A solo motorbike journey to celebrate Chinese New Year , Cambodian style.

Traveling during every CNY I never know how or who I will be celebrating it with. Chan spoke of how I could help her learn songs on KTV during the ceremonial celebration I was invited to, hoping she was joking but my experience told me she wasn't. Seeing a whole family on one motorbike is a common sight in Asia, seizing the opportunity I jumped on, excited to wherever I was being taken. We meandered through tiny paths between stone and metal shanty homes that housed no front door. Smoothly stopping outside a hut I could barely see for all the people standing in front of it. Hearing a greeting of a name that always follows me ‘Simon, come, come, Chinese New Year’. I was ushered past the smiling faces of neighbors and family already in full celebration. Her home of 1 room for 6 people, a big bed, a stove, a squat toilet and wait for it, a tree. A tree with no leaves, (a branch with LED lights).This was a slice of Cambodian life, seeing it as a tourist but more of a guest. Sitting on the bare stone ground beside her sister with her shy yet enquiring eyes, her brother with his 1950's ‘ponyboy’ look and of course her aunt, what a character. In her pajama's and a gargantuan smile displaying her three spindly front teeth - I warmed to her instantly. Berating me to eat more and drink more beer to 'dance, Simon dance' . Only enough room for five on the floor, leaving half of the community peering through the front door with no door. The food was delicious,only wishing I had a picture of it to tantalize my aging memory. Amok fragrant as ever with protruding bones rising above the swirl of coconut sauce and my favourite, strips of melon dipped in a local chilli salt paste. I ate so much I felt like I edged the fifth person off the floor. With every mouthful followed another cheers, as they "jul muoy'd" (cheers) I happily drank another. The English and Khmer tongue not being needed as gesture and common understanding of any celebration carried the way. There was neither light in or out of the home. Making sure they had enough batteries to take care of real business - the playing of the almighty 'gangnam style'. After the 15th continual play I lost track. Every time it started they jumped around as if it were the first. This truly was Chinese New year. As we rode back to Otres in the pitch black Cambodian air I burnt my leg on the exhaust, to be left with a perfectly formed blister in the shape of the bolt that made it. I love scars that carry great memories.