After enjoying a week of an actual vacation — the first we’d had in ages — snorkeling on an island, we were back to Phnom Penh for one last time to spend a couple of days buttoning things up before saying farewell to the city, and then making our way out of Cambodia and on to our next gig. But along the way, we’d take time to smell the lotus blossoms and indulge in some assorted high jinks and other jinks. This would include our first time to see Phare, (the Cambodian Circus) and a return to the phenomenal ruins of Angkor Wat.

On the day after our late-night arrival, we have lunch with a couple of our department heads from the school where we taught: our supervisor Lin, and the head of the Kindergarten (where Kimberly spent her mornings), Toudat. We have lunch at The Golden Pumpkin, a restaurant that we discovered fairly recently during our year in Phnom Penh. The food is once again excellent. And this time we decide to go for the “pumpkin dessert”, which is also quite rewarding.

We ride with them back to the school, to pick up a box and a bag containing a few things we’d stashed there while we were on our little island excursion. (There were also things we donated to them, such as an easel.) Kimberly gets quite a shock when she walks into her old classroom and sees that in our absence, the wall has been knocked out between it and the adjoining classroom to make one big classroom rather than two smaller ones.

As we exit through the lobby one last time toting our belongings, we pass the assembled throng of teachers and staff who are having an orientation for the new school year, beginning in just a few days — even though the previous one just ended. Schools in Cambodia get very little time off. As we stride past them, the principal speaking to them acknowledges us, and we say goodbye to our old co-workers. See you later, guys.

The next day, we meet up with another teacher, Sela, at a restaurant/ bar called Floatation, which is… well, floating, on some platforms on the river. As you might expect, the place specializes in fish — many people even come there and catch their own pieces of pisces. On this particular day, the fish are almost drowning because of the heavy downpour that swells the river to capacity. Despite the weather, Sela arrives on his motorbike, somewhat protected by heavy raingear. The restaurant, being keen on cuisine that features fins and scales, doesn’t offer a great deal to interest us, but we do spring for some cheesy and greasy pizza that is somewhat satisfactory.

Back at our Airbnb apartment, we unpack the bag and box we’ve retrieved from school, and discard the items we can live without. Amazingly, we find a place for everything else in our bags that are already so swollen they seem ready to go into labor at any minute.

The next morning, we’re off. As we’re getting into the tuk-tuk, Dennis scrapes the bead bracelet he’s wearing on the edge of the door, and it breaks, sending beads scattering. We each have such a bracelet that we were given by our staff as a farewell present. And now his was kaput already. And initially, we’re under the impression that the beads had fallen outside in the street, and are gone forever. But as we begin looking around inside the tuk-tuk, we start finding them in all kinds of nooks and crannies, and eventually recover (we believe) every single one. Maybe it’s a good omen.

As the tuk-tuk makes its way toward the bus terminal, we pass another tuk-tuk, who engages our driver in some kind of conversation. Later, we learn that this other driver had tried to persuade our driver to let him transport us instead. Why? Is there some kind of competition for our business? Who knows.

In any case, our driver deposits us at the bus terminal, where we have only a short wait to board a comfortable bus with good wi-fi aboard. And we are off, saying goodbye to Phnom Penh for good. Well, at least for another year.

A staff member for the bus company gives us all complimentary water and pastry for our 6-hour drive, But there will also be pit stops so we can obtain more provisions for the journey.

One of them is a rest stop, the first we recall seeing in Cambodia, with an antique tuk-tuk displayed out front with Mickey Mouse logos on it. Being at a rest stop brings back a flood of memories from our three decades of fulltime RV-ing in the U.S., during which time we graced a great many rest stops with our presence, often spending the night parked there. Some of them were scenes of rather memorable episodes.

Reminiscing about Rest Stops

In 1999 when we (including our son Zephyr) were performing at the Seattle Fringe Festival, we parked almost every night for about a week at a rest stop south of Seattle, and found a good spot there to do some rehearsing. Finally, a state trooper came by to ask us how much longer we’d be there. As it happened, the festival had just concluded, and we were getting ready to head out. We explained that we’d been hanging around because we were performing at the festival, and he said, “yeah, we saw you practicing on our cameras”.

Also in Washington, we saw the police arrest a man at gunpoint, and then release him shortly thereafter. Turned out he’d reported his car stolen, and then recovered it, but forgot to notify the authorities he had it back. So when the troopers spotted the stolen license at the rest stop, they assumed he was the thief rather than the owner.

And in California, just east of San Francisco, we awoke one morning to see the rest stop attendants and some firemen trying to open the door of a red pickup in which a man dressed in military fatigues was slumped against the door. It seems his nap ended up being longer than he planned — he apparently died in his sleep.

And oh yes, there was the night in Iowa when Zephyr, then 16, was talking on the phone outside the RV as we sat at a rest stop, and we thought he was talking (quietly) on the phone in the bathroom, as he often did, so we pulled away and left him. It was about 20 minutes later that we realized our mistake when the police pulled us over– he’d called to report the problem — and we hightailed it back. The two of us were rather shaken by the incident, but he thought it was hilarious.

On this particular journey, our pit stops offer neither drama nor comedy, but only interesting sights, sounds and smells. Especially the one where we stop long enough for the riders to have lunch at the restaurant. As we pack our own grub, we settle for buying a package of cashews in the gift shop to supplement what we already have. Outside, lo and behold, is a hammock; and Kimberly, the Queen of the Hammocks, takes advantage.

Late in the afternoon, we arrive at our destination, the tourist town of Siem Riep, which we spent a month in a couple of years earlier. We locate our Airbnb, Sothea Homestays, on a little alleyway off a major street. It’s a quiet, charming house with three separate apartments that are rented out to travelers. In front of our porch is a koi pond. It’s a pleasant place to stay for a week that we are really looking forward to.

8/31-9/2/2024