Unturned Stones

The intense afternoon sun penetrated down on me as I waited anxiously to board our train car. I watched with cautious enthusiasm as our driver, cigarette dangling from his lips and woven straw hat perched on his sweaty, matted-down hair, assembled the final pieces, before motioning for us to climb aboard. “Was this really safe,” I thought, as I studied the contraption now sitting before us? It didn’t matter. We had taken a 5-hour bus ride to Battambang, Cambodia for the sole purpose of riding the Nori train and I was not going to back out simply because the “train car” was a precariously positioned bamboo platform lying on two axles with a lawnmower engine. That simply made it more exciting. Besides, riding the Nori would potentially be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and I certainly was not going to let a little issue like safety get in the way of living each opportunity to its fullest.

With a quick snap of the starting cord and a skilled flip of the lever, we began rolling down the tracks. I stared out at the vast countryside, the balmy air blowing across my face and through my hair. Tiny villages enveloped by lush green vegetation and unspoiled land dotted the train’s route. Chickens strutted about in search of food; water buffalo ambled carelessly along the tracks. Children played with each other, kicking a ball or weaving jewelry out of coconut leaves. A young boy walked naked hand-in-hand with his mother beside the tracks, stopping to smile and wave as we passed. There were no televisions or computers or smart phones. There was no traffic or deadlines or windowless offices. It was simple and peaceful.

I found myself at a crossroads, one where I had been fifteen years before. I made a choice then and followed a certain path. This time, I would make a different choice, follow the other path, redefine who I am.

A 14-kilometer stretch of 75-year-old railroad tracks riding atop a bamboo platform as the sun set over Battambang. A moment captured, a perspective altered, a life changed.