Almost Somewhere

By Anton Swanepoel

Would you like to explore Cambodia and Vietnam?
Follow me as I make my way from Siem Reap in Cambodia to Saigon in Vietnam, and then all the way up to Hanoi and back to Cambodia. Share in the laughs, scares and adventures I encountered, and marvel at the landscape with included pictures and links to videos I took along the way.

A dream is a living thing. The more thought you give it, the stronger it gets, until it becomes an obsession. For a long time, I have dreamed of riding a motorcycle from the bottom of USA near Miami on route 56 and go all the way up as far as I can. However, funding kept that dream a bit at bay for now. Being in Cambodia, I decided I would do the next-best thing, motorcycle from Saigon (Ho Chi Minh) to Hanoi. For added effect, I decided to cross over to Laos near Hanoi, and then come down through Laos back into Cambodia. That was the plan, but plans do not always work out, as we want them to.

Contained in the text:
Over 100 pictures of Vietnam and items along the Ho Chi Minh Road
Links to videos i took on my travels
Historical facts of attractions i visit on my tour
Blow by blow account of over 2400 km on a scooter through Vietnam, including bus rides in Cambodia and riding the train back from Hanoi to Saigon.

If you want to experiance what it is like to motorbike Vietnam, then This Book is For You

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• Language: English
• Publisher: Anton Swanepoel
• Release date: Jan 5, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370489527

Anton Swanepoel

Adventurer and world traveler, Anton Swanepoel, hales originally from Pretoria, South Africa, but has called a number of exotic locations home. Educated as a software engineer, he worked for a large multinational company before deciding to travel the globe. Along life's journey, Anton became a skilled scuba diver and technical diving instructor, teaching for seven years while living in the Cayman Islands. His resume touts Tri-Mix instructor levels from multiple licensing agencies, and dive records over 400 feet.Mr. Swanepoel has always loved travel and writing. In the past several years he's combined these passions, authoring and publishing a host of books, sharing secrets he's learned along the way. When he's not exploring an underwater landscape or racing a motorcycle down a stretch of highway, you'll find Anton visiting world destinations and chronicling his experiences.Today, he is a fulltime globetrotter and writer, having penned instructional guides for diving and travel, as well as a pair of fictional novels. His excurtion titles are geared toward do-it-yourself travelers, who enjoy saving money and seeing the out-of-way places. His favorite destinations include, Machu Picchu, the mountains of Vietnam, and the Temples at Angkor Wat.

Book preview

A dream is a living thing. The more thought you give it, the stronger it gets, until it becomes an obsession. Follow me as I make my way from Siem Reap in Cambodia to Saigon in Vietnam, and then all the way up to Hanoi and back to Cambodia. Share in the laughs, scares and adventures I encountered, and marvel at the landscape with included pictures and links to videos I took along the way.

Disclaimer

The conversations I include within the text are as close as my memory goes to the words the people used at the time. Although they may not have said every word exactly as I write it, it remains true to the spirit of the conversation and as best, I can remember. Note that in the text, I use motorcycle, but in conversations, I use motorbike as it is the term used mostly by the people I encountered on my travels, as to the term I use myself.

Not many Asians can speak fluent English, and when conversations are quoted, I have left their broken English as is to give a more authentic feel. Additionally, as this is a travel book reflecting my experiences, I have opted for a South African English tone and grammar as is standard for me rather than changing my words to an American or UK English. I feel it brings my character more out and enhances the experiences I had, as well as allowing you the reader to more connect with the adventure and story. For the grammar faint of heart readers, I apologize, and hope the stunning pictures in the book make up for it. 

Table of Contents

Introduction

Disclaimer

Chapter 1: The Planning

Chapter 2: Where Is My Tuk Tuk?

Chapter 3: What, You Have No Visa

Chapter 4: Anyone for a Cockroach?

Chapter 5: Shocking Experience

Chapter 6: Motorcycle Hunting

Chapter 7: Ferry Ride

Chapter 8: Meeting a Dragon

Chapter 9: Dancing To Elvis

Chapter 10: Is There a Mechanic In The Room?

Chapter 11: Please Kill Me Now

Chapter 12: Ninja Cops

Chapter 13: Lights Out

Chapter 14: Priorities

Chapter 15: We Hate You

Chapter 16: Making Friends

Chapter 17: Is It Worth It Going On?

Chapter 18: Caves and More

Chapter 19: Drive Slower

Chapter 20: NASA Lied and Hell Ride

Chapter 21: Meeting Big Boss

Chapter 22: Ha Long Bay

Chapter 23: Ancient Town

Chapter 24: Perfumed Pagoda

Chapter 25: Swallowing a Live Dragon

Chapter 26: Are We There Yet?

Chapter 27: My Precious

Chapter 28: You Want To Put What On The Bus?

Chapter 29: Home Sweet Home

About the Author

More Books by Anton

Chapter 1: The Planning

Leaning back in my chair, I clench my jaw for a moment and then take a deep relaxing breath. Two weeks of searching the Internet for information on motorcycling through Vietnam has resulted in almost no usable information. Most of what I have found is very vague on the routes to take, as well as what motorcycle to purchase and where. Many of the websites or blog posts also conflict with each other, as well as every person and his grandmother want to give advice on motorcycling through Vietnam, while few have made a trip from Saigon to Hanoi, and some have never even been to Vietnam.

Coffee aroma reminds me of my cup of delight on the table. I take another sip while glancing through the large glass wall to my right. Luck café on the second floor in Lucky mall, Siem Reap, is one of my favorite places to write. Below me, tourists rush down Sivatha Boulevard towards Angkor Wat Temple, Cambodia’s best-known temple.

Returning my attention to my computer, I glance over the notes that I have taken. I found a few web pages for motorcycle shops in Vietnam. Some give tidbits of useable information and then promise to give you all the information you need to do a tour from Saigon to Hanoi on the Ho Chi Minh road, if you buy a motorcycle from them, at a premium price.

Downing the last bit of coffee, I make my mind up that I have had enough. I have backpacked through Cambodia for months now, winging it all the way. I am going to take a bus to Saigon, and then purchase a motorcycle there. Then, I am going to get on the famous Ho Chi Minh road and head towards Hanoi. Whatever happens along the way, I will deal with it as it comes. Nothing is going to stop me from exploring Vietnam on a motorcycle. I just have to find out what motorcycle to buy, and where.

The Honda Win 100 and 110cc motorcycle are popular amongst backpackers touring Vietnam. This single piston air-cooled motorcycle is rugged and reliable, with parts readily available. However, having owned both of those motorcycles, I will not buy another one. Honda stopped making these models years ago. Those sold today are mostly fake Chinese copies of inferior quality or beat-up old models. Real Honda Wins in good condition are hard to find and expensive.

The fake models are very unreliable with constant electrical problems, engine breakdowns, poor brakes and crap suspensions. The hassle you get is just not worth the few bucks you save by getting a fake one. The newer models from Honda have a larger engine, but are too expensive. One of the motorcycle shops in Vietnam listed a Honda Bonus 125cc for sale. Although the price tag of $600 is a bit more than the $400 I was hoping to spend, I love the motorcycle. For a full nanosecond, I ponder if I should go for it. My fingers race over my laptop’s keyboard as I email the shop, asking them if they can hold the motorcycle for me until I get to Vietnam in a few days. With the email sent, I start to work on the other details of my trip, my Vietnam visa, and a bus ticket.

My heart races as I pull up the online reservations for Giant Ibis bus tours. Two voices compete for dominance in my head while the cursor hovers over the buy button. Once says go for it, the other urges me to find out more about what I am getting myself into. Adrenaline rushes through my body as I click the buy button; there is no turning back now. My bus leaves tomorrow morning for Saigon, via Phnom Penh, Cambodia’s capital.

I take a deep breath and try to calm myself. Next on the list is a visa. For Cambodia, Laos, and Thailand, you can get a visa on arrival, and with Cambodia and Vietnam, you can get an E-Visa or electronic visa. My fingers race over the keyboard as I bring up Vietnam’s government web page that I found two days before and saved on my favorites list.

My eyes scan over the heading again. Visa on arrival guaranteed, good for all land crossings, approved within 24 hours. I swallow, and my heart starts to race again. $80 is a lot for a one-month tourist visa in Asia. My finger hovers over the mouse button while a voice urges me not to go for it. A few days ago, I read a blog post that mentioned that visa on arrival for Vietnam is only valid for international airports, and not land border crossings. My finger twitches over the mouse button while I scan the web page. All looks legit. This is the Vietnam immigration website, and it states that the visa is valid for land border crossings. I am sure the blog post I read is outdated or just wrong.

Taking a deep breath, I click on the contact us button and send an email off, asking if the visa is, in fact, valid for land border crossings. I quickly shut my laptop down and then pack it into my backpack. My head spins as I make my way downstairs and out of the mall. This is going to be an awesome adventure. As I walk the 3km back to my flat, I dream of motorcycling through Vietnam, then cross over to Laos near Vientiane, and come all the way down to Siem Reap, Cambodia, with the same motorcycle.

The midday sun beats down on me as I make my way past Pub Street. At night, this road becomes the busiest road in Siem Reap and makes the daytime traffic look like a ghost road. Eventually, I make it to friends of mine that own a small convenience store in Sok San road, possibly the second busiest road in Siem Reap. The road is lined with guesthouses, backpacker hostels, Khmer restaurants, and more importantly, late-night bars. On a few occasions, I have waited for a bus at 5am, while backpackers got their last round from the all-night bars. After purchasing snacks for my 12-hour bus ride to Saigon, I head to the taxi stand on the corner and locate one of the tuk tuk drivers I use regularly. I arrange for him to pick me up at a corner close to my home tomorrow morning, and then head home to pack.

Just as I reach my flat, an email from the motorcycle shop with the Honda Bonus motorcycle arrives. The owner is going on holiday in two days and wants to sell the motorcycle before he goes; it is first come, first serve. I contemplate offering him a deposit. However, since I have never seen the motorcycle, and have never met the owner, I decide against it.

For the next three hours, I pack and unpack, then do it over again. I try to pack as light as possible, but also take things I think I will need on such a long ride. At first, I contemplate on taking only my 90L backpack, but eventually, decide to take my 55L backpack to carry my clothes on the back of the motorcycle while my electronics and documents will go in my 25L day backpack that I will carry on my back. On an over 2400km ride, having a backpack on your back is uncomfortable. However, due to last month’s nine-day, 1200 km trip around Cambodia, where I lost my main backpack when the bungee cords snapped on rough roads, I will tuff it out.

I had stopped for gas and checked all was okay. Due to heavy rains and bad gravel roads, I only noticed the backpack was gone about 5km further on. Although I raced back to search the road all the way to the gas station, locals already picked up a nice early Christmas gift. Luckily, I had my laptop, iPad, and wallet in the backpack on my back. Normally, I packed my laptop and iPad into the main backpack on the motorcycle but transferred them to the smaller backpack on my back as it was raining and the small backpack is more water resistant. That was one lucky day. I did, however, lose my Leatherman TTI Charge knife, UV water purifier, Black Diamond Icon headlamp, and all my clothes except what I had on, including all my motorcycle tools. With the packing done, I head over to the landlord’s son who lives in the flat next to mine and inform him that I will be gone for a month. To ease his fears of me not coming back, I pay the rent a month in advance. With my room rental secured, I lie down on my bed and try to relax while I wait for a response from the Vietnam immigration.

By 6pm, I get a bit worried with no email from the Vietnam Visa approval department. Not wanting to bother with starting up my laptop, I pull out my iPad and decide to go for it and purchase the online visa using my iPad. As I do not have the web page bookmarked on my iPad, I do an Internet search for Vietnam visa on arrival. As before, a number of results come up with the Vietnam government’s website near the top.

Just as I am about to click on the link, something catches my eye. A number of search results down, is another result that looks almost identical. Both say official Vietnam online visa application. Then my eyes catch it, and my heart sinks to the floor. How can I have been so stupid?

The second search result’s link ends in gov, the first website I looked at does not. Immediately I click on the second link. Icy nails claw down my spine as my eyes race over the web page. This is the actual Vietnam government web page. The other one is a fake website. Cold sweat runs down my face as I read a warning about other websites that impersonate the government’s page and steal people’s money.

The slight joy I feel for not having clicked on the buy button and be conned out of $80, is overshadowed by what I read next. Dread hugs my heart tightly, and my throat closes off. The room walls close in on me. Visa on arrival is not valid for any land borders, and no visas are available at any land border crossing. Worst, Visa approval for Vietnam takes about three days, and you have to visit a Vietnam embassy.

I bite my lip and lie down on my bed. Was I too fast to go for the trip? Should I have found out more about motorcycling in Vietnam before booking a bus ticket? Maybe it is not so easy to bring a motorcycle through Vietnam as I thought. The ceiling fan races as fast as my thoughts while being as effective against the heat as anything I can do now. I shake my head and sigh. Dumbass, I have bought a bus ticket to Vietnam and cannot enter it. Is the trip doomed before it even started?

A metallic sound rips me out of my thoughts when a fan blade hits a small beetle that managed to get into the flat. The beetle is thrown hard against the tile floor and skids over it until it crashes against the wall. Undeterred, the beetle rights itself, and then flies off again and out the window. As Rocky Balboa said, ... it ain’t about how hard you’re hit, it is about how hard you can get hit and keep moving forward, how much can you take and keep moving forward. That’s how winning is done! Thanks, Rocky.

My fingers run an Olympic sprint race over the digital keyboard as I search for options. Siem Reap has no Vietnam consulate, but Phnom Penh does. To my surprise, World Tour in Siem Reap, a tour operator I used a few times before, lists on their website that they can get a Vietnam Visa. However, it takes three days, as they have to send your passport to Phnom Penh. As my Vietnam bus ticket goes via Phnom Penh, I might as well get off there, and go to the Vietnam consulate myself. While I wait for my visa, I will do a bit of sightseeing in Phnom Penh. This way, I only lose the bus fare part from Phnom Penh to Saigon.

With a renewed spirit, I start up my laptop and then email all the notes and blog posts I have found about motorcycling in Vietnam, to my iPad. For this long trip, it is better that I leave my laptop at home. Motorcycle travel is not good for laptops. The bedside clock proudly states 3am when I shut down my laptop and secure it with a lock cable in my clothes closet. I have three hours left before I am to meet my tuk tuk driver, just enough time to dream about my trip. I hope that I do not oversleep.

Chapter 2: Where Is My Tuk Tuk?

Crickets chirp as I make my way through the moonless night. Where I live near the edge of town, there are no streetlights or paved side roads. Half-way down a narrow dirt path leading to the main road, I stop. A shiver runs down my spine. From behind scrubs alongside the path, growling makes the hair at the back of my neck stand up. Slowly, I reach down and touch the knife secured to my pants’ belt. The growling gets louder as I slip my hand into my pants pocket and take out my first line of defense against wild dogs. Branches break as deadly canine teeth open, seeking my flesh. I swallow as I push the button, this better work. A blinding light burst through the darkness in rapid flashes as the powerful strobe on the headlamp activates. Teeth glisten one meter from me where the dog stops. Growling at me, the dog makes to lunge forward but then backs off a step. Its resolve to rip me apart is wavering in the onslaught of light that confuses it. For a moment, it looks away and then shakes its head. I keep the light focused on his eyes until he gives in and returns to his ambush position. He lets me pass and then waits for a lesser prey.

With all the dogs nearby alerted to my presence, there is no use in walking in the dark. I activate the flood mode of my headlamp until I reach the main road. Orange sun rays slowly push the darkness away, and I switch my headlamp off. I stop for a moment to take in the breathtaking scenery as the sun lights up the Cambodian countryside and rice fields. Resuming my walk, I head down the road towards town.

A few minutes later, a tuk tuk driver waves at me from the bridge 200 meters ahead of me, where I am to meet up with my friend. Narrowing my eyes, I stop and study the tuk tuk. My heart misses a beat. That is not my friend’s tuk tuk. Where is he? Nervously I look around in search of my ride to the bus station. The tuk tuk driver starts his motorcycle and comes on over. Should I take his offer for a ride? What if I do and my friend shows up and waits for me. However, what if my friend does not show up and I decline this tuk tuk, then I will miss my bus. With a big smile, the tuk tuk driver pulls up next to me. He gives me a once over look, and then says.

Morning, you go bus, my brother sick. He sent me.

I am so glad I want to hug the guy.

Morning, thanks for taking his place. Do you know where the bus station is?

Yes, yes, no problem.

I hop in the tuk tuk and lie back in the seat. It is going to be a long day. Eight hours to Phnom Penh on one of the most dangerous roads in Cambodia. It would have been around four hours additional to Saigon, but that I will need to do on another day. The tuk tuk bounces and shakes my intestines as we race the 7km to the bus station. It is 6:20am when we pull into the bus station, 10 minutes early. Nervously, I scan the station. My bus is not there. My heart starts to race. Are we at the wrong place? Sometimes the buses do not depart from the bus station, but their office. I rattle my brain as I try to remember if the website said the bus station or their office.

Does the Giant Ibis bus leave from here? I ask the tuk tuk driver as I climb out and hand him his fare.

Yes, yes, no problem, soon come. The driver replies and then speeds off. I watch the driver disappear around the corner.

I have great respect for tuk tuk drivers, especially those in Cambodia. People often think they have an easy life, but most do not. Given that I have a room rented from a Cambodian family that has a reasonable piece of land, I see the behind the scene life of these drivers. In front of my flat is a 30-meter (100-foot) dirt section, which is lined with trees. At night, about eight tuk tuk drivers park their tuk tuks in line there and then sleep inside their tuk tuks. Their tuk tuks are their home, what is stored in the secure box behind the tuk tuk and in front, is all they own. Many do not even own the motorcycle and tuk tuk carriage; they rent it month by month.

I turn my attention back to the bus station and go over the 10 buses preparing to take passengers. I hope that my bus will arrive soon. Bus companies like to switch locations, especially the drop-off location. This way, they ensure that only the tuk tuk drivers they have deals with know where to meet the bus. You have the option to either walk to town or use their service, and you can be sure the bus stops around five or more kilometers from town.

The smell of fried eggs makes my feet walk by themselves, and before I know it, I am ordering two bread rolls with cheese from a nearby Khmer mobile food cart. The bread rolls hit the right spot, but cannot compensate for the worry that gnaws at my nerves. Where is my bus? By 6:45am, I restlessly pace the large bus station. None of the buses that have pulled in recently is mine, and there is no sign indicating where Giant Ibis buses should park. The sound of a diesel engine behind me spins me around, and my heart skips a beat of joy. A Giant Ibis bus pulls into the bus station. Curious eyes stare out from a few windows inside the bus. Now I know why the bus is late. The driver picked people up from their hotels with the bus. Normally, they send a minivan. Two employees appear out of thin air and set a table up while the bus driver reverses the bus into its bay. I wait until they are set up, and then walk over.

Ticket please. One of the staff says.

I booked online, here is my confirmation email, I say and show them the email receipt on my iPhone. The staff member reads the booking number and then scans a list on a clipboard. Finding my booking, he reaches down and picks up my ticket. He rips off a small stub the size of half a business card and hands it over to me. I slip the stub in my pocket and then head for the restroom. Unlike many other places in Cambodia, here you have to pay to use the restroom. Caught off-guard, I fish in my pocket for the change I received when I bought the bread rolls earlier. For security, I keep my wallet in a hidden pocket in my backpack.

After losing some weight in the restroom, I roam around the bus station. 15 minutes later, the conductor calls everyone to get on the bus. At the door, the same staff member who handed my ticket to me earlier checks everyone’s tickets. I reach into my pocket, and my heart stops. My ticket is gone.

Ticket please. The man says.

I lost the ticket you gave me. I manage as my face goes white. Frantically I search my pockets, to no avail. Did I lose it when I paid for the toilet?

No ticket, no ride. The man replies and helps someone else.

But you just gave me my ticket a few minutes ago. You must remember me, and you have the other part of the ticket. I reply.

No ticket, no ride, you lose your problem. The man answers. I stand back for a moment as I search every pocket, but to no avail, my ticket is gone. Where I lost it, I have no idea. I go back to the toilet and look around, but cannot find my ticket. Now what? I return to the bus and take out my iPhone. I bring the email with the ticket number up and then step forward.

Here is my ticket, I say as I hold the phone out to the man. He looks at the phone and then glances at the driver; both are not sure what to do. The driver goes over to the table, searches through the ticket stubs and finds the other half of my ticket that the conductor kept.

Please no lose, take seat. The driver says as he hands me the ticket.

Thank you, I reply as I take the ticket, and make for the door.

Ticket please. The man who gave me the original ticket says just before I get on the bus. Confused I look at him and hand over the stub I just got.

Thank you. Take seat please. He says, as he takes the ticket the driver just gave me. I shake my head and get on the bus. Only in Cambodia mate. On the bus, I make myself comfortable and then start searching online for places to stay in Phnom Penh. My iPad mini takes a cellphone Sim card and allows me to have mobile internet. For $5 a month, I get unlimited data at a reasonable speed. On bookings.com, I find a guesthouse whose name catches my eye, Okay… Guesthouse sounds okay to me. The pictures of the place look nice, so I book accommodation for two days. With my accommodation taken care off, I lean back and let the road and time pass by. At times, I write a bit, and at times, I take power naps. The eight-hour bus ride crawls agonizingly slowly by. The sun is fast heading for dinnertime when we eventually pull into the bus stop at Phnom Penh for a short break.

I am getting off here, I inform the driver as I climb out of the bus.

You are not going to Vietnam? He gasps.

No, I have no visa.

Then why did you book a ticket to Vietnam? He asks as his eyebrows narrow. There is no time to try to explain so I just say.

Mistake.

You strange tourist. He replies and shakes his head at me.

I head over to the side of the bus where the conductor is removing other passengers’ baggage.

That backpack is mine; can you pull it out please? I ask the conductor.

You not going to Vietnam? He frowns as he looks at the tag on my backpack.

No, I do not have a visa for Vietnam.

Why you waste money and book bus to Vietnam? He asks as he eyes me up and down. I bite my lip and then reply.

I did not know you cannot get a visa at the border.

You not very smart tourist. He grins as he retrieves my backpack. I clench my jaw as I take my backpack and try to disappear before anyone else asks me if I am not going to Vietnam. As soon as the nearby tuk tuk drivers see me walking away from the bus with my luggage, they surround me and eagerly offer me their services. I pick the driver who wears the oldest clothes. His face shows his gratitude for being picked, and he almost carries me to his tuk tuk. My hotel is close to the river promenade, and around 10 minutes from the bus stop. I have been to Phnom Penh before, and have seen almost all there is to see in Phnom Penh that interests me. This, however, does not deter my driver from trying to arrange to pick me up tomorrow morning to take me to one of the temples.

No thanks, I need to get to the Vietnam consulate for a visa. Do you know where it is? I ask as I get out of the tuk tuk when he stops in front of my hotel.

Yes, yes, $10. He eagerly answers.

Forget that, I will help you. A voice calls from the reception counter inside the hotel. A woman appears at the entrance of the hotel and motions me to follow her. The tuk tuk driver’s face drops as I pay him his fee and follow the woman into the hotel.

You need a Vietnam Visa? The woman asks as I stop by the reception desk.

Yes, how long does it take? I have a booking for two nights here.

If you give your passport now, tomorrow 5pm it is done.

Awesome, how much? I eagerly ask.

$55.

Okay, I reply as I remove my passport while trying to hide my excitement. I hand over my passport and show her my online hotel booking confirmation on my iPad.

Soon, my wallet is a few notes lighter, and I am following a guy who insists on carrying my backpack, up winding stairs to my room. Four floors up, we go down a small corridor, and stop at my room. It is just a bed and a small bathroom with a toilet and shower. The heat in the room hits me, and I switch the air conditioner on. It gives a few death row noises as it rattles to live. I feel the air coming out of the vents. It is the same temperature as the room.

The air conditioner is not working, I inform the porter as he is about to leave the room.

Give an hour or so, good good. He replies and before I can respond, he leaves the room and closes the door. Twenty minutes later, after having unpacked, the air conditioner has not changed in temperature. A note on the wall reads that any problems have to be reported immediately as it will not be rectified later. I decide to go down to the reception and complain. They respond by sending the same person that showed me the room, with me back to the room.

Feel the air, it is not cold, I inform the guy as he enters the room.

Give a few hours, will be good. He replies and turns around.

No, it is not working. I am not taking this room. I reply with my fists on my hips. The guy eyes me up and down a few times and then replies.

Okay, I get you other room.

I pack my stuff up as he leaves to get the key for my new room. After a few minutes, he returns and signals for me to follow him up to the next floor. This time, the air conditioner gets cold almost immediately, and I have a better view. As the guy leaves, I quickly unpack my stuff and then head downstairs for dinner at the onsite restaurant.

With darkness softly enveloping Phnom Penh, I order a Cambodian pizza. I rarely have pizza, as it is expensive, but tonight is a treat for me. Using my iPad, I send a quick email to the motorcycle shop that has the Honda Bonus for sale and inform them that due to visa problems, I will not arrive tonight in Saigon, but in two days. I also inform them that I still want the Honda Bonus. I work on my travel blog until my pizza arrives.

I have to smile as the waiter places my pizza on the table. It turns out to be a baguette, opened up, and layered with cheese and toppings. Although it is very tasty, it is not a pizza. Welcome to Cambodia, where what the menu says, means very little.

Leaning back in my chair, I lift my coffee cup to my lips while my thoughts turn to the adventure to come. The strong aroma tickles my nose and evokes feelings of excitement. This is going to be an epic adventure. How epic an adventure, as well as testing, I had no idea.

Chapter 3: What, You Have No Visa

Cool Vietnam mountain air plays with my hair while my motorcycle surges forward as I twist the throttle. Another sharp bend comes up, and I lean hard into the corner, almost scraping my knee. A smile flashes over my lips; this is living life. A shockwave goes through me as a loud bang echoes in my ears. Did the motor blow? The second bang rips me from my dream, and I sit wide awake in my bed. Annoyed, I stare with narrowed eyes at my room door while noisy backpackers pass by outside and bump against the wall and my door.

Excitement and the promise of adventure to come see me roll around until 3am this morning. Lazily I pull my iPad closer and check the time. With a sigh, I fall back into my pillows. It is 6am. I try to get some more sleep, but it is useless. I may as well get up. Pulling my iPad closer again, I start to scan through my emails.

My heart races as I spot a reply email from the shop that has the Honda Bonus for sale. I swallow, and then eagerly open the email. My heart sinks to my toes with every word I read. The shop owner’s vacation plans are set, and he cannot wait for me. Just then, something in the email attracts my attention. His vacation is only a few days long. I will only be arriving in two days in Saigon and planned to explore the city for a few days in any case. Maybe I can buy the motorcycle when he returns from his holiday. I