A clearing through covid clouds

The misty clouds of life obscuring covid have lifted just enough to let a wandering traveller take leave after 28 months in waiting, and finally take his motorcycle across the sleepy deep green jungle border at Choam, Cambodia to Sa-Ngam, Thailand.

Perhaps the customs officers at the Thai border were a little sleepy too, caught unawares when they tripped over their regulations when mistakenly promising free passage to this wanderer's vehicle a month ago, when in actuality a law says another permit of bureaucracy must be secured ahead of time. With reasonable demands made and their apologies given, they were bound by their failure to help. 1 hour later customary provisions were printed for me to enter. I didn't believe I had made it until I drove past the military guard post.

There is an exhilarating view to greet newcomers looking over the Huai Sarman reservoir and a potholed road winding nicely into the valley below. There are not many tight winding roads in Cambodia, so it's a pleasant novelty to lean into a corner and dodge a hole for a change. My wish for the first day's post pandemic travel was granted in the overcast but rainless weather pattern.

An effortless drive passing a hundred emerald green rice fields allows the mind to meditate a while, farmers toil, water buffalo munch and wallow, until broken by future concerns;

My way to Nepal is barred by civil war in Myanmar, the pandemic seems to be on a downturn of interest, but its various strains are busy working up a comeback, Ukraine's fight is effecting everyone to one degree or another and China is finally flexing its military might for an invasion of Taiwan. There's plenty else to worry about in other parts of the world too with water scarcity, food shortages looming, and dire climate warnings ever superseding. It's difficult to see how any of this is going to improve for all those that are on the suffering end. The world is turning super scary at break neck speed.

Where does a motolander researching indigenous games fit into this unearthly future ?

The mission seems redundant and superfluous in the face of all these more important and depressing end game scenarios floating through my mind.

I motor on regardless with the endeavour of appreciating the last enclaves of indigenous games culture, a respite for future generations to enjoy one day, is the futile hope.

A sepak takraw ball is mounted over my dashboard as a beacon to locals who might want to invite me to play a game with them. Unfortunately I've just missed an important takraw tournament last month, the Sepaktakraw Kings Cup, but hopefully I can find some players with time to spare along the way.

Meanwhile, my motorcycle boots are disintegrating, so I had better source a repair, or new pair, before I'm riding barefoot through the monsoon.