it was monsoon season. we woke in the darkness before dawn and waded through waist-high waters before jumping on our motorcycles for a day that alternated between blistering heat and sudden floods.
in siem reap, we rode our horses past rice paddies and temple ruins. the sun had risen by the time we returned; the lilies in the paddies were in full white and pink bloom, and a small child swam into the waters to collect the flowers.
we visited the floating village and sunken forest of tonle sap, where reflections shivered across green waters.
we visited mondulkiri. we navigated our way over rope bridges and ladders through the jungle and over rocky ledges. a tarantula scrambled onto my head. i dropped into the water to swim with a small, forest elephant; she gently wrapped her trunk around my waist, and only when we left the pool did i see the heavy chain attached to her leg.
i spent most of the time thinking about my father who had passed away two weeks before the trip. one night in phnom penh i dreamed he walked ahead of me on a jungle path. he seemed weak but at peace. when i awoke, i felt his spirit was beside me on this trip.
