reedwj
Member
Our Departure
We’d booked a flight, but only a month and a half later our fragile itinerary was already crumbling. I’d separated my shoulder. My AC joint was gone and so were our hopes of a stress free departure. Fresh out of college and essentially broke, neither Brittany nor I owned a single trip ready belonging. We’d drifted through college as humble ski bums, and though we weren’t without possessions, nothing we had would lend itself to dancing along the equator. We saw something refreshing in taking just the basics, but committing to minimalism was proving harder than we had anticipated. I loved the idea of carrying a 35-liter bag, but it demanded a shorter pack-list. The lighter the bag the heavier my anxiety became.
We had done our homework, but no amount of planning could defuse all of the pre-departure stress. I was ready, we were ready, but doubt was building. It was building on added expenses and a dwindling budget, and it was only solidified by trying to hang my strikingly light backpack from my strikingly asymmetrical shoulders. Sweaty palms, and sleepless nights- the product of equal parts excitement and honest apprehension…
New Year’s came and New Year’s past. We were set to leave on the 6th, but on the 3rd when an unexpected health concern had Brittany’s doctor calling our departure date ill-advised, we decided to delay our exodus another week. The brief hold made for an unsettling week, but it also produced a few warped days of calm. Convoluted as it was, it was a byzantine opportunity; a chance to fix problems and tie up loose ends, a chance to do what would otherwise have gone undone. Unfortunately not all snags can be de-snared in a week. On the 12th Britt got the green light from her doctor; our trouble shoot window had passed. It took with it my hopes of a miraculous recovery - the immobility sling was coming with us. A whispering voice begged questions of prudence but where preparation left off determination picked up. We had a vague plan and enough ambition to bridge the gaps. Learning by doing - we were going.
Our Arrival
Our flight landed in Phnom Penh at just after 12:00 AM. By that time our sleep pattern was so jumbled the hour was almost immaterial, but twenty hours of travel had taken their toll. Excited and loosely conscious we grabbed our packs and pin-balled up the jet-way. Stepping out of the plane the temperature shift was dizzying. Across 20 feet the temperature climbed 20 degrees, and even after midnight the humidity was crushing. Swimming through delirium and dripping air, Britt and I inched forward though the customs line and tried to prepare ourselves for the onslaught waiting outside. Even walking past the baggage carousel we could already hear it; the opening sales line that would become synonymous with taxi drivers: “My Friend, My Friend…”
The hard sell is on in Cambodia. With bright smiles and agonizing persistence they ask and ask until no becomes yes. Negotiation skills are highly regarded, and I was eager to prove my worth but after a 20 hour flight my commitment was wavering. In a moment of weakness I was the easy sell. Brittany, generally far more willful than I, proved equally compliant. We feigned interest in haggling but eventually just accepted the “standard” price for a ride into town.
Deciding against a tuk-tuk* we stepped into an unmarked car/ pseudo-taxi and became instantly paranoid that we were already being scammed. As the driver casually cruised through red lights and continually treated laws as inexplicit guide lines, I couldn’t help but feel like we were being driven the wrong way. The city seemed seedier and more threatening with every block. The roads narrowed and life receded into the shadows, every alley we turned down pushed the hair at the back of my neck to attention. Paranoia and exhaustion made me painfully irritable and as I waved off our driver’s frequent hotel suggestions I continually ordered him back to larger streets. He humored me for a moment, but three blocks later we were in yet another dark alley. As we rolled to a stop fear overpowered logic. I blindly began barking orders: “I thought I…”
Before I could finish forming a thought he silenced my rant with a calm gesture. With his palm up, and his eyes down, our driver extended his hand toward the well lit lobby of a shabby sheik hotel. We had arrived as promised at our overpriced destination. We checked in and were showed to our room. Within five minutes I had surrendered unconditionally to exhaustion.
*a tuk-tuk is a motorcycle drawn carriage
We’d booked a flight, but only a month and a half later our fragile itinerary was already crumbling. I’d separated my shoulder. My AC joint was gone and so were our hopes of a stress free departure. Fresh out of college and essentially broke, neither Brittany nor I owned a single trip ready belonging. We’d drifted through college as humble ski bums, and though we weren’t without possessions, nothing we had would lend itself to dancing along the equator. We saw something refreshing in taking just the basics, but committing to minimalism was proving harder than we had anticipated. I loved the idea of carrying a 35-liter bag, but it demanded a shorter pack-list. The lighter the bag the heavier my anxiety became.
We had done our homework, but no amount of planning could defuse all of the pre-departure stress. I was ready, we were ready, but doubt was building. It was building on added expenses and a dwindling budget, and it was only solidified by trying to hang my strikingly light backpack from my strikingly asymmetrical shoulders. Sweaty palms, and sleepless nights- the product of equal parts excitement and honest apprehension…
New Year’s came and New Year’s past. We were set to leave on the 6th, but on the 3rd when an unexpected health concern had Brittany’s doctor calling our departure date ill-advised, we decided to delay our exodus another week. The brief hold made for an unsettling week, but it also produced a few warped days of calm. Convoluted as it was, it was a byzantine opportunity; a chance to fix problems and tie up loose ends, a chance to do what would otherwise have gone undone. Unfortunately not all snags can be de-snared in a week. On the 12th Britt got the green light from her doctor; our trouble shoot window had passed. It took with it my hopes of a miraculous recovery - the immobility sling was coming with us. A whispering voice begged questions of prudence but where preparation left off determination picked up. We had a vague plan and enough ambition to bridge the gaps. Learning by doing - we were going.
Our Arrival
Our flight landed in Phnom Penh at just after 12:00 AM. By that time our sleep pattern was so jumbled the hour was almost immaterial, but twenty hours of travel had taken their toll. Excited and loosely conscious we grabbed our packs and pin-balled up the jet-way. Stepping out of the plane the temperature shift was dizzying. Across 20 feet the temperature climbed 20 degrees, and even after midnight the humidity was crushing. Swimming through delirium and dripping air, Britt and I inched forward though the customs line and tried to prepare ourselves for the onslaught waiting outside. Even walking past the baggage carousel we could already hear it; the opening sales line that would become synonymous with taxi drivers: “My Friend, My Friend…”
The hard sell is on in Cambodia. With bright smiles and agonizing persistence they ask and ask until no becomes yes. Negotiation skills are highly regarded, and I was eager to prove my worth but after a 20 hour flight my commitment was wavering. In a moment of weakness I was the easy sell. Brittany, generally far more willful than I, proved equally compliant. We feigned interest in haggling but eventually just accepted the “standard” price for a ride into town.
Deciding against a tuk-tuk* we stepped into an unmarked car/ pseudo-taxi and became instantly paranoid that we were already being scammed. As the driver casually cruised through red lights and continually treated laws as inexplicit guide lines, I couldn’t help but feel like we were being driven the wrong way. The city seemed seedier and more threatening with every block. The roads narrowed and life receded into the shadows, every alley we turned down pushed the hair at the back of my neck to attention. Paranoia and exhaustion made me painfully irritable and as I waved off our driver’s frequent hotel suggestions I continually ordered him back to larger streets. He humored me for a moment, but three blocks later we were in yet another dark alley. As we rolled to a stop fear overpowered logic. I blindly began barking orders: “I thought I…”
Before I could finish forming a thought he silenced my rant with a calm gesture. With his palm up, and his eyes down, our driver extended his hand toward the well lit lobby of a shabby sheik hotel. We had arrived as promised at our overpriced destination. We checked in and were showed to our room. Within five minutes I had surrendered unconditionally to exhaustion.
*a tuk-tuk is a motorcycle drawn carriage
