And I’m pretty sure his name was Tequila because Prancer, Vixen and Spiced Egg Nog were nowhere in sight. There is no doubt, I had a saucy Christmas Eve in Siem Reap. However, It wasn’t until the next morning while attempting to stand from the ground I slept on that I realized, vacation is over. Don’t worry, I’m not homeless. But I am sleeping in my hammock (which I clearly fell out of during the previous night) in a shed outside of the hostel I’ve been working at for about a week now (for free, I might add). That’s right, I found a job and it wasn’t as hard as one might think. 

I signed up on WWOOF, which is essentially a work away type website that links volunteers with farmers around the world in exchange for food and accommodation. Alas, there were only six farms listed in the whole of Cambodia, so I emailed the one I saw in Siem Reap. The owner, Mark from England, emailed me back promptly to inform me that the volunteer positions at his farm were filled, but I should swing by his hostel where he has some work/volunteer opportunities. After a bit of Siem Reap sightseeing, I made my way to Downtown Siem Reap Hostel, to meet the owner and his local wife, Rina, in person. Mark went on to tell me that his farm spots weren’t full, but he didn’t feel comfortable sending a solo female volunteer to the farm since he is only out there 3-4 days out of the week and spends the rest of the time in town at his hostel. However, once he heard I have six months dedicated to living in Siem Reap, he immediately offered me a position at his hostel’s reception desk. The pay is minimal for the first month (appx. $2.50/hr, 60 hours/wk), but the more time you invest in him, the more he’ll invest in you. I’ll get paid more by the second month and if I stay for three months, they’ll cover my visa costs. 

I work with mostly local Cambodians, but there are three other Westerners that work there as well. The bartender, Lisa from Holland, is a joyful dream. I truly don't think I have met a happier Hollander. She is the living, breathing definition of the word cheerful, even after she breaks two toes! There is also two jovial kiwis (aka. New Zealanders), Matt & Sam, who have been traveling Southeast Asia for over seven months, sporadically working at various hostels for the fun and the financial break. The boys will be gone in less than a month on their way to India, but Lisa and I will spend at least three months together, which is a comforting fact. The local I work with will be a whole separate post because it is one of my favorite aspects of the job. 

On top of the job, Mark has already managed to find a me an English teaching job for two days a week out near his farm in rural Cambodia, which will start in January. They are working on finding me a place to sleep and a scooter to make the hour drive out to Kulan Mountain, which is where the school is located. They made sure I knew that this is extreme countryside and very poor Cambodia (eg. no electricity, pump your own water and the students, if they show up at all, may not even own their own shoes). All I could tell them was that this is the exact experience I was hoping for. Otherwise, I move into my own place in downtown Siem Reap on January 1st where I'll be paying a whopping $70/month for a room, which includes a bike, laundry, pool, kitchen and wi-fi. Local status, here I come.

CAMBODIA
Quite literally, I placed my feet into a tank, dozens of minnow-like fish scurried round to suckle away my dry bits, and I walked away feeling refreshed, healthy and scale free. What a tickly treat!  

And, highly necessary after nine hours of nonstop land turbulence from Phnom Penh. My bus finally bounced into Siem Reap at roughly 10pm. After 15 minutes of playing hard-to-get, I finally gave in to the adorable, yet pestering tuk-tuk driver that was bound and determined to take me to my hostel (and probably to the moon and back if I asked him to). I was soon to discover just how aggressive the Siem Reap tuk-tuk drivers could be when I walked home a few nights later and (accidentally) slugged one in the face by means of fisted shield protection. We laughed…awkwardly. 

As we bobbled down the road, I kept hearing “Xin Cháo” cat calls in my direction (which is rare in these Southeast Asian countries), but could not figure out why local Cambodians kept shouting “Hello” in Vietnamese…Ah! I soon realized I was still fully strapped into my Vietnamese conical hat (picture a lamp shade made with dried coconut water leaves). No wonder the bizarre shouting. I quickly unlaced the silk scarf from around my chin, removed the cone basket and suddenly heard cheers of joy. Got it. They don’t approve of Vietnam. Guess I won’t be wearing that to my next interview. 

After weaving through the countless night markets and buzzing party streets, Lang eventually dropped me off at the brand new Luxury Concept Hostel ($6/night) equipped with a dapper rooftop bar, exquisite shower heads and a spacious floor plan (it’s the little things that count). I could not have been more pleased as I unpacked Sebastian and made myself at home. I met up with some old backpacking friends, Jake, Rich & Bobby, the next morning to do some casual sightseeing (mostly competing to see which one of us can bargain the best…Jake wins), followed by a Cambodian circus performance (see previous post), then the consumption of our first fried tarantulas (which led to a domino effect of food poisoning for all) and finally off to bed for a sunrise wake to the ever-so-magical temples of Angkor Wat. 

Note to all: A one day visit to Angkor Wat is not suggested. Give yourself at least two days in this tantalizing temple land full of impressive history and stucco, sandstone delight. 

After bidding the boys goodbye, I asked the bartender if he knew where I could take an entry level Khmer class. He instantly calls a friend who knows a friend, she immediately shows up at the bar and we arrange my first Khmer lesson. Her name is Bee and she hails from England. Bee has been living in Siem Reap for nearly six years working at www.conCERTcambodia.org, a NGO that helps turn people’s good volunteer intentions into the best possible help for the most vulnerable people in Cambodia. She also teaches English as a second job. She is also friends with a swarm of other beautiful expats, some I’ve met, that are doing all kinds of cool jobs in the area. To say I struck gold with this introduction would be an understatement. Due to the contagious energy, powerful history and job seeking potential of this city, I think I may have just found a potential home. So now, it’s time to start carving out a potential six-month career path in this wonderful little city. With Bee and friends at my side, let the job hunting begin. 

Wait one minute! It can't be that easy. First, I must spend 24-hours with some crazy wave of food poison where I literally dispose of all my insides from every possible waterspout. Check, that happened. Luckily, I was blessed with some very compassionate dorm mates who delivered fresh papaya and electrolyte powder to my bedside until I was mobile again. Post recovery, I treated myself to a traditional Khmer massage, which felt more like Cirque du Soleil tryouts. Needless to say, I am still sore as a motherfucker, but happy as a girl who just got her feet suckled...again! 

CAMBODIA
My first week in Cambodia has been like a figurative 10-blade to the heart. I began my usual sightseeing with a visit to the Choeung Ek Killing Fields Memorial—one of the more than 300 found throughout the country where Cambodians were delivered by truck in the middle of the night, blindfolded, brutally beaten to death, then thrown into pits to rot amongst a pile of other bodies. I followed that up with the Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum, which was formally a prison for those that were eventually taken to the killing fields. Shortly after that, I watched The Killing Fields, a documentary that depicts the story of this period through the eyes of an American journalist. By the end of this day, I was left gutted with tears of compassion while also feeling incredibly bothered by my oblivion, shocked by the history, devastated by the tragedy and moved by the resilience of the Cambodian people. 

VIETNAM
I decided to skip northern Vietnam this time and set route to Phnom Penh via slow boat on the Mekong Delta (that blog will be posted soon). However, just before the final leg of the three-day trek I read about Phú Quốc, a nearby island and actually the largest in Vietnam. It is well-known for its beautiful, sandy beaches, fresh seafood, fish sauce (made from anchovies), unique black pepper and most recently, pearls. So before I could say groper, I found myself embarking into the Gulf of Thailand on yet another new, spontaneous adventure (3hr bus/2hr boat for $18).

Whilst on the journey I met a family from Poland and we chatted the entire way. They asked if I was traveling alone and gave forth high praise for the guts, but I just thought, you’re traveling with two young children through Southeast Asia…that’s respect. I also introduced them to my newfound travel obsession, the National Geographic Travel Guide (http://travel.nationalgeographic.com/travel/city-guides/). Due to its history, culture, religion and etiquette coverage, as well as the details of a true off-the-grid experiences, its like the North Star in the galaxy to all other guide books. 

Finally the boat docks and all I can think is, MASSAGE ON THE BEACH. I’ve yet to get back rub here in the land of $5/hr massages but after five weeks, I finally feel like I’ve earned it. Alas, like every country in Southeast Asia, as soon as you depart the boat/bus/train/taxi/tuktuk/minivan, there are always a dozen or more local motorbike men that swarm the exiting passengers like mosquitos hoping you’ll choose them to take you to your next destination. Little do they know, I like the quiet guy in the back who calmly waits for me to inhale/exhale, grab my bag and take a sip of water (or beer) before making my next move. He’s hard to notice, but he’s always there, and I always choose him.

So Yó, my new motorbike friend, and I set off north for the Mushroom Guesthouse ($6/night) in Duonng Dong, the main hustle and bustle hub for tourists right in the center of the island. During the drive, I noticed the freshly paved roads, fancy new airport and a wide variety of restaurants and bars with style and flair, but surprisingly this island is not as touristy or popular as I thought it would be. It’s fast growing, but still developing in a lot of ways.Yó very kindly offered to rent me his family’s motorbike for “cheap cheap” and I had a tinge of excitement at the notion, but mostly a flames of fear. 

Why, you ask? Let me tell you something about Southeast Asian motorbikes: They are literally everywhere—we’re talking for every one person in Vietnam, there are three scooters…thats 27,000,000 choppers! Locals pile them full, three or four at a time and/or carry objects that should never be logically transported by a moped (e.g.: TV screens, mattresses, window frames, etc). With thousands of these little revving machines on the road at the same time piling up like mobile rubbish on city street corners, you’d think there must be injuries and accidents abound. But no. The only people I’ve seen with a motorbike injury are tourists, hobbling around Asia like hospital patients—bandaged from elbow to wrist, thigh to angle, head to toe. Forget malaria pills! We need motorlaria prevention! This observation is the main reason I’ve been hesitant to rent a scooter. We’ve neither had the nature nor the nurture to handle this kind of motorbike exposure in such strong doses. 

However, I found peace in the tranquility of this island almost instantaneously and concluded that this would be a perfect place to learn how to roll around on motorbike. After all, the literal translation of Phú Quốc means "prosperous country"—how could I not prosper at whatever it is I set my mind to? 

So, I turned to Yó and said with attitude, “Yó, teach me how to scooty.” 

With warranted apprehension, he rambled out a few incomprehensible driving tips, handed over the keys and set me free. Seconds later, I ran into a building. 


Try, try again they say. After two days, I managed to circumnavigate the island (50km/31mi) in bits and pieces, however I did nearly run over a human and maul over an entire vegetable display, as well as passionately crashing face first into two different, incredibly overbearing mud ponds. Let's be real, who has ever prospered without a little failure along the way? I think it’s safe to say I am ready for more scooty in my life, but would never suggest anyone to be my passenger just yet.

As for Phú Quốc, it’s been a leisurely, lively break from the rest of my go-go destinations. I made a new lifelong friend, played limbo with locals, ate my first Discus (fish) and sipped down my first cup of snake/scorpion/seahorse vodka (good for your health, says Mama & Papa). 

Next stop: Phnom Pen. For real this time.