New Friends

In between the endless meetings and piles of paperwork, we met Kim and Stephan, a lovely couple from the Netherlands. We instantly felt at ease with them. Easy smiles, curious, up for anything. Naturally, within no time, we planned to go dirt biking together.

But first, teaching them how to drive.

We rented two dirt bikes and headed to the quiet street behind the school, a stretch of road we’d used before, dusty and mostly empty, with the occasional student or passing cow. I took Stephan as my passenger first, talking him through everything while doing it.
“Clutch in… first gear… slowly release… little gas…”

We did a few laps like that, the engine humming, dust kicking up behind us. Then it was his turn. A bit stiff at first, a bit jerky on the clutch, but he picked it up quickly. You could see the focus on his face slowly turn into confidence. Kim watched excitedly, smiling the whole time.

The next morning, we had agreed to leave early.

I was still halfway through my first coffee when, at exactly 7:45, there was a knock on the door. Kim stood there in full adventure mode, helmet, long sleeves, ready to go. Outside, Stephan was already on the bike, engine running, sitting there like he’d been doing this for years.

He looked very cool. Slightly intimidating, even.

We got ready quickly and headed out together. I drove first, with Kiki behind me. Stephan followed, with Kim as his passenger. We merged into the morning rush hour of Siem Reap. A moving puzzle of motorbikes, tuk-tuks, cars, and sudden stops.

To his credit, Stephan handled it well. Keeping his distance, staying calm, and flowing with the traffic instead of fighting it. Not easy if you’ve never driven here, or anything with gears, before.

As the city slowly faded behind us, the roads opened up. The air felt fresher, the noise softer. Rice fields stretched out on both sides, bright green under the morning sun. We rode past small villages, kids waving, dogs lazily crossing the road. Every now and then, we slowed down to take pictures or short videos, laughing, pointing things out to each other.

At the foot of Kulen Mountain, we stopped to refuel. The heat was already building, the smell of petrol mixing with dust and warm air. I quickly explained the next part to Stephan to avoid accidents.

“Low gears,” I said. “You’ll need them. Don’t rush it.”

The climb started.

The road tilted upward almost immediately. Tight turns, steep sections, the engine working harder. I kept my pace slow, checking the rearview mirror often.

Until, at one turn… they didn’t appear.

I slowed down, waited. Nothing.

After a couple of seconds that felt longer than they should, I turned the bike around and headed back down. A few bends later, I found them. They had stalled on a steep section, lost balance, and tipped over, not while riding, just standing still. The bike had been too heavy, the slope too steep. At one point, they even started rolling backwards while trying to restart.

Frustration was written all over Stephan’s face.

We took a breath. No rush.

We pushed the bike down to a slightly flatter patch of road. I walked him through it again, step by step. Clutch, ignition, throttle. Calm and steady. After a few attempts, the engine finally roared back to life.

This time, we followed them from behind.

Slowly, carefully, they made their way up. Turn by turn, meter by meter. And it worked.

Once we reached the top, the mood shifted again. Relief, laughter, a bit of pride. We continued, passing landmine warning signs along the roadside, small villages tucked into the trees, and eventually the familiar path toward the jungle.

The real adventure started there.

The road turned into sand and stone, winding through thick greenery. We crossed the river, water splashing up against the bikes, and continued deeper into the jungle. Stephan and Kim followed without hesitation now, navigating the uneven ground, rolling over rocks, adjusting to the loose sand.

They were doing really well.

When we reached the Learning Center, Meas came out to greet us, her face lighting up instantly. While Kiki sat down with her for a meeting, I showed Kim and Stephan around. Classrooms, materials, the space where everything happens.

We rearranged the desks together that were delivered a couple of days prior. Placing them in a half-circle facing the whiteboard. When Meas walked back in and saw it, she genuinely lit up. Smiling, almost floating across the room.

That moment stuck.

In the afternoon, we headed back. The light had softened slightly, and we wanted to be down the mountain before dark. The jungle track went smoothly this time, more confidence, less hesitation.

Halfway down, we stopped to refuel again. There was a shallow puddle nearby. Stephan rode through it a bit too casually, and the bike slipped out from under them.

Both of them landed in the mud.

There was a split second of silence… and then laughter. They stood up, completely fine, just covered in dirt from head to toe. It looked worse than it is.

They brushed it off, checked the bike, and continued.

By the time we got back to Siem Reap, the sky was starting to dim. We returned the bikes, tired, dusty, and still smiling from the day.

That evening was quiet. No plans, no noise. Just sitting, eating, and letting the day settle in.