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Another long one i'm afraid - you might want to make yourself a cup of tea, or read in two sittings, hehe.

Everyone's heard of the book 'Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance', but I propose a new book 'Zen and the Art of How to Maintain a Stable Heartbeat on a Motorcycle'. I'm referring here to a few trips I've taken this past week, involving me, a motorcycle and the flashing of my life. When faced with sitting on the back of one that's travelling at 70kph, with no protection, on a track that's pretty much nothing more than slippery sand and holes the size of the Grand Canyon, I'm sure I wouldn't be alone in admitting to seeing my life's commentary in fast-motion.

The Motorcycle Diaries

Simon Wadsworth
2006-09-04 16:16:44

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Another long one i'm afraid - you might want to make yourself a cup of tea, or read in two sittings, hehe.

Everyone's heard of the book 'Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance', but I propose a new book 'Zen and the Art of How to Maintain a Stable Heartbeat on a Motorcycle'. I'm referring here to a few trips I've taken this past week, involving me, a motorcycle and the flashing of my life. When faced with sitting on the back of one that's travelling at 70kph, with no protection, on a track that's pretty much nothing more than slippery sand and holes the size of the Grand Canyon, I'm sure I wouldn't be alone in admitting to seeing my life's commentary in fast-motion.

Such a venture took up much of the day on a tour I went on in the Mondulkiri Province, north-east Cambodia, and was a very memorable day. Just me and my fun guide, Minui, we visited a number of places including a couple of waterfalls. 'Oh wow' I hear you cry, but considering Mondulkiri Province is the wild-east of Cambodia, deserterd, with a population of only 2ppl/km2, and a red, dusty, savannah landscape due to much deforestation (staining my clothes a lovely colour), the sight of some waterfalls in the dry season was actually quite something. However, agreed, it's not enough to make the day memorable. What was, was a visit to a local, minority, Muslim village, where I stuck out like a sore thumb, especially with my red dust covered face. An absolutely magical experience, not least because I was only the 2nd tourist to ever visit it, so they were just as happy to see me as I was to see them.

I mostly stayed at one house, with a couple of men, their wives, grandfather and kids, and the conversation seemed to change subjects as fast as Jonathan Ross's suits. With the help of Minui translating (before you wonder where I've been able to grasp the Cambodian language so quickly - nope, my vocabulary ...

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