Travels by Martha

Vietnam/Cambodia 2009

Whatever the meal, it could be washed down with a refreshing glass of snake wine.

There were some yummy roadside snacks on offer. Yes, the spider on this girl is real, and yes, it was meant to be eaten.

This is Russ. Russ is adventurous. Russ is eating turtle. And he seems to be enjoying it.

Photos were helpful. A serving of pig's groin, anyone?

After all that cycling, we worked up an appetite. This seemed a good place to eat.

Melanie just couldn't resist....

While the steps might have been difficult to navigate, the temples of Cambodia were incredible.

Unfortunately, going down the steps wasn't any easier.

Those bruises make climbing steep temple stairs a bit difficult. Sue encourages Mel to keep on going!

After all, Cambodian roads are dangerous. Check out this collection of bruises.

This cute little one wanted to join our group, but we weren't sure she was up for it.

The local people turned out to wish us well on our travels. The young people loved Julian. Julian is tall!

After setting out on the bike, she wasn't happy with the work they had done so she enlisted this crackerjack team of junior mechanics.

New country, new bikes. Mel supervises the Cambodian mechanics.

Mel smiles as she leaves Vietnam behind and sails on down the Mekong to Phnom Penh in Cambodia. She considered swimming to PP, but was tired from the cycling.

Better off to stick with the vegetables.

Thankfully we saw this sign before purchasing a mid-day snack. Who needs colic?!

These lovely girls were selling scrumptious looking cakes.

Hey, what is going on in this village? Girl power! Here is another lady doing all the work.

At last, a break from the cycling and we took to a boat to visit a floating village. Speaking of breaks, it seems that this man is enjoying a break while letting his wife do the physical labour.

We especially enjoyed finishing the day alive as we cycled on the Vietnamese equivalent of the M25.

We enjoyed meeting many of the local people as we cycled along country roads.

I guess this little girl can sleep through anything (and I wonder what Tet gift her daddy is carrying, while also driving his family on the scooter - no safety concerns there).

We spent a few days cycling the Mekong Delta, which involved a number of ferry crossings. Too say that we weren't alone on these ferry crossings would be putting it mildly.

When cycling to work in London, I don't often (ever) see the local mortician carting a coffin off on the back of his bike.

This girl wanted to join us on our travels, but couldn't keep up with our lightning speed.

Family van, Vietnamese style.

We even saw some dragon dancers while we were cycling away.

Back to the cycling, we had lots of company enroute. The locals were fascinated by the crazy foreigners on bicycles, pulling up close on their scooters to ask "where you come from?". The people in Vietnam and Cambodia were so friendly and welcoming.

Mark, one of the few on our trip who could actually do so without fear of being stuck permanently, followed the lead of the local guide and demonstrated how the Vietnamese were able to hide in the tunnels during the war.

Following the excitement of Tet, and with Mel's toes ready to face the world (or at least Vietnam), off we went to the Cu Chi Tunnels on our bicycles. (http://www.cuchitunnel.org.vn/content/index.php?lan=1). Within minutes, Louise was the first accident victim of the bike trip (those *£&$^! motorscooters), but our fearless leader Cheung was there to put her back together again.

On to the serious stuff. Melanie decided the best way to prepare for meeting her Vietnamese bicycle in the morning was to make sure her toes looked good. To think that her husband back in London thought she was slumming it. She decided, however, to give the facial hair plucking, available in the local market, a miss.

As a Canadian, I am used to snow on the ground when ringing in the New Year. These gents didn't seem too concerned by the lack of white fluffy stuff while enjoying a cold drink in the 30+ degree temperatures.