Cambodian Landmine Museum and Village

Sad, very sad. We sure learnt a lot about the 60's & 70's in South east Asia. Television came to South Africa in 1975, so there was only radio to communicate about world affairs. No fb, u-tube or mobile phones. We were aware, but it was the other side of the world. In the 80's & 90's, we became more world wise, with Internet and TV, but we didn't really know what was happening.  Today we learnt what happened and how landmines and UXO's (unexploded ordnance) still disable thousands of people worldwide. It's terrible. This museum and village offers a home to  injured children, where they receive education, medical care and social rehabilitation. We hope our 10 dollar ticket helps a bit towards their plight and the brave people who clear landmine sites. The innovative home made armaments and bamboo pipe bombs, produced by the KhymerRouge, created horrific injuries to humans and beasts. No offroad riding, here.
We were on our way from the north east Thai/Cambodian border, heading to SiemReap. The day before we had ridden from KhongChiam, starting on big roads, riding as the crow flies, in a straightish path, the roads getting smaller and less well maintained.  It's getting near 4pm, time to start looking for a place to stayover. We see a handpainted sign, NatureHugArtCamp. Mmmm, this looks promising. We turn up the dirt road and meet two little girls aboard a scooter. Sleeping? We gesture.  They do a swift u-turn, waving follow us. 3kms later, through a rubber tree plantation we enter what looked like the workers' camp. Mmmm, not so promising after all. The head worker comes out, signals we must wait for the boss to give permission. We signal back, point to sun, point to watch and head off back down through the plantation to the tarmac road.
Rule number 3: NO ISOLATION, NO SEPARATION.
We need to get a move on, there only 2 hours before dark, the roads are getting worse. The potholes start appearing and B starts his Body English, aka 'Reading the Road'. This means moving your body weight to miss objects.  In his competition days, B was known as the untidiest Enduro Rider. Most Enduro riders stand on the pegs to manoeuvre  their bikes, B sits. He throws his body to the right and kicks legs left to add more counterbalance, when he needs the bike to veer right and visa versa. I sit straight upright in the middle like little miss Prim. At some point B laments, "I  wish this bike was a scrambler,  then with hard tyres we could ride over the top of the holes." Me, I 'm happy to Dawdle and Dodge, even with bum bones taking a pounding. He explains about tyre pressure and punctures. Its always a balance: on rough rocky terrain one needs to increase the tyre pressure to prevent punctures, but you lose grip. On sandy tracks, one tends to lower the pressure, but then can get caught out by a hidden stone that will puncture. Punctures cost valuable time in a competition and crunch knuckles.
We stop at a traffic light about 19kms from the border and do the 'sleeping? gesture ' to the man on a scooter alongside. He nods.  Nonchalantly whilst smoking, he carries on riding down the main road, we follow. The road turns into a construction site, earth moving machines on one side, cars and bike going both directions muddled up on the other side. Then he veers off down the newly laid concrete slab section, ah, this is better, bikes only here. Just before 6pm, fag number 5, we come to some bungalows, we wave goodbye.
Whoever / wherever you are, nice man, thank you.
Keen to reach the border we awake early in the morning and share our very ripe paw-paw with some guinea fowl. We always try to carry at least some padkos (picnic food), usually peanut butter sandwiches prepared before we set off.
The border crossing is easy. On enquiring about currency, the official states in order of importance,  "we take Dollar, Euro, Thai baht and Cambodian kip." Anything goes.
We start off on the one and only road to SiemReap, doing more Body English. Slowprogress and the road is rather isolated. We are quite relieved when we spot a roadside cafe, where we stop for coffee and noodle soup lunch. Never mind there are chickens scratching at our feet under the table. A shifty eyed bloke starts a conversation, maybe he's being friendly, but we don't feel comfortable. Bowing politely, we retreat onto the bike. Eventually we arrive at a temple site, bus after bus pull into the parking area. Three cute little girls, about 6 years old, start to hassle, one dollar, one postcard. We had received a leaflet of rules before entering Laos,  which included 'Do not give money to children, it encourage begging'. We applied the same here in Cambodia.
I enquired about a ticket to see the temple. No, we need to buy ticket at AngkorWat,  20 km away, group tour only. Really? We tootled off down the road, lined with stalls all identical. Rows of palm sugar candy, then rows of hats, then rows of beautiful identical cloths. No free enterprise here. We found this throughout the small corner of Cambodia that we visited, perhaps it is all like this. We don't know, we didn't fancy staying to find out. We drove around AngkorWat, not bothering to get in a group tour with zillions of viewers. It's big, it's impressive, but no magic here for us. We land up in SiemReap  and struggle to find a room within our budget( up to 12GBP per night per room) settling instead for a guest house at double our normal price. Peanut butter sandwiches for supper. Our impression is that there is a Master/Servant type system. The Very Rich, as in tour companies, big buses, etc and very poor, as in locals earning very little. We couldn't seem to find a middle class, free enterprise, self promotion. Come on guys, Communism and Colonialism are like grit in your eyes,  get rid of it! Start your own business.
Not too many smiling, friendly faces, either. Perhaps they are all still very sad.