Flying high

My flight left at 10 am on a Tuesday. After checking in and going through the security, I made my way to the somewhat empty 'domestic' wing of the airport to await boarding. It was here I met a lady named Bev. She was a Victoria girl, from Canada and was taking some time out here to do a documentary on the fading musical arts in a group of Khmers in Phnom penh, but they were just awaiting the go ahead (funding) so she decided to take a detour to Ratanakiri. We hit it off from the get go and became travel buddies for the next few days.

I have photos, but for some reason this computer I'm on doesn't want to download any photos so they'll have to come later.

When it came time to board the plane, we walked out to the airstrip and boarded a bucket of bolts. Some of the seats didn't even stay up, but luckily there weren't that many of us on the flight, so everyone got a favorable seat. The flight only took an hour, which would take an 11 bumpy hours, by bus. We landed on the tiny red dust airstrip, collected our "checked baggage" from the back of a dented pick-up and hopped on a couple of motorcycles to the 'tribal guesthouse'.