When I first sat down to write about my trip, things quickly devolved into a hyper-focused, 4-day writing bender. During my journeys that month, I learned so much about life, the world, and myself, including my passion for the written word. Once every few days, a ghost-like sensation seemed to pull my eyes and my spirits down, until I would finally sit and allow the words to flow out of my fountain pen. I don't think any of it would have been possible had I not chosen to go alone. This material could either make a very interesting and intensely personal memoir or simply remain, as it is, the work of a sporadic blogger.
When my ferry boat approached the island, all I could think was, what a wonderful paradise I am coming to. Is this really real? I am in a postcard. I am literally, walking into the desktop screen savers we used to put up at work back in the U.S. so that we wouldn’t kill ourselves during our 6-month winters. When I got there, I walked up and down, looking for all of the $1 per night accommodations that everyone told me about. I had to settle for $5 in a comfortable bed in a dormitory at a vegetarian restaurant. Perfect, right? I could take a nap in my new bed, or on the beach. I opted for the beach and a good meal. Looking at the water, I still was in shock. Palm trees were literally draping themselves over the warm, turquoise water, showing off. How good was my life right now? How did I get here? All this hell, and now I am here. Did I deserve it?
During those days, I encountered beauty beyond what a photo can handle.
I spent my time lazily wandering beaches and hiking through the heavy foliage of the jungle. Nights were late and filled with laughter, drinks, and dancing. The sweet, slow life of Koh Rong has drawn many people to cancel any plans of departure and never look back. It is exactly like Thailand in its beauty, except few people know about it. I am not doing it a disservice by writing about it here, as in 5 years it will be developed by a corporation, unfortunately. But now, in 2016, it is the most untouched piece of paradise I have ever set foot upon, rivalled only slightly by the Philippines. You can essentially live for free as long as you work one of the island’s many part-time “work away” jobs. I encountered the feeling of love again. I strolled around with a tall, sweet, guy who enamored me, drawing my attention to where we were, to the stars in the sky, to the way the plankton danced and sparkled in the waters below. Something softened in me; walls that I had built to keep myself loyal in the past, began to fall down. I didn’t know it at the time, but that was the true purpose of my time in Koh Rong. To tear down walls. To see that life gives us many chances. I also encountered detachment and learned, once more, to leave what’s not meant to be. Hanging on my refrigerator, in this, perhaps the most challenging year of my life, is a resolution to be content in whatever circumstances in which I may find myself. Cambodia was a journey filled with exactly that: absolute, beautiful contentment.
Just as suddenly as those feelings came, once they had been learned, it was as if a powerful, magnetic force was pulling me to find my next adventure. I left for Siem Reap, the ancient city of Angkor Wat and its majestic temples. There, I visited monuments unfathomably constructed in only 30 short years, as the people believed one was necessary to build prior to the end of their very short lifespans. I saw nauseating opulence, extreme poverty, compassionate travellers, and travellers who literally said they did not feel like it was their responsibility to help the poor. I spent hours listening to tales of the ancient wars and the stringent rules for women in the temple. I found my spirituality evolving away from anything that smacked of dogma, including some of the Buddhist traditions I formerly admired. I did not voice these thoughts in the temples, of course, as each has a right to his or her opinion, but my eyes were opened to my own truth. I learned to admire the beauty of each place, feel the sacredness that rested within each, and to appreciate them as pieces of history which I, yes I, was able to walk through. A little Midwestern girl who didn’t get her first passport until age 22.
After two days of exploring, I sprained my toe on a temple stone. It screamed and throbbed with pain, and within an hour, I couldn’t walk on it at all. Not wanting to waste any travelling time, I decided it was definitely okay to follow through with my plans to go to Bangkok that evening. I had a few cocktails by the hostel pool to treat the pain. It later dawned on me that the airline officials would smell that and assume that my injury story about the temple was a cover up for some other poor choices. Oh well. :) I was given VIP treatment in the airport, wheeled through the fastest immigration and security lines in my life, and later, hopped on one foot to my hostel. (Turns out that Bangkok Air doesn’t let you keep their wheelchairs). A kindly old Ukrainian medic stopped me to check my toe and ordered me to bed for two days while it healed, warning that the entire three weeks that remained on my trip might have to be cancelled if I pushed it. I obliged and spent a serene, uneventful two days in the busiest city in Thailand.
To be continued…
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Amanda Whitmore. Shareable with
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