-^-for posterity-^-

the other day we went to tiger island. jack, charles and myself all mounted our respective bicycles and headed off.

the island is in the middle of the murky mekong river. after a breakfast of cambodian noodles with shrimp we piled onto a light blue ferry. it was more of a large floating board. it was about ten feet wide and twice as long. it churned through the water because of a large engine which was powered by gasoline which was controlled by a stout man powered by rice.

the ferry pulled up to a dock partially hidden by overgrowth. charles knew the way and we were off down long, winding dirt roads past hundreds of smiling faces.

our first stop was the temple/museum of uncle ton. he was the president after uncle ho chi minh and was born on tiger island. his house has been preserved and sets off to the left of the road while the temple sets off to the right. its grounds were full of enthusiastic school children.

we weren’t in the mood for a museum.

the rest of our day was spent strolling around talking to people. the small path is dotted with small farm houses. they are all built a bit off of the ground because of the rainy season and all have some variety of animal lurking about. either a large goose, a stray dog, some water buffalo, maybe some pigs or, rarely, a dirty cat. we stopped at the house of a farmer that charles knew. he’s here doing agricultural research and knows everything. the farmer had five steers feeding out back. they were housed under a short roof and surrounded by mosquito netting. their heads were bowed in thanks for the grass they were eating.

one of the farmers had three teeth in the front of his mouth. they occupied the right side. the left side had no teeth. he did most of the talking and i spent most of my time staring in his mouth.

we left and found a small café to have coffee. it was only a small shack with three small children and a smallish older lady. they made us coffee and lemonade and we chatted about politics, religion and, of course, mennonites (charles and jack really don’t understand what mennonites are. i try to explain but worry that i’m telling them some half-truth.)

after circling the island we left. we had had enough cycling for one day. my bicycle isn’t designed for long trips and we were all saddle sore. we piled on another ferry and headed home. the wind was cool on our faces and the water licked the sides of the floating board.