headed to nearby Koh Samui, just an hour jaunt normally. But do to the angle of the swell direction and the necessary path to the sister island, the boat was recklessly swaying back and forth. Not so much as an up down feeling as it was an up and tip sidways sensation. The waves were hitting from the right side, massive waves. The boat was full and luckily we were the second people on, thus having interior air conditioned seats. But the poor dark glasses wearing types were stuck on the deck. Clinging for dear life, getting faced by sea water, and slipping along the deck, their hangover was surely lifting. The front of the boat would lift and on the way down the entire cabin harmoniously and nervously moaned "Whoooooaaa."  Morgan and I sat in the front of twenty rows of seats, directly in front of the TV. But we were all so fixated on the tumultuous seas that no one managed to hit play and the intro theme song to some arbitrary hollywood dudd looped for two hours.

The dock at Koh Samui was a sight for soar eyes.  The transfer wasn't long, just had to get the island hoppers off and the mainland seekers on.  A group of three British bloaks sat down near us. They asked how our trip over was. We explained.  Then they trumped us! "Yeah mate, so the hole cabin thought we were going to sink. The crew lifted some of the wooden floor boards and began welding the hull shut I guess. Water was flooding into the boat, it was crazy mate!" I guess we were on the lucky boat?

Eventually, our ferry, Only two hours late, managed to get us to the port on the mainland where the transfer buses were waiting to take us to Surat Thani. An hour and only one random 10 minute stop later, we turned right onto a dirt road that led to the private termial.  Right on the brown river and with plenty of standing rain water, the mozzies were buzzing. Morgan lathered a nice coat of 80% deet on and i slipped into some long pants and sleeves. The sun had set and we had only eaten breakfast at 10 am. Well it was breakfast time, though i had panang curry and rice, so delicious. 

After grabbing a 2 dollar heap of fried rice we waited patiently for bus number 2 to Bangkok.  The island dude who sold us our combination ferry/bus tickets gave us a pointer. I was to stay back with the two heavy travel backpacks while Morgan stays near the front with the daypack. The idea was for her to be the first one on the bus so as to secure the best seats, right in front on the top deck where the leg room is plentiful and the ride is smooth. Mission accomplished! Morgan was throwing elbows and after putting up with that days mayham, she meant business.

It was a descent overnight bus. The seats reclined a little and it had air conditioning. Just happy to be moving towards our destination, Morgan and I fell asleep. Well I did, like a baby after a whiskey milk, but Morgan had a cold and didn't fare as well. The 1 am stop at the cockroah infested food court was probably pointless but we ate anyways. A bowl of Veggie noodle soup and a hair too much spice. I always add too much and end up with a dripping nose, watering eyes, and Morgan laughing at my dietary plight. 

It was 9 am and the bus pulled off the freeway near some random park. It wasn't the 5 AM bus tereminal tranfer to the 7AM departing boarder bus from the McDonald's accross the street. It was a random Bangkok local who called out "Cambodia" from within the bus. I grabbed the big bags and Morgan secured our plush seats in...yup, the minivan! A lot nicer than a bus, just a different experience than we were told.  Us, a Candaian French couple, and four bro's from UC Berkeley.  The Berkeley boys were our 6th Americans we've seen in Asia. Nice to speak on common grounds for a bit.

Our carravan was zooming down the freeway. It was rainy in busy Bangkok. The roads were nice and modern, silver Mercedes weren't rare, and LA like traffic persisted. I didn't really notice the irrattic driving of our minivan captain but the Berkeley guys seemed to. Next thing I knew the driver the hit the breaks, Berkeley said "whoa!!", and Morgan & I slid into the seat infront of us...SMASH/BOOM!..."You ok, is everyone ok?" Asked the Berkeley dude with long blond hair. We were all fine, it wasn't bad, a slight fender bender involving two vehicles. Us and a hybrid Camrey driven by a business shirt wearing Bangkok'ian.

A passanger from the Camrey hopped into the minivan as both cars drove off the freeway, down a random street exit, and 10 minutes to a nowhere-near gas station. It took about an hour but the insurance crews handled everything very professionaly to my surprise. If you were to tell me about a traffic collision in Bangkok I would have invisioned a high speed pursuit ending in a dark, wet, and cramped alley by police gunfire! Luckily it was a very civilized ordeal.  The only weird things were the random gas station, the seemingly happy/smiling collided drivers, and the fact that the passangers had to exit the vehicle as it was filled with propane or something (not gasoline) from under the hood because it was dangerous for us? I don't know but we survived, kept traveling towards Cambodia, and buckled up this time.

Cambodia was another shocker, though more culturally than anything. Dropped off by the van at the boarder at the front door staps of a random restaurant. Some 50 year old Australian hippie chick was walking around with 5$ bag of crickets offering them out. Our new Cambodian boarder crossing escorts had a bit more attitude and seemed to very much disliked the Berkeley boy's immigration visa requests (to print them out at the restaurant before paying the rest of their fare).  We crossed the boarder, bought our visa upon arrivals, and got into another bus that took us to the official bus terminal. Then our escort proposed we take a private minivan for an extra 6$ a piece that would save us an hour over the bus ride. We obliged despite it feeling like a scam (which I think it was).

I starting freaking out! The driver was on the left and he took off down the road on the wrong side of the street.....wait! It's like America, the right side now. I knew it was like back home but it felt so weird. I had been driving for over a month on the left side and now it feels weird to switch again. Not sure how long it will take before it seems normal again?

The country is much poorer. The roads are dirt swept like in Peru and Bolivia.  The cars pass motorbikes and honk their horns relentlessly.  And everyone drives 100kmph over the speed limit. Aside from hopping into a tuk-tuk and securing accomodation in Angkor Siem Reap, Cambodia was effortless! Now for some sunrise temple tourism!