Cambodia is a small country in the middle of Southeast Asia, with modest access to the sea. Its peculiarity: a central lake, called Tonlé Sap, which can triple in size between the dry season and the rainy season, reaching a peak of ten meters in depth between the two. Entire villages (floating during the rainy season) end up on dry land: motorcycles replace boats. This lake is the very reason for the country’s existence.

Tonlé Sap lies at the heart of Cambodia, alongside the Mekong River, which flows from Laos to Vietnam, passing through Cambodia and its capital, Phnom Penh.

I first visited Cambodia in 2004, traveling by buses, pickups, and motorcycle taxis. It was a liberating journey, from Poipet to Koh Kong, in a place recently freed from the Khmer Rouge. The country had just been reborn. Open to capitalism, Cambodia was about to evolve at a dazzling pace—for better or for worse, depending on one’s point of view.

I returned five times. Each time, I rented a motorcycle, which allowed me to see the country from a different perspective.

I never went into the southwestern mountains between Pailin, Koh Kong, and Pursat, nor into the northeastern mountains or the far north—basically, the underpopulated regions. Which means that it was above all the people who interested me.