The End

I racked my brain for hours last night trying to come up with a way to verbalize how I feel. But the only thing I could come up with was, “I can’t believe I’m at the airport.”

I am now sitting on an airbus 380, beside my 700 other fellow fliers, watching the hot-pink sun burn through the horizon. I am 8 hours from my destination, and 13 hours from my departure. 

Where did the time go? 

It’s so strange looking back and thinking about all I’ve done in these past five months. I still can’t be grateful enough that I was given this opportunity. 

I think what I am most scared for upon my return home, is the question, “How was Thailand?” Because I honestly don’t know where I would start, or how I would ever stop. 

Looking back it’s easy to say that I will miss the adventure. I will miss hiking to the local waterfall and overlooking the city from the side of the mountain. I will miss hopping into song taos with my USAC companions and sightseeing temples in and around Chiang Mai. I will miss exploring the different parts of Thailand, from the peaceful and culture-rich Chiang Mai, to the chaotic, sleepless Bangkok, to the serene and paradisal southern islands. And I will miss the ability to tour the neighboring countries just a bus ride away. Well... maybe I won’t mind living without the 12+ hours in one seat, stopping at the most unbearable “toilets” I have ever experienced in my life, being herded around like cattle from one vehicle to the next, “bus rides” to which I refer... but it’s all part of the journey. 

I came to Thailand for the rainforests. I came for the waterfalls, the temples, the wildlife, the mountains. I came to explore a foreign land and to see a different side of the world. But what I found was something I wasn’t looking for. 

I thought that seeing all those cool landmarks and exploring all those new places was going to be the most memorable part of my journey. And yes, it was memorable. But the places weren’t what made this experience real. 

What I’m going to miss the most, what truly shaped this experience and made it into what it was, was the people. 

I’m going to miss this culture - a culture that is unique to only this part of the world. I will find other waterfalls and I will go on other hikes, but I will never be surrounded by the same smiling faces as I did in here in Asia.

I’m going to miss the little things that make Thailand, Thailand. 

Like walking into the 711 and seeing a stray dog sleeping next to the canned goods. Or stumbling over little children who are curled up in a blanket watching movies on the floor of their mothers’ clothing shop. Or bargaining with the woman selling knock-off Tiffany’s bracelets at the night market. Her: “Look! Bracelet, good price for you!” Me: “I’m sorry, I don’t wear bracelets.” Her: “How much you pay!?” ...It didn’t always go so well.

I’m going to miss watching the street vendors put out food for the stray dogs. I’m going to miss talking to Fon about how she followed her dream to open her own restaurant. I’m even going to miss the guy at the trendy market who laughed at me when I couldn’t fit into the XL jean shorts... or maybe he was laughing with me.  

The point is, I can go to other parts of the world and I can seek other adventures. But I will never find the same experience I found in Thailand. 

Because it was the people who made it real. It was the culture that defined my lifestyle. 

They say happiness is only real when shared. 

And I will forever have a place in my heart for the happiness I found here in Thailand.

A Brief Synopses

Things I will Miss About Thailand

1. Penny’s - Fon, Penny, Laan, & the stir-fried morning glory
2. Stray dogs on the streets, on campus, in convenient stores, in class, etc.
3. Street food - $1 sushi, waffles, juice!
4. Mango sticky rice
5. Song Taos 
6. Kafe
7. Chilli sauce 
8. My mountainside view
9. Hiking, rafting, waterfalls, rainforests
10. 711 toasties and sticky rice burgers 
11. “Lot day may kha”-ing 
12. Hour long massages for under $10
13. Motorbiking
14. Night markets
15. Wine nights and beer buffets
16. Zoe in Yellow
17. Hill Tribe villages (puppies and babies)
18. Wild monkeys 
19. Chaa yen and Thai iced coffees 

Things I will Not Miss

1. Squatters
2. Smog
3. Getting robbed
4. Replacing cameras
5. Cockroaches 
6. The bottoms of my feet being black every day
7. Rock hard beds
8. The smell of the sewer
9. The fear of clogging toilets
10. Ethernet cords

Things I am Looking Forward to

1. Sammy
2. Rockwood 
3. Grocery shopping, knowing what food is when I buy it, & COOKING
4. Pico wraps from Sundance, sushi from Lucky Buddha, & wings from Candlelight - the 3 BEST places to eat in my home town
5. Bathrooms with toilet paper, toilet seats, & soap =)
6. Granola for breakfast (not that fried pork wasn’t good or anything)
7. My Mom’s smoothies
8. Driving

Be a Tourist in Your Own Country

As my time here winds down, I continue to think more and more about returning home. I’m excited, yes, but I am also skeptical. 

What’s it gonna be like when I recognize all the faces I see around my town? What’s it gonna be like when I know how to get around the area? What’s it gonna be like when I know what the food tastes like before I try it?

The thing that makes travel so exciting is the unfamiliarity. Everything is new, everything is exciting, everything is an opportunity to learn.

Or is that just a perception? 

When I walk to class in the morning, I am excited by the flowers, the trees, the birds. I take out my camera to capture the beauty of the sky during sunset. I spark up a conversation with the person next to me at the restaurant. 

But what I’ve started to realize is that the value I attribute to all that I do here in Asia is a product of my perspective. 

In America, there are flowers. There are trees. There are birds. There is a beautiful sky at sunset, and there is a stranger beside me in the restaurant. 

But at home, I let those things go unnoticed. I diagnose them as “familiar” before I examine their true value. I rarely take that extra moment to appreciate what’s before me because I subconsciously assume it will still be there tomorrow... I will still be there tomorrow. 

What if I lived like I was a tourist in my own country?

What if I viewed my town like I view Chiang Mai - as a city that is my home, but only temporarily. After all, our lives are impermanent, and consequently so are our surroundings and the ability to experience it all at full value.  

I’m apprehensive about going home because I’m afraid I’ll be bored. I’m afraid I will run out of new things to do and new people to meet. 

But what I’ve decided, is that if I live every day like I am a tourist in my own country, I will never run out of new things to do. I will never run out of new people to meet. And I bet I will come to appreciate the world around me much more than I had before. 

The world can be as big or as small as we want depending on how we choose to see it. 

Songkran :)

“So they just throw buckets of water on us?” I don’t get it. 

I pictured myself stepping outside of Uniloft and getting hit with a quick shot or two from some people walking down the street with water guns. Then I pictured myself drying off. 

I really didn’t get it. 

Now that I have experienced Songkran, I have a much better idea for what it is about. The “quick shot or two” of water spritzes that I’d imaged is more like the non-stop bombardment of hose-water, buckets, and water guns, and the “drying off” is more like the continuous bombardment of hose-water, buckets, and water guns. 

From the second you approach Tha Pae Gate and the streets surrounding the canal, which is the main location for Songkran in Chiang Mai, you can expect nothing less than pruned fingertips and a mop of wet hair. 

Now as you’re probably wondering what this so called “Songkran” is exactly, I should probably provide a bit more of an explanation. Songkran is the celebration of the Thai New Year. It is celebrated from the 13th to the 15th of April, and often a few days before and after. But basically, it is one giant water festival. 

To give you a better idea, imagine those foam parties in college or the like. Then image the foam, plus water, plus every single person from young children to senior citizens joining the party. 

To give you an even better idea, have a look at this clip: http://vimeo.com/64151232 (video cred to Ashley Vega).

Behind the scenes of all the liberating, carefree, water-throwing fun is the original reason for this type of celebration. The water is meant as a symbol to wash away all bad fortune and it is intended to cleanse each person it’s thrown upon so that they have a fresh start to the new year. 

But what really makes it amazing is seeing all the faces of the people getting into it. And when I say that it was everyone, I legitimately mean e v e r y o n e. 

I was right about one thing: when I walked out of Uniloft I did get targeted by some water guns. But it was a lot more than just that. 

The family owned convenient shop on Soi Jet turned into a family owned human car wash. 

From the top of the street, I saw two little boys sitting in their bathing suits, hovering over a giant bucket of water, a water gun in each hand. I evaluated the mischievous looks on their faces as I neared my first assault of Songkran 2013. 

But before I even reached their location, the old woman who works the register jumped out from behind a wall and devoured my head, shoulders, and whole attire with an ice-cold shower of overflowing bucket-water. 

After a moment of recuperation from the shock, I wiped the droplets from my eyes and squinted through my saturated lashes, only to see an entire group of them laughing and coming at me with more buckets. Mom, dad, grandpa, little boy, littler boy, a few neighbors I’d never seen before - they all had some sort of splashing device in their hands and the most youthful smiles across their faces. 

And suddenly the brief moment of frustration I’d felt from the initial blast evaporated, and I was soaked again, but this time with a new sense of liberation. I turned to my friends, who were also drenched from head to toe, and I burst into a fit of laugher. I realized that from this point forward, the only thing I could expect was a joyous, relentless, free-for-all. 

The best part about Songkran was that it united all of us - the little kids, the adults, my USAC companions, the tourists who came to join the celebration. Everyone met at a common grounds, a grounds where laughing-it-off was the only acceptable response to all the chaos that flooded the streets. 

What do you do when a random stranger runs up to you and pelts your eyeballs with a full-forced, triple-spouted water machine? You wipe the water away and smile... and then of course get him back. 

The normal daily operations of Chiang Mai had taken an intermission. Not a single street vendor on Suthep was in sight. Even the restaurants were closed down for the weekend. Every person of the city abandoned their habitual lifestyle to join in on fun and games. 

What a cool way to celebrate the New Year, I thought, when the weekend eventually came to an end. As I laid my sopping wet shorts and tank tops off the balcony to dry, I realized that in a way, I actually did feel that I had been cleansed. 

I felt rejuvenated, pleasantly reminded of the care-free and life-loving spirit I had when I was little. 

It’s sad that as we grow up, that spirit gets lost behind so many worries and concerns: I have to finish my paper. I gotta send this email before noon. I’m gonna miss the bus if I don’t hurry! You don’t see a 6-year old with that type of anxiety.

Of course, I’m no longer a 6-year old. I am now a 21-year old with a lot more responsibility. But just because we have more responsibilities doesn’t mean we should forget the life-loving spirit that exists innately within all of us. 

Sometimes, at the end of the day, we should remind ourselves that we all share a common grounds to play on. 

This morning I walked down Soi Jet to get breakfast. On my way I passed the small convenient store. The little boys were eating soup on the plastic table outside, and the woman who runs the register was sweeping out front. She looked up at me, and I looked back, smiling at the memory from the days before. Though I still don’t know her name, I see her differently. Though we still don’t speak the same language, we share a common bond. She returns the smile, and I can tell that we are both silently reliving the same memory as I pass. 

Homesickness

I miss my couch. I miss sinking into its fluffy red cushions, gripping the remote control with one hand and patting my sleeping puppy’s head with the other. My mom is making a smoothie in the kitchen behind me, filling the blender with all her immunity-boosting secret ingredients. The TV has what seems to be an unlimited amount of English channels, and I flip through them mindlessly as I enjoy the last few spoonfuls of my granola and yogurt breakfast. All I have to do today is take Sam for a walk in Rockwood, and I can’t wait to inhale the smog-less summer breeze fresh off the Hudson River. 

I miss the streets of Pleasantville. I miss driving in my car with the windows down, music blasting through the speakers. I see the familiar faces of my friends’ parents walking to the farmers market on Sunday morning. I wave and smile for a brief second, and then the traffic light ignites in the green circle, indicating my turn to pass through the busy intersection. My foot presses into the pedal, and the breeze takes my hair from the sides of my face and wisps it behind my shoulders. 

I miss my routine. I miss waking up in the morning, taking a warm shower and picking out an outfit for work. I choose the one decent-fitting pair of black business pants and retrieve a light pink, ruffled Express shirt from my closet. I pour my coffee into a to-go jug and rummage through the key basket for the pair that fits my 1999 Mitsubishi Montero SUV. Will that car ever break down? I knock on wood as it jolts backwards out of the garage. Fortunately, the car takes me safely to and from my job, and I return home a little after 6 feeling productive and accomplished. 

When I look out my bedroom window, I see the Saw Mill River Parkway dotted with moving cars. The green mountainside has vanished and a concrete river has taken its place. The street vendors have manifested into established buildings, and the stray dogs have been leashed by morning joggers. The placid and colloquial smiles of the locals have gotten lost in muted, hasty conversation with the faces of wristwatches as they scurry towards the arriving Metro North. 

It’s a different life here, for sure. There are things I miss, and there are things I will miss. 

It’s been over three months now, and the inevitable thoughts of the comfort and familiarity of home have crept into my mind. At times, they tease me with brief interludes from my current life here in Chiang Mai. The pile of white rice on my plate looks up and winks at me as it transforms into a bowl of my Mom’s spaghetti and meatballs. I drop my fork and sigh, reviewing the distance of time between now and my flight back to New York. 

But when I turn back to my meal, the stir-fried morning glory beside the rice is stretching its fists into the air. It inhales deeply, then relaxes back onto the plate between some Thai chilies, and a rejuvenating smile spreads across its face. It’s contagious. And suddenly I’m smiling too.

The other night I talked to my sister. I updated her on all the amazing things I’ve been doing here between traveling and classes and meeting people. But I also confessed the distracting battle of homesickness I’ve begun to fight with time. “It’s probably just a mood,” I said. “I’m sure I’ll snap out of it.”

“Yeah that’s true. We’re always living anxious for the future. And then it comes. And we are anxious again about the future.” 

I think there was more logic to Jaime’s response than to my “it’s just a mood” reasoning. And suddenly, I began to think differently. I only have one month left. Where did the time go? Suddenly, I want to hold on to every moment because soon my plate of spaghetti and meatballs will wink at me and warp into the savory stir-fried morning glory from Penny’s Restaurant on Soi Jet. 

But I won’t be walking down Soi Jet to Penny’s restaurant. I will be watching TV on the couch in my living room. 

And right now, I am sitting at my desk in my little apartment in Uniloft. Sophie is in the living room, laughing at some scene from “This Means War” playing on the TV. My Angkor Wat painting is mounted on the wall above me, and to its right is the dried out rose I got one night at Zoe in Yellow. The wrapper of my sticky-rice burger from 711 is making my room smell like onions. I should probably throw that away.

I hear and think a lot about what it means to "be present." But truly living that way is harder than it seems. I'm only being present when my thoughts align with where I am and what I am doing this moment. And I know that when this moment passes, and the future comes, I will miss this point in my life like crazy. I'll start to look back, and once again disconnect from the present.

The point is that this is where I am now. And that’s all we have. Now. I can waste my thoughts on the past or the future, but I exist in neither. 

I am only living in the now, so now is the time to be alive. And I guess I needed to lose a few battles of homesickness for it to kick my butt with that very little but very important reminder.

Bangkok

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aKacS3nYXdE

We decided to prompt our weekend in Bangkok with a movie night featuring some of our favorite actors in some of our favorite places. No, Thailand is not pronounced “Th - island.” No, Chiang Mai is not 20 minutes outside of Bangkok. No, Buddhist temples do not look like P.F. Chang’s. But yes, Bangkok is as crazy as it looks. 

On Thursday night we hopped on a bus to Bangkok, but for the first time, we planned to stay more than two hours. We arrived the next morning (Chiang Mai is 10 hours outside of Bangkok) and took a taxi to Khaosan Road. 

Khaosan Road is commonly known as the backpacker’s road in Bangkok. It is a hodgepodge of people from all over the world, bargain-hunting in countless street shops, feasting on fried spring rolls and pad thai, and shuffling in and out of the plethora of hotels, restaurants, and travel agencies that sandwich the road.

Khaosan Road, Bangkok

We decided to spend our weekend in the D&D Inn, “The Best on Khaosan Road.” The fifteen dollars a night was a splurge from our usual travel budgets, but we decided to make an exception for this weekend. The spacious room, couch and plasma TV, on top of the rooftop bar, pool and view of Bangkok were definitely worth the extra money. What’s it gonna be like when $15 buys me a cheeseburger in New York? 

The first day we spent exploring the city. We went to the MBK Shopping Center, one of the biggest malls in Thailand. Then we went to see the Royal Palace, Wat Pho and the Reclining Buddha, which were great for pictures but I’m starting to wonder when people will get sick of me posing in front of temples. In my defense, it’s not every day in America that you drive by a bright yellow, pure white, or intricately designed Buddhist sanctuary filled with monks.

Reclining Buddha 

Since Alex and Sage had suffered a sleep-less night being pelted by water droplets from the bus’s broken air conditioner the night before, we decided that 7 o’clock was the perfect time for a much needed nap. Once we were re-charged and ready to go, we headed onto Khaosan Road for our first night out in Bangkok. 

Fortunately, no one woke up in an elevator. No one got any face tattoos, and no one shaved their head. I may have misspoke earlier; Bangkok is not as crazy as it looks. But it sure as hell is a cool place to be. 

The next day, we treated ourselves to a sleep-in morning, late brunch, and day of rooftop sunbathing. In the late afternoon, we headed back onto the street for some shopping. I have been in Thailand for over three months now, and I have faced numerous shopping temptations at the malls and night markets in Chiang Mai. But I have been strong! I have saved my money for important things like food, housing and travel. 

Until I met Khaosan Road. 

It was like I was a frantic puppy let off the leash in a field of cats. I was making it rain in every store I stepped foot in. Sundress? - sure! Four tank tops - why not? Necklace, earrings, sandals, tee shirt - yep, just throw it in the bag.

And 3 hours later, I had successfully emptied my wallet and overflowed my backpack with a new wardrobe of clothing and accessories for home. It had to happen eventually. And the shopping in Bangkok is just amazing. No buyer’s remorse whatsoever. 

My shopping-high was a nice way to start off our second evening. We dressed in some of our nicest clothes and headed off to Sky Bar, the world’s highest open air bar that overlooks the skyline of Bangkok City. This was probably my favorite part of the weekend. The view was seriously breathtaking - a serene reminder of the big picture mankind has created and the tiny yet powerful contribution we have all made to it. 

Looking out over the tops of all the tall buildings that reached up into the sky, I experienced a brief flashback of New York City. The twinkling lights. The constant energy. The city that never sleeps. While I do consider myself more of a nature person, I don’t think I could ever get sick of the invigorating feeling that lives only in the streets of metropolitan areas. 

On the last day, we decided we should ride the Skytrain, but we really didn't have anywhere in particular to go. No, we just wanted to ride it. So when I asked the Thai Metro Operator which direction provided a more “scenic route,” he blinked at me through perplexed eyes, wondering why a tourist would ride a train with no destination in mind. 

But it worked out in our favor. We ended up at one of the piers on the river. So next thing you know, we’re in the back of a long-tail boat, drifting down the Chao Phraya River and touring Bangkok from the water. It was a great way to end our trip. I snapped a few pictures of everything from skyscrapers to temples to slums, and soaked in the last little bit of cultural diversity that Bangkok has to offer. 

Chao Phraya River, Bangkok

Our weekend in Bangkok was a success, and we made it back to Chiang Mai without losing any teeth, fingers, or members of our group. It was a great little weekend vacation and I'm glad I finally checked it off my bucket list. 

Cambodia

How to sum up my trip to Cambodia... Hmm... three expressions come to mind:

“Tuk-tuk! Tuk-tuk! Tuk-tuk!”

“My friend, how much you pay?”

“Special price, special price for you my friend. It’s good for you!”

I can still hear the voices of tuk-tuk drivers chasing us off the buses, outside our hotels, down the streets, outside of Angkor Wat, on our way to the beach... I think we could have tuk-tuked across the entire country if we agreed to all the special prices.

It was interesting to observe the differences between Thailand and Cambodia, though they are similar in many ways. Cambodia seemed a lot less developed and a lot more dependent on the tourist industry, but overall the people were just as friendly and excited, if not even more so, to share their culture and history. 

^ tuk-tuk ^

My trip to Cambodia picked up only a few hours after Koh Phangan left off. I arrived back in Chiang Mai Sunday morning just in time to take three midterms the next day, then returned to Arcade Bus Station with my re-packed backpack by Monday night. I wonder if the woman at the “Bangkok” window knows my name by now... 

Once back in the capital, we bused across the border and into Siem Reap where we rewarded our 24 hours of pins-and-needled feet, over-cramped butts, and mind-numbing boredom with a few $0.50 beers and lunch at Temple Restaurant. For my fellow travelers reading this, “We’re in college!” - speaker anonymous. 

The next day we checked one of the Seven Wonders of the World off our bucket lists as we explored the ancient Hindu ruins of Angkor Wat. The temples were like none other that I’ve seen, with indomitable roots of fig trees ripping through the stone structures and hopeless attempts of reconstruction to hold the architecture together. I wonder what the temples will look like 10, 20, 30 years from now.

Angkor Wat

Our next stop after Siem Reap was Sihanoukville, a small province on the coast of Cambodia. We stayed in a little bungalow called “Wish You Were Here,” and I am almost certain that this is the most laid-back place on the face of the earth. Swinging wicker chairs, comfy egg-seats, a chalkboard-painted wall scribbled with menu items, and groups of backpackers sharing untroubled conversation over games of cards. Even the owner went about his day as if there wasn’t a worry in the world. “I wish you didn’t have to pay,” he said, “then you could just get your food, drinks and keys yourselves... And I wouldn’t have to do a thing.” We laughed at the fact that he wasn’t joking. 

Runner-up for most laid-back place in the world was Crusoe Island. Crusoe is a tiny, desolate island off the coast of Sihanoukville. It is inhabited only by a handful of Khmer families and one small “resort” that offers accommodation in tents and hammocks. Electricity is available between 6pm and 10pm (so I don’t recommend venturing to the squatter located in the middle of the woods at 9:55 like I did), and there is one hut for meals and drinks at designated hours. The only thing that bumped Crusoe down the list was our fear of rats, scorpions, and cockroaches crawling on our faces during the night - but besides that it was very relaxing.

Our weekend on the island consisted solely of swinging in hammocks, wading in the bathtub that is the Gulf of Thailand, and chatting around campfires at night. Because there was essentially nothing at all to do, I was forced to train my New-York-mind to slow to the pace of the swaying palm trees. It was surprisingly difficult, as I’m used to having a million thoughts in my head. But on Crusoe Island, it was just the ocean, the hammock, and my book - nothing else. 

Emily put it well when she said that reading is like a vacation for your mind. I’ve been traveling so much lately that my thoughts constantly seem to be chasing after my footsteps, trying to keep up with all that I’m taking in. But it was a nice change of pace, having no reference of time besides the pendulum of myself and my hammock beneath a palm tree. With all else still, my thoughts resolved, and I allowed my mind to wander into the land of make-believe between the pages of my book. 

The nights were a little different from the days, however. The first night we spent sleeping in a tent on the beach, and as the beach is only a few feet from a forest of rats and scorpions, it was a bit unsettling to wonder what creature was rustling the leaves just outside of our cloth-lining wall. So the second night we opted for a place less accessible to forest floor critters. We each pitched a hammock and zipped ourselves into bug-nets. Of course, our bug-nets were bombarded by cicadas all night, which was again, a bit unsettling. But we survived. And after three long, power-less, shower-less days, we were ready to return to civilization. 

Crusoe Island

Wish You Were Here welcomed us back to Sihanoukville with cold showers and home-made veggie-burgers. Once our cameras and phones regained their battery life, we headed out for the next destination. 

On our long bus ride to Cambodia’s capital city, Sage and I sat between a group of local Khmers who were on their way to a soccer tournament. One of them spoke pretty fluent English, so we took the opportunity to ask him questions about Cambodia. He was so happy that we were open to talk to him, to tell him about our country and ask him about his. I learned a lot from his disclosure, but one thing he said stuck with me the most: “Thank you for telling me about America. I like to learn from people. I feel like everywhere is my school, and everyone is my teacher.” 

“Everywhere is my school. Everyone is my teacher.” How did he put such a truthful, meaningful statement into such simple words? 

Phnom Penh, Capital of Cambodia

When we finally arrived in Phnom Penh, we hurried off our bus, jumped into a tuk-tuk!tuk-tuk!tuk-tuk! and decided on a cheap hostel in the city. On our list for Phnom Penh were the Killing Fields and Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum, which brought mixed feelings to all of us. Nobody knew what to expect. We’d heard from friends who had already traveled to Cambodia that the stories of the recent Cambodian genocide were emotionally challenging, but we wanted to learn the history for ourselves. 

Just 30 years ago, nearly 2,000,000 people were mass murdered under the Khmer Rouge takeover in Cambodia. Pol Pot, the Khmer Rouge party leader, sought to nationalize the peasant farming society of Cambodia in accordance with the Chinese Communist agricultural model. Pol Pot and his followers imprisoned, tortured and killed all potential opposition, which included educated people, professionals, and monks, as well as young children who could not bear the punishing labor forced upon them in the fields. Within just 3 years of unfathomable executions, the Cambodian Genocide resulted in the gradual devastation of over 25% of the country’s population. 

At the Genocide Museum, a Cambodian woman was selling bracelets outside of Security Prison 21, an old high school that was turned into a jailhouse during the Khmer Rouge regime. This woman was a survivor, separated from her mother, father, sisters and brothers during the genocide. She remains outside of SP21, in the presence of the bloodshed memories from her past, because she hopes that one day her family members will find their way back to her. 

The stories of survivors made it all feel more real to me, though it was still so difficult to wrap my mind around. But that’s how it is with all major tragedies. You’re left wondering how they happened, why they happened. Sometimes there just isn’t an answer. Sometimes the only thing we can do is raise awareness for the future, and that is the intention of the Cambodian’s who share their tragic history in Phnom Penh. 

The Killing Fields, Phnom Penh

By that point, it was evident that our trip Cambodia had taken us all on an emotional roller-coaster. We spent a few more nights relaxing and exploring the city, and soon it was time for Sophie, Alex and Emily to catch their flights back to Thailand and Sage and Anna to Malaysia. 

So I spent my last night in Phnom Penh with a diverse group of backpackers I’d met along the way, sharing some drinks, playing pool, and apply the quote I’d learned from Khmer Bus Rider. Then I set out for the Thai border, and took a quick stop on Khaosan Road in Bangkok to do a little shopping. Here, is where I asked myself how I have been in Thailand for over three months, and have yet to spend more than a couple of hours in one of the world’s largest cities, not to mention film-set of America’s ever-so-entertaining The Hangover Part 2. So another item was added to the bucket-list, and I boarded my bus back to Chiang Mai excited to plan the next trip with my friends to BANGKOK.