The Morning Fruit Harvest: A Cycle Ride Through Siem Reap's Orchards

A Dawn Start in Svay Dangkum

The first light over the rice fields is soft and pink, and the air smells of damp earth and woodsmoke from the previous evening’s cooking fires. We leave Siem Reap town on rented bicycles, heading east along the quiet road toward the commune of Svay Dangkum. Within twenty minutes, the guesthouses and cafes thin out, replaced by sugar palm trees and low wooden houses on stilts. The only sounds are the creak of our chains and the distant, rhythmic thud of a mortar pounding rice.

We are here for the fruit. The orchards around Svay Dangkum are not tourist attractions; they are working farms that supply the town’s markets. Our guide, a farmer named Mr. Sokha, meets us at the edge of his family’s land, a patchwork of mango, rambutan, and pomelo trees. He hands us each a wide-brimmed hat and a small knife, and we set off between the rows.

The Trees and Their Gifts

Mr. Sokha’s orchard is a lesson in patience. The mango trees are tall and gnarled, some over thirty years old, their branches heavy with green and blushing-red fruit. He shows us how to tell when a mango is ready: the skin should give slightly under gentle pressure, and the stem should snap cleanly. We pick one, and he slices it open on the spot. The flesh is deep orange, almost glowing, and the juice runs down our wrists. It is sweet, with a hint of resin, utterly unlike anything we have bought in town.

Further along, we duck under the low canopy of rambutan trees. The fruit hangs in clusters, each one covered in soft, red spines that look dangerous but are surprisingly gentle. We pull one off, squeeze it between our palms until the skin splits, and pop the translucent white flesh into our mouths. It is refreshing, slightly acidic, and tastes like a cross between a grape and a lychee. Mr. Sokha laughs at our expressions and picks another, showing us how to avoid the bitter seed at the centre.

The pomelo trees are the giants of the orchard, their thick leaves shading the ground below. Pomelos are not like the sweet grapefruits we know; they are drier, with a thick pith and a subtle bitterness that makes them perfect for salads. Mr. Sokha cuts one open and peels back the rind, revealing the pale pink segments. We eat them in the shade, the juice stinging our lips, and listen to the buzz of bees in the nearby flowers.

The Orchards of Preah Dak

After a couple of hours, we cycle further north to the village of Preah Dak, a name we recognise from the nearby temple of Banteay Srei. The road here is red dirt, and the wheels of our bicycles kick up small clouds of dust. The orchards are larger and more commercial, with rows of mango trees stretching to the horizon. We stop at a small family-run farm that also keeps a few cows and a pond full of lotus. The owner, a woman named Mrs. Chann, offers us glasses of fresh coconut water and shows us her durian trees, which she warns us to smell before tasting.

We do smell one. The durian is infamous for its pungent aroma, and this one does not disappoint. It is overwhelming, like sweet onions and ripe cheese, and we understand why it is banned from many hotels. Mrs. Chann laughs and cuts it open anyway, offering us a small piece of the custardy flesh. It is creamy and complex, and we are surprised to find ourselves going back for more.

The Market at Banteay Srei

By mid-morning, the heat is building, and we decide to head back toward town. But first, we stop at the small market near the Banteay Srei temple, which is held every morning under a cluster of tarpaulin roofs. Here, the farmers bring their surplus fruit to sell. We see pyramids of green mangoes, baskets of tiny bananas, and piles of jackfruit that look like prehistoric weapons. The air is thick with the smell of ripe fruit and the chatter of bargaining. We buy a bag of longans, small brown spheres that we crack open with our teeth, revealing a sweet, floral flesh.

The market is a good place to try fruit we have never heard of before. We ask the vendors what they recommend, and they point us to a pile of small, yellow fruit called “santol.” We buy a few, peel them, and eat the white segments around the seeds. They are sour and refreshing, perfect for the heat. We also try “soursop,” a spiky green fruit that we later learn is best blended into a smoothie.

Getting there

From Siem Reap town, cycle east along National Road 6 for about 5 kilometres, then turn left onto the small road that leads to Svay Dangkum commune. The orchards are on both sides of the road, and many farmers are happy to let you walk through if you ask politely. For Preah Dak, continue north on the same road for another 8 kilometres, or hire a tuk-tuk for the day if you prefer not to cycle. The Banteay Srei market is just outside the temple complex, about 30 kilometres from Siem Reap; a tuk-tuk takes about an hour.

Good to know

• The best time to visit the orchards is between November and April, when the mango and rambutan seasons are at their peak. Early morning is cooler and the fruit is fresher.
• Always ask permission before picking fruit. Most farmers are happy to let you taste, but they may charge a small fee for a basket to take away.
• Wear long trousers and closed shoes. The orchards are home to ants and the occasional snake, and the rambutan spines can scratch bare legs.
• Bring water and a small knife. You will want to cut into fruit as you go, and the heat will make you thirsty.

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