Cycling around the West Baray

In desperate need of a bit of adventure again, we made a plan. Sunday, January 5th, 2025 — writing that down makes me realize how much I still need to catch up on — after a short 10-minute meditation to clear our heads, we decided to rent mountain bikes and cycle out to the West Baray.

But first: food.

We started with a slow, relaxed lunch in the lush gardens of Peace Café. Surrounded by greenery, shaded from the harsh sun. The place always feels like a small oasis of... Well, peace. Birds chirping, leaves rustling softly in the breeze. Coffee and fruit yoghurt in front of us. Light, fresh, exactly what we needed. A perfect start of the day.

Fueled and ready, we took the scenic route out of the city. Past the old airport again. A quiet stretch where nature is slowly reclaiming the runway. Then onto winding roads cutting through bright green rice fields, pagodas shimmering gold in the sunlight, and small local schools where kids waved as we passed.

We kept going without stopping, letting the rhythm of cycling take over, until we reached our usual hammock spot by the Baray. Almost automatically, we dropped into the hammocks. Coconuts in hand, a soft breeze coming off the water, the fabric gently swaying beneath us.

I called my parents, staring out over the water, listening to their voices from the other side of the world. Then we called Kiki’s mom too, sharing small updates. It turned into a full hour of doing nothing. It was perfect.

Getting back on the bikes was… less perfect. Our legs had stiffened, and the saddles felt a lot harder than before. The dusty road, full of potholes, didn’t help either. Still, we pushed on.

The further we went, the quieter it became. The road, sandy, and the surroundings more wild. Dense green forest closing in on both sides, a long brown track stretching ahead. Every now and then, a stray dog would appear, or a small wooden house tucked between the trees. Small reminders that we weren’t completely alone out there.

And then, out of nowhere, the road just… ended.

No warning. Just gone.

We stood there for a moment, looking at each other, then at Google Maps, then back at the forest. Of course.

We decided to continue on foot, pushing the bikes down a narrow, overgrown path. The ground was uneven, eroded, roots sticking out everywhere. Thick vegetation brushing against our legs. And in the back of my mind: snakes, scorpions, spiders… and yeah, landmines. Cambodia has a way of reminding you of that.

Best not to think about it too much. Ignorance really is bliss sometimes.

Eventually, after a sweaty, slightly tense descent, we reached the concrete road Google Maps had promised all along. Relief.

From there, it was a long ride back to Siem Reap.

The heat had built up by then. The sun relentless, the air thick with humidity. Every pedal stroke felt heavier. By the time we reached the city, we were exhausted.

We stopped for a snack. Then another. And… another. Before we knew it, it had turned into an early dinner.

We returned the bikes and stepped straight into the shower. Washing off layers of dust, sweat, and heat.

Later, we called Kiki’s grandma, making sure we hear from everyone regularly, even from afar. Then journaling, reflecting a bit, letting the day settle.

A slow, quiet evening.

Exactly what we needed.