(Disclaimer: I am no
longer in Cambodia, but I am behind on my blog because I’m living in the now.
So just bear with me as I retell my past.)
One of the most beautiful things about being a backpacker is
the challenge that comes with the journey. It’s not all meant to be easy and
fun, most of the personal growth comes from the moments when you are wondering
how the heck you got yourself in this situation.
With only a few weeks in Cambodia time was a precious,
precious thing. So as I travelled I decided to use the overnight bus system
around the country. And what an experience that was.
From Siem Reap I booked the first-class limo bus sleeper to
the south. I was picked up from my hotel and walked outside very puzzled- a
pickup truck calling my name. The truck meandered through side streets, but
before I could produce a nightmare story in my head we had stopped for a new
passenger and I was no longer alone in the back of this open latched car. After
cramming 8 people, with luggage cuddled in our laps, we all assured ourselves
this was the private transport to the bus station.
I had been warned about the Cambodia night sleepers. Yes,
there would be aircon. Yes, there would be tv screens. Yes, you’d be sharing this
horizontal piece of space with a stranger. Yes, you had to snuggle your luggage
to keep it from being stolen. No, there was not a bathroom. But instead of
sending out negative energy to the universe, instead of building up anxiety
about sharing a space with a sweaty Khmer man, I just figured it would all work
out.
This lucky girl got seated in the top bunk with a fellow
American! The chances! We decided on a head to toe sleeping approach and
immediately began to shiver as we realized they had the aircon blasting on us
for the whole bus. Within the first hour we also realized it would be a very
bumpy ride with our bodies taking slight flight every few minutes. And I felt
my fellow bunk buddy getting frustrated; I started to complain in my head for a
second. Then I thought to myself how I was just at a retreat with only two fans
for a room of six- I remembered the luxury of my current situation. I also
reminded myself how painful it was to sit still for hours on end during all
that meditation. So I took the constant jumble as a blessing, to have the
chance to finally move again. Halfway through the journey one of the bus crew
came in the back to check on the aircon and scared the shit out of me.
Panicked, I awoke clinging onto my belongings like a baby to their blanket. He
started laughing and pointed at my friend, him, and then me. He said “1, 2, 3?”
as if to motion that he was going to join us. My bunkmate shrieked, “Oh no,
no,” and he snickered closing our curtain.
It was an adventure- a great way to dip my toes into
Southeast Asia overnight travel. And I didn’t realize how much of a class limo
service it really was until I was on the overnight bus to Bangkok a week later.
I remember leaving Otres Beach and my friend from the
retreat, Helen, asked me if I was nervous for the next journey I was embarking
on. My reply was an easy, “no, I’m ready.” I think I’m very privileged to have
come to such a blissful state of mind. I’m no longer anxious about the future
or past. What will come, will come. There is no point in freighting. I just
want to use all the energy I have in the here and now. In this moment right
here. And wow, what a weight has been lifted in myself by allowing the mind to
function in this way.
If my bus south were to be classified as a limo, my bus to
Thailand would be categorized as a used camper van in the last leg of its life.
Yet again I was fortunate to be seated next to an American girl. Seats were
arranged more like lounge chairs, but I know you are imagining luxury beach
seats, these were made of cracked leather wreaking of human sweat. No TVs.
Shifty aircon. A bumpy ride with the engine moaning the whole way. The drive
was estimated to be a 14-hour ride. Ultimately, it took 30 hours to arrive in
Thailand.
I woke up constantly along the journey. At one point, I
realized the road we were driving on was being created as we were on it. A plow
in front of us while we made our way through. Every so often I’d ask the crew how
much longer to the next checkpoint. Each time, the same answer: two hours. But
it was never just two hours.
I jerked up after a slobbery slumber and was informed we had
been sitting still for over an hour and that they were working on the engine. I
decided to relieve my bladder as I stepped off the bus and saw this Khmer lady
talking frantically to some internationals. She shared with us that the person
driving for the past 10 hours had no idea how to drive; he was a luggage
manager whom the bus driver forced to take the wheel because he was too tired.
No wonder the engine was damaged. I decided to find the toilet and kept being
directed behind this tiny shack. I will forever remember this moment that I’m
not sure I can detail in words. I kept trudging through the dirt, unaware of
far surroundings since everything was a blur without my contacts on. I held my
breath as I went through a corridor of smoke, a massive pile of trash was being
burnt, and my eyes blackened as I escaped through. Finally I was at the
bathroom where I placed 20 cents into a jar. I opened the stall door and was
immediately smacked with rankness. A hole in the ground to pee in- I did my
best to squat while keeping my hair from brushing the dirty floor beneath me.
No toilet paper. I looked up and realized there was another hole- the shit
corner. I did my best to dry shake and get out of there as quickly as possible.
If you asked me before this trip to use such a toilet, I wouldn’t even do so if
you paid me. Now I’m paying to squat in the dirt. Did I say, travel forces you
to change?
Back on the bus to continue this wild ride. I was getting
used to my sleeping space, and then it began to pour, water started seeping in
from the windows. And I covered myself with my raincoat- praying, hoping that I
wouldn’t destroy my computer. We stopped constantly to let Khmer locals on to
cram in the aisles and freeload. We had a handful of bathroom breaks that
entailed using a flashlight and touching as few surfaces as possible. I
couldn’t even remind myself I had fasted for a day because I was so overwhelmed
with discomfort and filth.
As we finally stepped off the bus to transfer to an aircon
mini-bus in Thailand I had the biggest grin on my face. I survived. I did it. I
walked across the border into Thailand filled with such accomplishment. I
entered customs to crossover into my new home for the next half-year, joy
permeated over the stench of overnight travel grime. A thai lady stamped my
passport, seeing my working visa she asked, “You Teacher?” I nodded with pride.
She held my hands, with a compassionate eye connection, and elated, “thank you,
thank you, thank you.” I felt like the most powerful person on the planet.
Accomplished. Blessed. Never in my life have I felt so full, like I was enough.
Because I am enough.
You are enough. Not
because you did or said or thought or bought or became or created something
special. But because you always were. You always are.
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