(Sihanoukville, 5. 6.)
I haven’t written in a while, huh? There was a good reason for it. It began like this:
(Kampot, 25. 5.)
I sit on a bus from Phnom Penh to southern Cambodia. I try to cry and let it go, and I try to hide it from my co-travellers at the same time. Fortunately, next to me is sitting an old lady, who seems to be sensitive enough to pretend she doesn’t know. I spent all morning killing piggies, so I wouldn’t have to feel or think, now is the time to live it fully through so it doesn’t stick with me any more. In every case, it is already much better than at night, when I tried to reconceal myself with the facts but at the same time tortured myself with hope that it will yet end up different. It didn’t, and that’s good. It is done, clear and even I would probably not take it back…
I wanted this so much to be it. I believed that it was possible, that if we both tried, we could live together happily forever. I didn’t want to admit that it was a furious wish, not reality. My wanting and my stuborness. That must be the block on my solar plexus.
The lady offered me some delicious seeds that taste like new wallnuts, also some fruit. Something like a lychee with a mangostine taste, only it looks like a little apricot. Love goes through a stomach. Haha.
That is a Czech proverb, meaning that love and food are connected. I find it very awkward now. I am not trying to be unnecessarily sarcastic but you know what happens with the love once it makes its way through the stomach? Yup.
Apart from feeling pain and sadness and disappointment and failure, I am also looking forward to this new situation. Have you always wanted some adventure, Janica? So now you can show off how you can deal with one. Yes mom, I will be careful, don’t worry. But now I can do it all in my way. I was writing in the post from Chiang Mai that the ascent to Doi Suthep was one of the best experiences here, right? I didn’t want to be that explicit but it was something so different from the rest. It was so mine, so fully lived through, without any compromises, discussions, without limiting someone or being limited. So free. I am not trying to say that I didn’t like travelling with Mr. Black. Those were really beautiful 2 months (and 4 years). But I am somehow getting a feeling that it is all only about to start now. I must be crazy.
(Sihanoukville again, 5. 6.)
Something really started that day. I will try to be as brief as possible, however, there were quite a few things happening in the last 10 days. Of course I felt like shit. I was also a bit terrified of all that travelling alone idea. It is different to Camino or any of my European travels, I was thinking; there the culture and system is not so different from what I know from home. People are similar, you know what to expect from them. And the emergency ticket home costs maximum of 100 €. Moreover, I really hadn’t planned this so and it was a shock to me at first. But whatever it is, I got used to calling it my Lucky Star (knock-knock on wood), it started arranging things for me already in the very first evening and has been working hard since then. So:
First Parables – The Broken Hearts Club
I found a dorm in Kampot, which is a nice town but I couldn’t appreciate it fully then (the most important thing is that they have a durian monument there), and went for some (dinner and) beers.
(Kampot again, 25. 5.)
Well, live it fully through. That’s not that bad, you feel the drive and know what to do. You practically cannot do anything else than that apart from blocking yourself and getting your body and mind stuck with something that will bother you for years. So you feel the emotions to the bottom. What next?
Then comes the vacuum. It is way worse. There is no strong emotion to lead you. Just letargy, numbness. My personal recommendation is alcohol. First reason: it brings you among people, even if they are sitting at the next table and don’t notice you. Still better than sitting alone in a dorm and repeat the same thoughts all over again in your head. Second reason: it helps you to come to that dorm, fall on your bed and fall asleep instantly. If you slept maximum 2 hours the last night and without booze, it would be very likely to be the same scenario tonight, it is your best buddy.
My plan is to lie on a beach for the next few days. Because sun is a life and positivity donor and because I haven’t tanned my legs and belly yet. And because I need some solitude to digest it all. Solitude that I can not bare, which is why I spend the whole evening in a pub, just not to be alone with myself.
Hangover, in fact. Not drunk, not sober. Just feeling blunt pain of a process leading from one to the other. You know hangover, don’t you? It sucks.
(Sihanoukville again, 5. 6.)
The company at the next table were two young German girls. I joined them in the end. And that was the first of encounters and events that seemed perfectly tailor-made for me:
(Kep, 26. 5.)
I have met two 20-year-old chicks from Germany yesterday. They both came here, each of them separately though, to deal with a break-up. And after they both make it and start enjoying themselves, having travelled through half of SE Asia each of them on her own, they bumb into me, a girl with a fresh Weltschmerz, and help me so much that it is unbelievable. We went to the beach together again and had a nice day. Sure, I still expect mood switches but today a sun already shone for me again and I was able to enjoy a moment. Not bad for a second day after being dumped!
When I see how many teenagers or very young people just pack their bag and set off alone to Asia, I feel like an idiot for my yesterday’s worries. When did I shit my pants so much? If a 20-year old girl has no problem travelling solo around Cambodia, what am I affraid of, with all my hiking and scout experience and pride?
(Sihanoukville, 5. 6.)
The girls continued on their way and I was pampering myself in quiet, sun, waves, lots of cigarettes, evening beers and was slowly getting better at playing pool. I started thinking in a direction of what I could have done better, if I am to weird (for sure), if I am able to be happy and similar nonsense. And the answer was…
Second Parables – Maria
Maria is from Croatia, 20 years older than me, married to a Dutch man with whome she lives in China. We met on the beach one morning, us two alone on that stripe of white sand. With most people it would end up on a double “hello”. Not with Maria.
“The water is so warm! Where are you from? I said to myself – I am going to the beach today! My husband hates it. He went for a motorbike trip instead. He is being lazy all year round, coming home after work and not willing to move, but on holiday, he suddenly becomes active. Funny, isn’t it? But I don’t mind. We do each what we like and then we meet. He doesn’t have it easy with me, anyway. I am tough and demanding and we are so different. But we are hapilly married for 23 years now.”
Maria managed to tell me about her whole life and her husband in the first 10 minutes of our conversation. I loved her. She was lively and charming and sincere and open and sooo talkative. And when she talked about her and her husband, she could have easily meant me and Mr. Black. It was so similar that I didn’t believe in coincidences any more. The only difference was that it works for them. They both decided to overcome their differences, to respect them and focus on things that they have in common and what they value on each other. And it is worth the effort for both of them.
We ended up going for a coffee, then lunch together, and Maria’s husband and her 91-year-old dad, who was here on holiday with them (it is probably too cold in Croatia), joined us and we had some nice hours together. And despite she is a loud, extravert, spontaneous lady and he quiet, decent, restrained man, love between them was almost possible to touch. They looked at each other like if they had fallen in love a week ago.
I understood it this way: my previous thoughts of what was wrong with me and if I should start working on changing something, to adjust my level of expressed energy etc., were stupid. Because I saw a lady that was just like me, if I will manage to be so great in my 51, and she was purely herself, not restrained, not compromising. And she was lovely. So I took from it that instead of moderating my wildness, I need to let it flourish into a blossom that mother nature, lucky star or maybe just me want me to be.
Thank you for everything, wise, curious and warmhearted Maria.
On the next day in Kep, I rented an automatic scooter and went off to learn how to drive it, which is in fact not so difficult. But it was another step to embrace my independence and to enjoy the feeling of freedom. I let both those feelings die a bit lately, for some strange, unknown reason. Mr. Black was riding the motorbike here everytime we rented it. I wandered in the dirt roads, turning randomly on crossroads, through villages, fields, salt fields and brooks and in the end arrived to the Vietnamese border that is 23 km from Kep. So I turned around, went back, got lost, found myself again, parked the scooter under a hill with Kep’s national park, went for some hours to hike in a jungle (flip-flops, of course, again) and decided that if I wanted to go to the Rabbit Island the following day, I need to drive to Kampot and back to withdraw some money as I had only 30 dollars on me. Extra 46 km. No problem. On the way back it got already dark, but after some while I realized how to switch on the lights (I originally thought they didn’t work which would not be weird at all) and arrived safely in front of my guesthouse. Made about 100 km on that day. I felt like if I just had made a world record in… (you choose). I was very proud of myself and I knew that I would make this all.
I also can not leave out support of 3 people I told the recent story. You know who you are. Thank you so much for being there for me. You told me just the right things and kept me at least virtual company. Happy I know you.
The Rabbit Island, that was already real holiday. Just a few people, good food – CRABS! my God (my appetit started coming back), sun, beautiful white beach, palm trees, sea with microorganisms glowing at night when you swam through them, my own straw hut with a hammock on the terrace, more hammocks all over the beach on convenient places, sun decks, shadow under the trees in a restaurant, Hanzi, my German little brother, and an Australian family David, Tashi, Jack and Skye.
I originally wanted to stay there just for one night but they became three in the end. It was too good there to leave. I could choose solitude or company anytime, according to my wishes, swinging in my hammock and sunbathing by the waves, playing cards, chatting, singing and playing guitar and kazoo with the others in the evenings, swimming with glowing plankton, frisbeeing, playing Nerez and Beatka…
Hanzi took liking in my idea of hitch hiking the sailing boats and we decided to continue together to Sihanoukville where perhaps the only marina in Cambodia was supposed to be. The cost of the ride there was 8 dollars per person, which was quite a lot for such a short distance, but it was to be a bus with wi-fi and we didn’t know about any alternative so OK. Only that there was no bus, but a car, which is something like a bus, the organizer explained. And we realized they want to squeeze 6 of us in it. Out of a principle, we started arguing. Going on the back seat in four people for an hour and half and for 8 dollars is no hitparade. We (I) demanded a discount or another car so we could all go comfortabely. As a result, one girl stayed behind. And when I asked the organizer if he thinks that’s an all right solution, he answered that she is a Khmer so she understands and she will go the next morning. We didn’t feel very well about it but I was thinking that she didn’t have to cooperate with them and we could have gotten some discount each and could have gone all of us. And she was (most) probably not paying the same price as us. So we ended up 4 plus the driver in the car; me, Hanzi, a very meddlesome German girl and a guy that slept for the whole journey. And that is already a different story.
Third Parables – The Stolen Passport
The German girl had booked some expensive hotel which freed us from any uncomfortable situations. So we parted and me, Hanzi and one freshly awaken Frenchman went for a lunch, coffee and internet to an Izraeli restaurant. In the end, we rented a room together and went out to party with Frenchman’s friends from previous travels who he was meeting here. All together we ended up in some beach club at happy hours and I transformed some redundant emotions into a wild dance. Even a small fanclub started to form there.
We spent the next day in a very similar style, plus terrible hangover. We found a bar called Utopia, which is more a complex of a hostel, 4 incredibly cheap restaurants, a bar, pool tables, a ping pong table and a swimming pool with a slag line above it. There is a graffiti “You can check-out any time but you will never leave” on one wall and we were to learn very soon how very true it is.
We went to the beach again in the evening, to continue repairing ourselves, this time classically with a bottle of wine. But before we reached the sand, we met some friends from the previous day and ended up with some other drinks, laughing gas and joints first. And that might explain, that when we got that excellent idea to go swimming at 4 a. m., and were hesitating whether it was a good idea to leave all our things on the beach when the Internet was full of warnings about stealing on Sihanoukville beaches, we still went for it. And that was how I lost my passport, driving licence, debit card and all cash (about 180 dollars) because I thought it to be too risky to leave it in our hotel room.
An ashamed pause.
Lasted one day. One day, when I kept repeating to myself how incredibly stupid I was and what to do now. I contacted Mr. Black and it turned out he just left Sihanoukville that morning. He was willing to turn and come back the next day to help me. I wrote to my brother that I will need him to send me my other card and perhaps also some money via that bloody Western Union. Hanzi lended me a twenty to survive till the next day and one of my beloved girlfriends spent several hours persuading me on Skype that I was not a completely stupid cow and that everything would be all right. Thanks to everyone, all of it helped. A bit.
I also got an idea that I could offer a reward for my passport and tell the kids on the beach (aka the children mafia sniffing toluen, which is Sihanoukville so infamous for). I printed out 3 copies and wrote 50 $ REWARD and UTOPIA GUESTHAUSE (where we moved with Hanzi after the Frenchman had left for Bangkok and Paris – the one night stay cost 1 $) on it. I gave one copy to a tuk-tuk driver who claimed he knew some of the kids and I also hoped the 50 dollars would be attractive for him too. Another got some kids and the third a barman from the bar we were drinking the previous night in. And I told all to spread the word as much as possible.
Another part of the program was a visit at a Police station. On the Internet I found, where the main one was, and set off in red dress, flip-flops and mild rain. Fitted my mood perfectly. After nearly one hour walking, I managed to tell myself what and idiot I was so many times, that I entered the Station in a very miserable state. Wet, too. As a bonus, it turned out it was all in vain as I was supposed to go to another Police station, the one for tourists, which lay, by the way, 200 metres from Utopia. That one was closing in 15 minutes.
“Uh-huh”, I said, “so I won’t make it today,” and was about to leave.
“How comes?” inquired the policeman.
When it turned out that I walked there for 40 (! – holy inocence!) minutes, the policemen were shocked and started explaining to me that I could not walk all that way back. I replied that I could and, already nearly crying from all that day, tried to walk out of the door. One policeman asked me to go with him. We entered his office, he closed the door and explained to me that it was very important that I mad the complaint that day. Then he asked me how much money I had. I said: “9 dollars, and they are borrowed.” So he reached in his pocket, gave me 2 000 riels for the moto taxi and bye bye. I love Cambodian policemen. Or at least this one.
When I got to the Tourist Police station, they told me that the interpreter went already home and that I could come the next day, no big deal. OK then. So I came the next day. At 1.30 p. m., stupid! Siesta, of course, the interpreter was not there. I should come in half an hour. I did. The intepreter was still not there. But the policeman, who was, said: “You complaint lost passport? Sorry, my English very bad. I see your passport. I see. But you must pay.”
I was affraid to believe to what I thought I understood. But when I asked him to bring me to the place when he saw it, he found a key to a drawer in his desk and took out – my passport, my debit card and driving licence. So I hugged the poor guy and ran towards Utopia to get the fifty from Mr. Black, who has arrived in the meantime, and screamed on the whole street that I have got my passport back. Because if Ihadn’t got it back, it would be most probably the end of my Asian trip, asthe Czech embassy doesn’t issue new passports in such cases, only gives you a paper that is valid only for 14 days and strictly only to travel back to the Czech Republic. So bye bye, Indonesia, it would have to be.
When I came back with the 50 $, there were two small boys waiting outside the office – what for, I wonder. They were about 5 and 7 years old. I hope the policeman gave them at least something from the reward, so they bring other passports to other tourists again in the future. I thanked them.
I have irreversibly blocked my debit card the day before and the 180 $ in cash surprisingly didn’t come back either. But I can stay here, continue travelling and see Borobudur and Bali and Komodo dragons and orang-utans and Sulawesi and learn how to dive on Koh tao… As soon as I get the back-up card.
Thanks to attention and care of a certain charming Frenchman, and maybe also due to intensive going through a billion of emotions and events in the past 10 days, and finally perhaps due to good timing of the end of our relationship, meeting with Mr. Black is way easier than I had been expecting, too. So we play pool together, drink beers, and before we part again, we will show Sihanoukville how to enjoy oneself. We tried to visit one island close to the shore with him and Hanzi today, but Utopia …you never leave…, it didn’t work out and we decided to stay here. Hanzi will be flying to Melbourne from Bangkok in a few days and I will go for another stage on my way. But I am not affraid any more. In the 10 days, I wasn’t alone longer than half a day, if I didn’t choose it. There is a lot of nice people around, I can befriend them anytime, which is something I am not known for having trouble with. And I believe I got such a lesson in being careful, that I will not forget till the end of my life.
One more thank you, this time to my Lucky Star – you rock.
