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We set off on a long, very long, public bus journey to Kampong Cham. We had been warned about the varying quality of public buses but were pleasantly surprised on boarding. The air conditioning was blasting and we each had a seat. Unfortunately by the end of the journey, the inside of the bus was approximately 35 degrees and between us we had swatted around 20 mosquitos. It also didn't help that this was a 'karaoke' bus, which meant that the big TV screen at the front was constantly playing all your favourite Vietnamese classic tunes (with the words for added fun) at full blast.
A quick late lunch after we arrived then it was time for organised fun, this time in the form of a bike ride. Neither of us were particularly keen given the long, hot journey we'd all just undertaken. However sitting in an air conditioned room all afternoon, although tempting, seemed like a wasted day. So we mounted our retro steeds and headed off. Fortunately by late afternoon the air temperature had cooled from sweltering to hot. The cycle began with a pedal over a large bamboo bridge to a small island where a local village was. We all approached the bridge with trepidation as, although aesthetically it was very picturesque, we couldn't help but feel it may collapse at any minute. This feeling was helped when we were told it has to be rebuilt every year as it is destroyed every wet season (cutting off the village on the other side other than by boat). However, it was our only choice and so, tentatively we cycled across. Bouncing on the springy bamboo floor as we went. To our astonishment as we crossed there were cars driving in the opposite direction. The whole bridge seemed to sag under their weight but somehow never gave way.
Cycling through the village on the island was how we'd both imagined rural Cambodia to be. Simple stilt houses on dirt roads with the residents involved in all manner of different trades and farming. Animals littered the streets and exotic fruits grew wild in people's gardens. We had a good look round, tasting the fruits, drinking sugar cane juice and stumbling upon a c*** fight. As the sun set we headed back across the bridge, both glad we'd braved the heat for the afternoon.
That night we'd been invited to our cycle guide's house for dinner. We all squeezed into his home and sat on the floor of the room which doubled as bedroom and living area. His wife had prepared a delicious home cooked banquet for us and we spent the evening eating, drinking his home brewed rice wine (complete with tarantulas) and entertaining his children.
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