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Cambodia’s Countryside

otres beach in sihanoukville

Cambodia’s Countryside

Words and Photos by Hannah Loaring

Location: From Cambodia

The day begins much like any other. We dress, hurriedly bundle our scattered belongings into our daypacks with little care for creases, grab our helmets, and with one quick check under the bed, we are out the door and greeted by our travel companions, Sophia and Russ.

But today is not like any other. Today is different, and my heart is heavy with the knowledge that we have come to an ending of sorts: the end of our Cambodian road trip, traversing the countryside on a rusty 125cc Honda with two strangers who have become firm friends.

“I could almost feel my chest crack open as I let go of my tension and stress, my fears and reservations, and gave way to the countless possibilities that awaited us.”

We first met Sophia and Russ back in Battambang over a month ago. We’d been crossing their path for the past few days, drinking at the same bars, eating at the same restaurants, each time a smile of recognition passed between us. But it wasn’t until we came face to face as my partner Lee and I made our way out of a tiny cave in the hillside at Wat Banan that we finally exchanged words, and agreed that this serendipitous meeting was surely a sign that we should meet again. And so we did, the very next evening, to share beers and travel stories well into the night, before deciding to write a new one together on a month long adventure across Cambodia by motorbike.

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Is Volun-Tourism Your Key to Perpetual Travel? An exploration in Nicaragua

Me and my 1st grade class

An exploration in Nicaragua

Words and Photos by Susan Shain

Location: From Granada, Nicaragua

The air is thick with moisture and the smell of garbage. The thermometer, if there was one in the vicinity, would read well over 95°F (35°C).

I’ve just taken a cold shower, yet I’m already dripping in sweat. I’m perched precariously on my bicycle, swerving and often dragging my feet on the ground to maintain balance.

“I’ve built my life and career around my love of travel.”

This morning, I’ve already narrowly avoided collisions with a horse, a cart bursting with bananas, and at least three different taxis. As I ride, I pass by a group of men sitting on a curb in undershirts and sandals. They appear to still be drunk from the night before. They yell a variety of colorful expressions at me (none that I haven’t heard before).

Why am I here? Is it worth it?

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