Cycling in the Angkor Area

We woke up later than usual. A well-earned Sunday morning where nothing feels rushed. Coffee first. Always. The air already warm. Quiet.

We packed our bags slowly. Camel bags filled, essentials thrown in without overthinking it.

Today, we're finally going to use our Angkor passes.

We cycled to New York Bagels for brunch, easing into the day, as a proper Sunday demands.

We stayed longer than planned. Coffee turned into more coffee. Journals opened, pages filled. I read a few chapters of Prisoners of Geography, a great read if you are interested in geopolitics, geography, and history. It makes you look at maps differently and explains everything that is happening in the world, and makes a good attempt at explaining the reasons why it is happening.

We chatted with the owner, unhurried.

Eventually, we got back on the bikes and followed the river out of the city, the traffic thinning, the noise fading behind us.

At the entrance, we stopped for a second, pulling out our brand-new Angkor passes. Proudly showing it to the ticket officers standing guard at the park's entrance. Next to the massive stone guards, protecting the ancient capital's gates.

A small moment, but it felt like unlocking something.

We rode in, ceremoniously, and the temperature dropped instantly. The jungle wrapped itself around the road, thick and green. Shade. Relief. One of the biggest luxuries out there.

We passed Angkor Wat without stopping. Catching glimpses of its towers through the trees. Barely visible.

Further ahead, we circled Bayon Temple, the giant stone faces watching from every angle. Calm and unmoving.

We kept riding, climbing onto the ancient city walls of Angkor Thom. The path there feels almost secret. No tourists, just the occasional group of locals picnicking and snoozing in hammocks. More silence. Just the sound of tires on dirt and the occasional bird cutting through the stillness.

We passed by different gates, each one carrying its own quiet presence. The Gate of the Dead remains my favorite.

It’s quieter there. Almost forgotten. And if you’re lucky, you’ll spot the otters recently released in a nearby creek. Quick, playful, gone before you really register them.

Nature is slowly reclaiming everything. Roots crawling over stone. Trees growing through walls. Small temples half-swallowed by the jungle. Yet, it doesn’t feel abandoned. It's like it’s returning to its original state.

By then, the heat had caught up with us.

The sun pressed down harder, the air heavier. Our legs started to feel it too. A slow, creeping exhaustion after hours of riding through the jungle. Dirt roads, tree roots, and loose stones scattered from the ancient wall.

We pulled over at a small roadside stand.

Cold coconut in hand, sitting on a plastic chair, sweat drying in the shade.

With our last bits of energy and refueled by the cold coconut water, we continued our tour and arrived back in the city as the light started to soften again.

Both of us a little drained but satisfied.

We treated ourselves properly: dinner, followed by cake from The Muffin Man. And to finish it off, a massage. Muscles finally letting go of the day.

Life is good.