This is the story of how Craig accidentally walked a half-marathon in flip-flops down a Cambodian motorway — while I stayed by the pool.

A pool, a blog, and the beginning of a very bad idea

Some couples spend their afternoons sharing cocktails by the pool, whispering sweet nothings, maybe reading a book together.

Craig and I are not that couple.

I parked myself poolside like a sun-seeking lizard, tapping away at the blog and living my best sedentary life. I had an iced drink, a bag of crisp, a shady spot, and creative flow — the holy trinity of poolside productivity.

Meanwhile, Craig decided — entirely unprovoked — to embark on a 22-kilometre walk in flip-flops.

What he neglected to mention was that this would take most of the day, involve zero pavements, and end with him re-entering the hotel like a man returned from exile.

Flip-flops.

Twenty-two kilometres.

I’m still unsure whether to nominate him for a bravery award or book him in for a psychological assessment.

Craig vs the Cambodian highway

Nearly six hours later, he reappeared at the hotel looking like he’d survived a minor war. Not a drop of sweat but dust patches in places dust should not be. Flip-flops hanging on by a single molecular bond and feet black as the ace of spades. Eyes glazed with the thousand-yard stare of a man who has seen things.

Naturally, I asked the obvious question.

“Where on earth have you been?”

His answer?

“Down the middle of the highway.”

Of course he had. Because why walk on a pavement when you can stroll along the central reservation like a confused migrating wildebeest.

Things Craig saw while walking absolutely nowhere

Snakes – Plural. Casual. As if encountering snakes on a motorway is just part of a normal Tuesday.

A room for rent — three hours, $5

Reported with the innocence of a man who genuinely believes it’s for naps.

A Cambodian mobile home

“Basically a truck with ambition,” according to Craig.

The market: chaos, catfish, and baby play mat

Somewhere along the way, Craig wandered into a real market — not the tourist-curated kind with tidy baskets and polite signage.

No.

This was the full sensory-assault version.

Fish everywhere – Catfish flapping around on the floor like they were auditioning for River dance.

A baby in the middle of it all – Just plonked there, completely unfazed, like this was the world’s most chaotic play mat.

Meat selection, Cambodian style

According to Craig, the process goes like this: You select your meat, pick it up, give it a good slap while negotiating the price, then walk off with your prize.

No weighing scales.

No packaging.

Just vibes.

A curios young girl – She asked him where he was walking.

Craig replied, “Nowhere in particular.”

She looked at him like he’d just confessed to being a cloud.

He killed her curiosity forever. 

The motorway extras (because why stop at snakes?)

Along the central reservation — still in flip-flops — Craig also passed:

A blacksmith – Hammering glowing metal using whatever scrap he could find. Craig described it as a medieval workshop sponsored by the recycling centre.

Large but tired hotels – Grand entrances, faded glory, and the architectural equivalent of “I’ve had a long week.”

A rehabilitation centre for war amputees

Supported by the Australian government. Artificial arms and legs stored in blue wheelie bins. Craig said seeing limbs sticking out of bins was “a bit weird,” which feels like an understatement.

A military camp – A guard gave him a nod. Craig nodded back. Two men acknowledging each other’s questionable life choices.

The War Museum

Somewhere on the way back to our hotel— still in flip-flops — Craig wandered into the War Museum.

It’s outdoors, dusty, and feels like a post-apocalyptic film set where the hero definitely doesn’t make it to the end. Tanks. Guns. Helicopters. Landmines. No gloss. No polish. Just Cambodia’s past sitting quietly in the heat.

He didn’t linger.

One pool, one half-marathon, one very us kind of day in Siem Reap

I wrote a blog by the pool.

Craig walked a half-marathon in beach shoes, down a motorway, past snakes, brothels, catfish, blacksmiths, amputee centres, military camps, and curios  children.

Some couples collect souvenirs.

We collect stories that make people question our life choices.

Tomorrow’s preview:

I’m staying by the pool again.

Craig is probably planning to walk to Vietnam.

In flip-flops.