Dear Family and Friends,

Beyond the 1920s open-style second floor with cotton-cushioned hard teak chairs and smooth tables, the soft, starry night with crickets chirping awaits. I’m rather comfortably fitted into an ergonomic chair; my computer desk is lit by a long florescent light fixed on the wall about 6 inches from the ceiling – and swarming with 11 geckoes (at last count). I have been over the border of Cambodia for less than two days and I’m practically having the shakes due to computer deprivation. I have a veritable flood of words and descriptions and questions and observations that I’d like to write for myself and share with you all – and my journal + hand are just not enough. It is driving me crazy. But I’d rather be a laptop-deprived crazy “madame” in Cambodia than well, many other places.

On Saturday morning, I pulled my rather heavy large suitcases to my friend/traveling companion’s bedroom down the hall at the Wendy House and then popped downstairs for a final breakfast. After my making some phone calls and rushing around, us two travelers and the friend that we were leaving behind sat down for a large omelet, some bacon, some coffee and some fruit. Eventually, a crowd began to gather as our third traveler and a few other classmates wandered into the W House cafe. I do so hate good-byes... especially when I do not know what the future holds and whether I will ever see this person that I’ve so liked again. After winning an argument with a taxi cab driver about using the meter to take us to the bus station (the winning phrase from my frustrated friend was: “but your sign says ‘taxi-meter’- shouldn’t you use the meter?”), we shook hands/hugged our friends, climbed into the cab and had a smooth ride to the station. We were supposed to meet our forth companion at KFC in the bus station upon our arrival. I settled with our suitcases while our traveling coordinating friend researched our fourth companion and inquired into buses. He quickly realized that the bus that we had to take was in 25 minutes and we all were dubious that our forth could make it. I’ll skip the ensuing drama except to note that it was almost worthy of any film comedy and that my friend should’ve won a metal of honor for his efforts. As the bus took off and the porter came around with turquoise cardboard rectangular boxes imprinted with Thai famous sites and filled with hand little items such as a straw with a pointed end, biscuits (aka odd smelling cookies), instant coffee + powered milk + sugar, our Siem Reap traveling group was reduced from four to three.

It took forever to leave Bangkok on the bus... we drove and we drove a lot more before finally the buildings began to stand further apart and the amount of greenery began to increase. The bus seats were already filled upon our Bangkok departure but we stopped along the way for more passengers... and the late-comers had to stand in the aisles and cling to available surfaces for stability. The bus had air con and was quite comfortable – although the “toilet” was unspeakable. I imagine that the bus ride was comparable or even nicer than a Greyhound bus. And at ~$6 to the border, you cannot beat the price. Anyway, at first I was fascinated by the scenery out the window and entertained by the conversation behind me – between my friend and a nice American man with beaming blue eyes. That conversation came to a rather abrupt finish after my friend mentioned that he isn’t terribly fond of missionaries coming to Cambodia and offering food in exchange for religious conversion only to find out that the American was a Jehovah’s witness. Yeah. Oh. My friend next to me began to nod off and I did the same for a bit but I don’t think that I dozed long. I awoke and returned my attention to the Thai countryside that was whizzing by. I kept trying to stuff my head with every detail: the pre-manufactured spirit houses for sale, the lime green grass fields, the ramshackle houseboats clinging to the sides of dirty canals, the occasional town with bumpy side-roads that our bus would stop off at. The point at which my memory began to protest was when we passed park in the center of a town that had a bright red temple on top of an easy green hill and surrounded by an uncountable number of roosters. There were so many roosters that I wanted to laugh aloud and crack a less-than-kosher jokes... so I pulled out my journal and began to make notes.

As we rode along I found the countryside a puzzling combination of recognizable and utterly foreign. I had had my usual allotment of coffee so I didn’t truly believe that I was dreaming and I knew that it should be ok to find the view foreign because well, I had never been beyond Bangkok. It took me a while of furrowing my brow to realize that bits and pieces were familiar – just not assembled as I had ever seen: the people, the vehicles & the shapes of the Wats are readily found in Bangkok, the roads resemble my memory of England, and I had seen the country-side itself in coffee table or tourist picture books. At one point, I noticed a yard of pre-manufactured Wat yard decorations (someday I’ll figure out the terminology for these) and this inspired me to puzzle about the meaning of the different shapes, the usage of different materials, and realize that I have no clue how to place Thai/Asian architecture on to a time/history continuum. Further, I began to wonder where I could begin answering these sorts of questions: I don’t really have a clue but I do so adore design and foresee a great deal of asking dumb questions and reading on this subject.

During our final week, our CELTA class enjoyed a brainstorming exercise where we needed to come up with subjects to discuss while at a party. Everyone else was caught up with celebrity gossip, family matters, how one’s job is going when I earnestly piped up that I usually discuss the weather. This caused a few chuckles and comments about how exciting a conversationalist/partygoer I must be... which prompted me to defiantly insist that my party topic be given equal weight to “favorite music” and be written on the board. I’m a Seattleite and Seattleites love to discuss the weather: whether it is too hot, too cold, too rainy, too sunny, too boring... Anyway, as I sat on the Thai bus, fields whizzing by, I noticed a huge cumulous cloud building high into the sky and I thought: oh, joy, I can see the weather! And I could. I could see dark clouds in the distance on the right-side, mist on the left and the sunny strip on the road practically guiding our bus... I could see miles into the distance and I could imagine the clouds sweeping across our road to spatter rain across the windshield. I pictured Bangkok, a place where my only awareness that I’m living on the planet earth versus any other big rock floating in the sky is the occasional rain squall that necessitates pulling out one’s umbrella. I mentally compared Bangkok, a city covered in concrete and grime with tenacious plants sprouting from unlikely locations while I drank in the Thai countryside’s clouds and fields. I hope I don’t seem overly clichéd when I say that I was rather exultant to return to earth (literal earth & clouds)...

We reached the bus station at the border town of Att-something just past 1:30 pm. We spent a few minutes mailing a cell phone sim card, raiding 7-11 for some lunch (bun-covered sausages) and water, and utilizing the facilities – which involved more squatting and splashing than I’m sure that you’d prefer to read about. My friend in charge negotiated a tuk-tuk for 80 Baht to the border and we piled 2 suitcases and 3 bums into the back and tore off to the border. It took us about 10 minutes of wending past markets and shops, being passed by motorbikes and passing bikes or lorries to reach the border. The driver dropped us off and we grabbed our luggage and headed to the Thai border where we stood a long line of backpacked travelers to have our passports stamped and for my friend to pay the fine that he had assiduously worked to avoid (apparently a 30 day Visa is actually only effective for 29 days and then you have to pay a fine of 500B – this defies quite a bit of reason but is stamped on your passport rendering the fine unarguable). After departing from Thailand, we crossed a bridge spanning an area filled with garbage, walked through a bunch of dust, skirted various people and at some point arrived in Cambodia.

We walked under the sign that said “Welcome to the Kingdom of Cambodia” and then placed ourselves in another line: again populated with a plethora of identical non-conformist backpackers and staffed by two slow bureaucrats processing Visas for admittance to Cambodia. Already my savvy-friend had begun negotiating with a taxi driver for our journey to Siem Reap and every once in a while the man would pop his head in to lower the price or tell us about his air con. After my Visa was stamped a good 6 times, we were herded on to an open-air bus with metal mesh seats and told that we could find a taxi at the end of that ride. We were now in the border town of Poi Pet, Cambodia and the roads were unpaved, muddy and we bumped against the metal seats. My tail bone was not pleased. We arrived at a bus station to find ourselves in the midst of a turf war re: organized/non-organized taxi drivers but eventually found ourselves in a mud-splattered, air conditioned cab with leather seats and a competent driver.

And the next few hours were really adventurous... but frankly, I’ve been typing on an unfriendly keyboard for a while now and I need to go to bed as tomorrow (Monday) is our first day at the Wats. As you see, I have computer access, so there will be more later.

While you are waiting for my next installment, feel free to concentrate on remembering and then forgetting everything you know about Cambodia. It is a beautiful, horrible puzzlement.

Love,

Laura