Saturday

I am going to travel backward in time to try to capture the things I've missed writing about here. This will be impossible...first, because one cannot travel through time any direction but forward and second because it would be impossible to tell you about this place in a way that does it justice, even if I wasn't three days behind. But try I will, because I said I would.

I left JFK on a Thursday night and landed in Bangkok on Saturday. You do the math...even if I hadn't crossed the international dateline, that would still be a long time up in the air. The plan was to meet Tom, a friend of my Aunt's, in at the airport, leave with him, grab some lunch and then return for my 6 pm flight. Tom's flight got in later than we realized and I didn't go anywhere. But I did sit in the BKK airport for 8 hours in a crazy jet-lagged state and enjoyed some of the craziest people-watching I could have imagined. I made the following notes in my journal:

• I love asian babies
• Thai women have a way of wearing high heels like they're nothing. Slippers.
• I saw a fat white guy wearing a silver drag-queen wig, pushing an empty baby carriage
  
• Tom didn't take me anywhere
• Fanny-packs are alive and well. Rest easy.

I was also excited because Emirates was a kick-ass airline. Oh yes. Three hot meals with bread, butter, side dishes, dessert, a cloth napkin and actual metal silverware? Yes, please! It almost didn't matter that we ate them at midnight, 4 am and 6 am...

Also, when I was sitting, talking to Tom (not going anywhere,) he told me, "Oh, Phnom Penh, you're going to the Wild Wild West." To which I sagely nodded, as if I knew. But now I know. See the next few posts for more on this subject.

After 8+ hours at BKK, I boarded my flight for Phnom Penh. I was, by this hour, so tired I was experiencing that panicky cross-eyed sensation I thought was reserved only for sitting in class after all-nighters during college. I took my seat on the plane and didn't have another concsious thought until the wheels touched down on Cambodian soil.

After I got my visa (for $20 USD, the perferred currency here,) I went through customs hoping to see someone who looked Bonnie-esque. I saw no one and continued walking out of the airport where I saw a few more people standing. There, in all her "welcome to PNH, I'll be your guide" glory, was Bonnie and one of her boys, Petra, with a sign reading SARAH. I could've cried.

We rode home through darkened streets. Through the car window I saw trash, dust, dirt roads and people on motorcycles ("motos") and bicycles absolutely everywhere. All I could think of was tomorrow, when I'd get to see it by daylight.

Oh, and laying down.