The trip to Kep might be my single favorite travel experience to date. Mike and I decided to take bicycles, old rusty no geared bicycles whose handlebars my knees would hit on each rotation if I didn't pay attention, on the 50 kilometer (roundtrip) journey. My discomfort was more then made up for by the serene rural road and the throngs of children that it held. Cambodia's population is heavily skewed under 18.... to the sound of something like 50%. At seemingly every cluster of stilt houses that we passed there would be children ranging from around 3-12, smiling, waving, and yelling "hello" at the top of their lungs. We would reply in turn, and they loved every minute of it. Some kids that we would encounter on bikes would ride along with us for a minute or two trying out every english phrase they knew. The conversation would go something like this on their ends: "Hello how are you? Where are you from? How old are you? Where are you from? How old are you?" I would eventually say goodbye and escape the thouroughly pleased child. The smiles never faded from their faces or mine. We stopped a few times for Mike to take pictures (such as the above) and mini photo shoots accidentally went down. He would snap a pic, show the kids, and pandamonium would break loose. They loved it. Ridiculously rewarding experience.
Mike with one of his fan clubs.
The journey itself was the treat for me, but Kep didn't disapoint either. Once a beach town for well to-do Khmers, as well as a spot for Prince Sihanouk to entertain important guests, it was delivered to the elements by the war and the khmer rouge. Many of the fancy villas are now as shown above; burned out and squatter friendly.
Somebody's been helping themselves to the digs..
and doing a little re-decorating of their own.
The trip to Kep might be my single favorite travel experience to date. Mike and I decided to take bicycles, old rusty no geared bicycles whose handlebars my knees would hit on each rotation if I didn't pay attention, on the 50 kilometer (roundtrip) journey. My discomfort was more then made up for by the serene rural road and the throngs of children that it held. Cambodia's population is heavily skewed under 18.... to the sound of something like 50%. At seemingly every cluster of stilt houses that we passed there would be children ranging from around 3-12, smiling, waving, and yelling "hello" at the top of their lungs. We would reply in turn, and they loved every minute of it. Some kids that we would encounter on bikes would ride along with us for a minute or two trying out every english phrase they knew. The conversation would go something like this on their ends: "Hello how are you? Where are you from? How old are you? Where are you from? How old are you?" I would eventually say goodbye and escape the thouroughly pleased child. The smiles never faded from their faces or mine. We stopped a few times for Mike to take pictures (such as the above) and mini photo shoots accidentally went down. He would snap a pic, show the kids, and pandamonium would break loose. They loved it. Ridiculously rewarding experience.
Mike with one of his fan clubs.
The journey itself was the treat for me, but Kep didn't disapoint either. Once a beach town for well to-do Khmers, as well as a spot for Prince Sihanouk to entertain important guests, it was delivered to the elements by the war and the khmer rouge. Many of the fancy villas are now as shown above; burned out and squatter friendly. 
Somebody's been helping themselves to the digs..
and doing a little re-decorating of their own.
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