38 years since we've ridden a motorcycle together (Ibiza 1973) but faced with all 12 pedal bikes already rented out and a very humid morning, why not?
Leaving a driving licence as security and putting a dollar's worth of petrol in we set off to explore.
Within 2 mins we were completely off the beaten track and passing miles of salt pans on one side and paddy fields on the other and meeting more buffalo than people. Our next destination was the pig village, located immediately beside the Muslim village! We saw plenty of Muslims but no pigs although there had been dozens the day before when we sped by in the tuc tuc and were returning to photograph them. We are still puzzling their disappearance.
Reluctantly we returned the bike and traded it for a taxi to take us back to Phnom Penh. A speeding, horn crazy driver with zero tolerance of motorcyclists, miles of road under construction and the migration of workers back to the city after the New Year celebrations did not make for a relaxing journey. The driver was deeply sceptical that we knew where we were heading and with less than a km to go he slowed to a crawl as we tried to cajole him with actions, encouragement and increasingly insistent instructions of 'yes, straight on'. He looked even more relieved than we were when we arrived!