The conversation began lightly, then settled into something deeper. Somewhere between the first sip and the second, JP leaned back and began telling me about the bicycles — each one a symbol of hope for families who refuse to let distance steal education.
Not the kind of story you expect over a morning coffee. But the kind that lingers.
How It Started
“After COVID,” JP said, stirring slowly, “I was back leading tours in Siem Reap, and I started noticing something. Kids were dropping out. Not because they didn’t want to learn, but because they couldn’t get to school.”
In rural Cambodia, primary school is within walking distance. But after sixth grade, the nearest secondary school can be six or seven kilometers away. For families still recovering from the pandemic, a bicycle was a luxury beyond reach. Without one, the journey became impossible.
“So I thought, what if we do something small? Every time I come to Siem Reap with a group, we give away some bicycles — a small gesture but a symbol of hope.”
JP gives away used bikes imported from Japan. Each bicycle is fitted with a basket and lights — practical additions for carrying books and riding safely at dawn. More than transport, it’s a lifeline.
He explained how it works. When he leads a tour in Siem Reap, he invites travelers to join. They visit a local school, meet the children, and hand over the bicycles together. What began as a personal gesture became something his travelers eagerly anticipate — a chance to give back, to connect, to leave something behind beyond footprints.
“Nothing fancy,” he said. “Just enough to help a few kids keep going. But to them, it’s the world — a symbol of hope carved in steel and rubber.”
He shrugged as if it were nothing. But I understood that shrug. It carried everything.
A Memory of My Own
As he spoke, a memory surfaced. Years ago, I had done something similar — in Hue, Vietnam. I gave away hundreds of bicycles to local children. It felt right. It felt meaningful. But after that one effort, it stopped. I couldn’t sustain it alone. No one joined me. Without that, the momentum faded.
I mentioned this to JP. He nodded slowly.
500, Then 1,000
“Last year we passed 500,” he said, and for the first time, a smile appeared. “That’s when we realized — why stop now? Every bicycle is a little promise.”
So they set a new goal. One thousand bicycles — one thousand symbols of hope.
“When you see the children’s faces when they receive the bike — and your travelers standing right there, witnessing it — you can’t simply walk away after that.”
JP works with local schools to identify students most in need. He sources the bicycles locally, supporting the community while helping it. It is my friend Visal and his team at SAK Adventures, plus his wife’s family, who help find the children who need the bikes. Each group becomes part of that effort.
“One traveler told me, ‘This is the best day of my trip.’ Another said, ‘I didn’t know a bicycle could mean so much — it’s a true symbol of hope.'”
He paused. “For the children, it’s the difference between staying in school or not. For travelers, it’s a reminder that travel can be about more than just seeing places.”
I thought about my own attempt in Hue. One person can only do so much. But JP had discovered something I hadn’t: many hands make the work light. With each group, he wasn’t just giving bicycles — he was inviting people to share in something meaningful.
“You did well,” I said. “I gave once. You keep giving. That’s the difference.”
He shook his head. “You started it. I just found a way to keep it going — to keep the symbol of hope alive.”
This Week: 15 More
On March 25th, JP and his current group will give away another 15 bicycles.
With that, the total reaches 738.
“That’s 738 children who no longer have to choose between walking six kilometers or quitting school,” he said. “That’s 738 families who can breathe a little easier. 738 symbols of hope riding toward the future.”
I asked what keeps him doing this, trip after trip.
He reflected. “The children, of course. But also my travelers. They come from across the world, and they want to do something meaningful. This is something we can do together. It’s simple, it’s real, and it works.”
He leaned forward. “Travelers are waiting for this. They come to places like Cambodia, they see the beauty, but they also see the need. They want to help. They just don’t know how. All I do is give them a way — to become part of a living symbol of hope.”
The Road Ahead
We finished our coffee. JP checked his phone. “I should go,” he said. “Flight tomorrow. A group is waiting.”
I asked if he was nervous about reaching 1,000.
He smiled. “Not nervous. Excited. We’ll get there. Every trip, a few more bikes. Every group, a few more stories. Every bicycle becomes a symbol of hope that keeps a child in school.”
He stood, picked up his bag, and paused.
Then he was out the door, heading to Siem Reap again — with another group, another load of bicycles, another step toward 1,000.
A New Awakening
I sat for a moment, watching him leave. The café grew quiet, just me and the half-empty cups and the weight of what we had discussed.
My own bicycles in Hue — they helped some children, for a time. Then it stopped. I couldn’t carry it alone.
But watching JP walk out, I realized: I don’t have to carry it alone. None of us do.
JP found the way: invite others in. Travelers are waiting for this. They come to our part of the world — Cambodia, Laos, the Mekong, the Central Highlands of Vietnam — and they want to leave something behind, something meaningful. All we have to do is give them a way — to become part of a symbol of hope that travels across Southeast Asia.
I thought of children in remote villages of Laos, walking kilometers just to reach school. I thought of the ethnic minority kids in the Central Highlands, whose dreams outran the distances they had to walk. They need bicycles too. So many places. So many children. So many travelers ready to help.
JP is on his way to Siem Reap, to give 15 more bicycles, to get closer to 1,000. And I realized: I should continue. Not alone this time. Together. Because every bicycle is a symbol of hope, and hope multiplies when shared.
I picked up my phone and began typing. Perhaps it’s time to reach out to old friends, to travelers I’ve met, to anyone who wants to help. Perhaps it’s time to do this again — not just in Cambodia, but in Laos, in the Mekong, in the Central Highlands of Vietnam.
One bicycle at a time. Many hands. A symbol of hope that never stops rolling.
The road to school is long. But together, we can help them ride it. Every bicycle we give becomes a promise, a future, a door that stays open.
One bicycle. One child. One future. One symbol of hope.
Let’s keep rolling — from Siem Reap to the Mekong, from the highlands to the coast.
