|Vietnam... it's a bridge :-)|
|Rubber plantation - Vietnam|
|Caidai temple (after a few drinks :-) struggling to load photos)|
To try and avoid a second onset of heat stroke decided not to wear my buff in my customary alice band style and resorted to what I believe is referred to as the sporty wee willie winkie look. This has the advantage of keeping my hair up, my head covered and most importantly allows all the massive amount of 'lady glow' to be soaked up by the buff. All I can say is that I think the buff has done a sterling job soaking up at least my body weight in water and I cannot imagine how bad it would have been without it.
This morning started having problems with my hands about 5kms into the ride; basically I am having to lean far further forward and lower than I would on my bike which is set up as a 'sit up and beg' this means I am putting more weight on my hands. This was being exacerbated by the fact that my saddle had been put on tilting forward which meant that I was having to push my bottom up the seat using my hands. I suspect that the Vietnamese cyclists had not realised that as ladies have a bit less padding at the front you generally have the seat parallel to the ground. By the first rest break the fingers in both hands had severe pins and needles, I had no feelings in my palms and my wrist felt like they were on fire. Established at this stop that nothing could be done about the height of the handlebars but at least the struggle had been registered for the set up on the Cambodian bike (we would change bikes at the border).
Around 10 am I was peddling along merrily, beetroot faced and with the start of eczema coming up on my upper lip when I was sexually harassed by a Vietnamese chap on a moped - he yelled 'you are very spicy girl' which made me laugh and wonder how terrible someone would need to look in order to not be a 'spicy girl'
Short photo stop at the Caodai Temple then onto the border arriving about 1030 ish. Crossing from Vietnam to Cambodia the difference between the countries was highlighted by the architecture.... on the Vietnamese side there was a concrete communist monlithic and on the Cambodia flaming stupas. That is not all that was different between the two countries - we left the Vietnamese side easily and entered onto our first attempt at entering Cambodia, all queueing up in terribly British style (allowing for our token Colonial from Oz and a German) at one of the five booths handling people coming in. We all had e-visas for Cambodia and this proved to be a bit of a mistake; once we had got through the initial crossing which handled 'traditional' visas we then all formed an orderly queue in front of the single e-visa desk to be checked on the single computer. Which took a little time. Once the first few had been checked we all thought that they would be able to enter Cambodia, but no. Rith (our Cambodian lead cyclist and one of the chaps who had manhandled me onto a veranda the previous day) swung into action. Our passports were all collected in and we walked out of the side door on the Cambodian side, round to the side we had just come from and hung around in no mans land waiting for our passports to come back. Which they did one by one over the next 40 mins or so and we got into the country eventually.
Our first Cambodian lunch was about 50m from the border and boy was it good but I had little appetite so just forced a little down. Over lunch I realised that while most of my hands had recovered my left thumb had swollen to about double size and no longer possessed the ability to bend. As I had a fantastic nights sleep the night before my brain was firing on all cyclindars and after a bit of a think realised that this was probably due to my thumb ring cutting off circulation. Congratulated myself on my Sherlock abilities and after a 10 minute soaping I managed to get the ring off....
|Tending the Fields|