March 24, 2009
Well, surprise! I'm home in Ridgefield, Connecticut. It's not that much of a surprise, really. I've been home a week.
I've been meaning to write a conclusion to this blog, but it's been a struggle to come up with some wonderful moral of the story to sign out on. I've never been good with endings.
The problem is, there is no conclusion. There is no big lesson. I left home thinking travel would help me figure out what I want to do with my life, where I want to live, what I want to be when I grow up. But it did just the opposite. It opened up a whole new world of possibilities.
I had been planning to keep going until May, head back down to the Thai Islands, then explore Hong Kong and China. But after getting back to Bangkok after a big loop through northern Thailand, Laos and Cambodia, I found that I just didn't have it in me to take another overnight bus ride, or adjust to a new language or figure out a new exchange rate. I hit a big wall and got stalled in Asia's sweaty, hot City of Lights.
Sleepless in Bangkok, I started getting in touch with family members, friends and former colleagues at home. I was testing the waters for a return. Could I get my job back at the newspaper company in this awful economic climate? Did I even want to return to that? Could I move to New York and get a job there? Should I just take off again?
I knew I wanted to come home, at least for a little while. I wanted comfort. Travel is exciting but uncomfortable.
What I decided finally is that this isn't the end of my travels. I'm already off next week to return to Greece to pick up that job DJing in Corfu for part of the summer. Big move up in the world: newspaper editor to DJ at a youth hostel. Sorry, DJ's assistant. Even better.
The move back to Europe is to bide my time a little through this summer. The fact is, Greece is the only place in the world where I have a set job. A return to Europe will also allow me to reconnect with many of the friends I made early on in the trip.
Home is strange. There is also a new topic of conversation floating around amongst a large percentage of my friends: Settling down. I listened to a group of my girlfriends talking the other night about the merits of white versus yellow gold wedding rings, picking out a signature drink to match their bridal colors and buying houses in good school districts. I had nothing to say. And I didn't want to bring up my trip. Instead, like in much of the rest of the world, I sat back and observed. When one of my friends called for us to throw in some extra money to tip our waitress, I handed over some Cambodian riel and walked out.
But besides that, home is strange because the familiar become unusual when you're used to the unfamiliar. But how easy it is to slip back into old habits, to pick up the same conversations. Right now I'm torn up inside about leaving again. There seems to be some unfinished business here.
But as I said before, I've never been good at finishing much of anything.
Friday, March 20, 2009
Friday, March 13, 2009
Bug spray
March 13, 2009
For the past six weeks or so I have been doused in mosquito repellent. It is my one line of defense against malaria. I said to hell with the pills. I don't want scary nightmares or hallucinations.
I have a love/hate relationship with bug spray. I'm getting sick of this greesy, chemical smell. When ever I spray it on, I just feel dirty. But, at the same time, this smell and this feel carries with it some nostalgia. It carries with it memories of summer camp and firefly chasing.
It's cool to think that in the future, it will also remind me of the Mekong River, the beaches of Cambodia, and these hot, sweaty nights around Khao San Road in Bangkok. I just saw an elephant walk down Soi Rambootri.
I already feel wistful about this trip and I'm still on it.
For the past six weeks or so I have been doused in mosquito repellent. It is my one line of defense against malaria. I said to hell with the pills. I don't want scary nightmares or hallucinations.
I have a love/hate relationship with bug spray. I'm getting sick of this greesy, chemical smell. When ever I spray it on, I just feel dirty. But, at the same time, this smell and this feel carries with it some nostalgia. It carries with it memories of summer camp and firefly chasing.
It's cool to think that in the future, it will also remind me of the Mekong River, the beaches of Cambodia, and these hot, sweaty nights around Khao San Road in Bangkok. I just saw an elephant walk down Soi Rambootri.
I already feel wistful about this trip and I'm still on it.
Visions of Laos
March 13, 2009
I just purchased a laptop in Bangkok, an item I've been going crazy without for the past 6 and a half months. This blog could've benefited much more if I had a computer with me on long bus trips and during down time from all the sight seeing and the general cultural enrichment.
So, I've finally had a look at all the photos I've taken since India, back in October. Thought I'd show y'all some of the places I've sort of breezed over in the past few weeks.
Laos is a beautiful, vibrant, slow-paced country. The gentle, green Mekong is the lifeblood of the country. Monks draped in saffron robes roam the streets of the cities. Laos is a land of waterfalls and Asian black bears which are much smaller than their North American cousins. They also have manes, like lions.
The little, dusty village of Vang Vieng is a must-stop for the younger backpacker crowd. The draw: tubing down a subsidiary of the Mekong and being roped in (literally) by Lao people at riverside bars, then drinking, dancing, and trapezing back into the river to float to the next drinking establishment. The only problem with this town, beside the yearly casualties of tubing (and people do die from this activity), is that about one in four people get food poisoning while there. I was one such case.
Though I've no photos of it, the capital city of Vientiane is another stop on the trail to Vietnam or Cambodia. It was frightfully hot while I was there. I spent my few days in the city recovering from food poisoning moving from air-conditioned cafe to air-conditioned Internet cafe to air-conditioned museum. Then I continued the journey southward.
The last photos are of a place in southern Laos called 4,000 Islands. This was one of my favorite stops. Many of the islands in the Mekong have only gotten electricity in the past three years. Lao people spend much of the day lazing in hammocks in the shade under their houses built on stilts near the riverside. Though mentioned in the Lonely Planet, this place still feels like it hasn't fully been discovered. In a few years, though, it might just become another Vang Vieng.
Too hot to think
March 13, 2009
I have been meaning to blog for ages, but since arriving back in Bangkok, I've felt like the walking dead. It is so hot here. It's too hot to eat. Too hot to think. Too hot to sleep.
I don't even have the brain power to load photos. That takes time, but little effort, and yet, I can't bring myself to sit in front a computer for long periods of time watching files upload. I will take you back to Laos and to the temples of Angkor and to the Killing Fields and to the lovely beaches of Sihanoukville, as soon as I can get some sleep and inspiration.
I have been meaning to blog for ages, but since arriving back in Bangkok, I've felt like the walking dead. It is so hot here. It's too hot to eat. Too hot to think. Too hot to sleep.
I don't even have the brain power to load photos. That takes time, but little effort, and yet, I can't bring myself to sit in front a computer for long periods of time watching files upload. I will take you back to Laos and to the temples of Angkor and to the Killing Fields and to the lovely beaches of Sihanoukville, as soon as I can get some sleep and inspiration.
Saturday, March 7, 2009
Mugged
March 7, 2009
Today I was mugged.
I'm in Sihanoukville, a Cambodian beach town on the Gulf of Thailand. It's beautiful here. I've spent the past several days here relaxing on a big, white, empty beach, lolling on a sun chair sipping banana shakes. After a week of heavy sightseeing at Angkor Wat and in the busy capital city, Phenom Penh, this place has just been serenity.
This afternoon I was walking back along the main road in town having dropped off a bicycle I rented for a few days. I've had several people warn me about taking care to watch my bags because young men on motorbikes have been known to ride up next to unsuspecting tourists and just tear or cut the bags off people and drive away into the night. While bike riding yesterday with a South African girl I met on the bus from Phenom Pehn, I noticed she was getting hassled by two young men on a motorbike. I passed along the warning and the two of us stopped pedaling and took a detour to avoid the boys who were driving suspiciously slowly around us. We lost them without incident. I felt like a savvy traveler, looking out for my fellows on the road.
Well today walking along this busy street, watching the clouds turn a deep blue as the sun set, I was just thinking about how much I love Cambodia, how it has been one of my favorite stops, and how the people have all been so kind.
To steal a phrase from Divine Secrets of the Ya Ya Sisterhood (a great beach read, btw), just as these pretty pink and blue thoughts were floating about my head, I felt a tug at the back of my shirt. Before I realized what was going on, a young thug riding on the back of his buddy's motorcycle ripped my small money bag right off my body. It happened in a split second. I had no time to react.
I feel really stupid having received all these warnings and even spreading the news to others. I'm angry too, though not as much as I would have expected. I only lost cash, and I think just $30 at that. For having been on the road for more than 200 days, I feel lucky that an incident like this hasn't happened sooner.
When I was in college in Montreal, I was robbed multiple times. Car stolen, bike stolen, bag of shoes stolen from the back of a van during a move. My boyfriend at the time also had his car broken into twice in the four years he visited me. So I'm no stranger to this shitty, sinking, humanity-hating feeling you get when you've just been ripped off.
But I still love Cambodia. I love the people and am fascinated by the history and the culture. Oh, and the food is to die for. If any of you reading this happen upon a Khmer restaurant, order the Fish Amok. It's divine.
I feel like traveling has made me a more accepting person. This is not the worst thing in the world. I'll get over it. By the time I got back to my hostel not 15 minutes after the incident, I felt OK about it. One cigarette and a stiff vodka pineapple helped. I accepted what happened and shrugged it away.
Still, thank god I didn't have my camera on me.
Today I was mugged.
I'm in Sihanoukville, a Cambodian beach town on the Gulf of Thailand. It's beautiful here. I've spent the past several days here relaxing on a big, white, empty beach, lolling on a sun chair sipping banana shakes. After a week of heavy sightseeing at Angkor Wat and in the busy capital city, Phenom Penh, this place has just been serenity.
This afternoon I was walking back along the main road in town having dropped off a bicycle I rented for a few days. I've had several people warn me about taking care to watch my bags because young men on motorbikes have been known to ride up next to unsuspecting tourists and just tear or cut the bags off people and drive away into the night. While bike riding yesterday with a South African girl I met on the bus from Phenom Pehn, I noticed she was getting hassled by two young men on a motorbike. I passed along the warning and the two of us stopped pedaling and took a detour to avoid the boys who were driving suspiciously slowly around us. We lost them without incident. I felt like a savvy traveler, looking out for my fellows on the road.
Well today walking along this busy street, watching the clouds turn a deep blue as the sun set, I was just thinking about how much I love Cambodia, how it has been one of my favorite stops, and how the people have all been so kind.
To steal a phrase from Divine Secrets of the Ya Ya Sisterhood (a great beach read, btw), just as these pretty pink and blue thoughts were floating about my head, I felt a tug at the back of my shirt. Before I realized what was going on, a young thug riding on the back of his buddy's motorcycle ripped my small money bag right off my body. It happened in a split second. I had no time to react.
I feel really stupid having received all these warnings and even spreading the news to others. I'm angry too, though not as much as I would have expected. I only lost cash, and I think just $30 at that. For having been on the road for more than 200 days, I feel lucky that an incident like this hasn't happened sooner.
When I was in college in Montreal, I was robbed multiple times. Car stolen, bike stolen, bag of shoes stolen from the back of a van during a move. My boyfriend at the time also had his car broken into twice in the four years he visited me. So I'm no stranger to this shitty, sinking, humanity-hating feeling you get when you've just been ripped off.
But I still love Cambodia. I love the people and am fascinated by the history and the culture. Oh, and the food is to die for. If any of you reading this happen upon a Khmer restaurant, order the Fish Amok. It's divine.
I feel like traveling has made me a more accepting person. This is not the worst thing in the world. I'll get over it. By the time I got back to my hostel not 15 minutes after the incident, I felt OK about it. One cigarette and a stiff vodka pineapple helped. I accepted what happened and shrugged it away.
Still, thank god I didn't have my camera on me.
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