Pit stop at Angkor

We thought retirement meant slowing down. Turns out it means strapping ourselves to a moped in Cambodia, paying $8 a day for the privilege, and hoping the brakes are more reliable than Craig’s memory.

Driving here is less rules of the road and more flow like water and honk like mad. Tuk‑tuks, buses, cows, and mopeds all jostle for space in a choreography that looks terrifying but somehow works. It’s chaos — but it’s our kind of chaos.

There’s something oddly magical about weaving through it all: camera strapped to Craig’s back, temples rising on the horizon, street‑food smoke drifting past. Culture, comedy, and chaos rolled into one rattling ride.

Day 1: Temple‑Drunk by Sunrise

Armed with our $62 golden tickets (three‑day passes to Angkor Wat), we set off like kids let loose in a sweet shop — except the sweets are 1,000‑year‑old temples and the sugar rush is heatstroke‑adjacent.

Prasat Bei — the forgotten appetizer
A tiny 10th‑century temple built under King Yasovarman I, now mostly forgotten. Little monkeys everywhere.
Our Bumble: A quiet starter. The appetizer before the feast.

South Gate of Angkor Thom — the ancient bouncers.

A late 12th‑century gateway built by King Jayavarman VII, guarded by gods and demons hauling a naga.
Our Bumble: Towering stone faces watching us roll in like ancient bouncers deciding if we’re worthy.

Bayon Temple — the face‑filled wonder

Jayavarman VII’s state temple, famous for its 200‑plus smiling stone faces.
Our Bumble: Craig swore one looked suspiciously like him. I refused to confirm. Great place to get lost in.

Preah Khan — the endless corridors

A sprawling 12th‑century monastery dedicated to the king’s father.
Our Bumble: Jungle meets ruins, with corridors that go on long enough to make you question your sense of direction and life choices.

Pre Rup — the jelly‑legged sunset climb

A 10th‑century temple mountain thought to be used for funerary rituals.
Our Bumble: Sunset views that briefly make you forget your legs have turned to jelly.

Angkor Wat — the smug giant

The main event. Built in the early 12th century by King Suryavarman II, originally Hindu, later Buddhist — basically the ultimate house‑share. Gods move in, gods move out, but the towers stay put.
Our Bumble: Sunrise here is pure magic. Worth every alarm, even if the temple is quietly smug about being bigger than everyone else.

By the end of the day we were temple‑drunk, dust‑coated, and grinning like treasure hunters who’d struck gold.

Day 2: Oscillating & Tomb Raider

Another sunrise. Another shiver. It was bloody freezing, so Craig and I invented a new Cambodian driving technique: oscillating.

Picture two idiots swaying side to side on a moped to keep warm. Bonus points for saving fuel. Extra points for looking completely unhinged.

Ta Prohm — the jungle takeover

Built in the late 12th century by Jayavarman VII and deliberately left to the jungle.
Our Bumble: Not a soul around. I briefly became Lara Croft — minus the abs, plus a lot of giggling.

Takeo — the lightning‑struck Lego set

A 10th‑century temple mountain, famously unfinished after lightning struck during construction.
Our Bumble: Like climbing a giant Lego set abandoned mid‑build.

Grand Circuit Temples — the empire’s outer reaches

Outer temples built across centuries, spread wide across Angkor’s empire.
Our Bumble: The ride felt endless, but Craig perfected his oscillation technique to Olympic standard.

Elephant Terrace — the frozen parade

A 12th‑century royal platform carved with marching elephants, once used for ceremonies and parades.
Our Bumble: Stone elephants lined up like a parade frozen in time. Craig tried to join in, but lacked the trunk.

We rolled back into town for a late lunch — dusty, delirious, and still buzzing — convinced that mopeds might be the only proper way to see Angkor.

Day 3: Countryside Detours & Butterfly Whispers

We opted to travel an hour outside Siem Reap to Banteay Srei — the pink‑stone jewel. The road was surprisingly smooth, tarmac all the way, and the ride itself became its own adventure.

Cambodia revealed itself in flashes: posters of the People’s Party plastered everywhere, hay bales propped up by bamboo in freshly cut fields, jars of mysterious powders that looked like ground spices, and dogs on every patch—scruffy but grinning like they owned the place. Smoke drifted from burning fields, termite hills rose like miniature fortresses, and roadside tables shaded by tatty parasols offered ginger and bananas still on the branch. Fires crackled by the road, the smell of smoke clinging to our clothes, while locals lounged on plastic chairs or, more often, hammocks strung up as the nation’s favourite seating plan.

By the time we reached Banteay Srei, the temple felt almost delicate compared to Angkor’s giants. Smaller, yes, but carved with astonishing detail and colour. Our Bumble: beautiful, but maybe not worth the long ride unless you’re a sucker for pink sandstone.

On the way back, we stumbled into a little butterfly farm where a young girl guided us through with quiet pride, showing us wings in every shade. We lingered an hour, enchanted by something so simple yet so alive.

The day began cold, but by the end the sun had warmed us through. Craig returned the bike, and with it, our three‑day temple marathon came to a close.Final Thoughts

Angkor isn’t just temples. It’s rattling mopeds, numbing sunrises, jungle roots strangling stone, and moments where you accidentally become Lara Croft before realising you need a sit‑down.

For us, it was culture, chaos, comedy — and three unforgettable days on two wheels.

Tomorrow, we might actually slow down.
Or we might just oscillate again.