Four Men And A Little Lady

Having made my new friend and with it being my last night I splurged and ended up at the Billabong Resort. A single room for $20. I'll survive.

Aaron Spelling most certainly consulted on the building and branding of the Billabong because I half expect Amanda Woodward to push me into the blue tiled pool located in the courtyard flanked by lounge chairs and neatly folded towels. 

My clean and comfortable room, located on the second floor and has shampoo in the bathroom and a mini fridge. It's basically the Ritz.

After unloading my bag I meet back up with Carla and an Austrian friend of hers for dinner. Sister's Restaurant is just down the road and for a couple of bucks will serve you something with indistinguishable seafood and indeterminate flavor. Needless to say - it was a bad call. My dinner companions didn't seem up for the night market so we all, instead, take the short walk back to the hostel and have banana splits and break up talk in the courtyard. 

My sleep was restful and rise early. Giving me plenty of time to utilize the reliable wifi to catch up on on Netflix. A super cultural experience.

I was the black and white Mark Duplass film 'Blue Jay' and marvel and his ability to capture the tragic beauty so often found in life. 

I make it to the pool by 8am with absolutely no shame as I am trying to get my last drops of vitamin D in before heading back to the Northern tundra of New York city and run into the homies from the night before as they gather to head to the killing fields. For a moment I consider putting on appropriate clothing and joining them. 

Part of what I've learned from traveling is that I must accept I cannot see everything. Much like in life you have to choose door A or B and I realize getting my niece a doll means more to me than a place of pass genocide.

I pass affectionate skinny Asian girls with exposed tracks and the Eastern European man who 'love' them, or who have at least paid for said affection for the weekend as I meander my way to the market where I get something for everyone on my life with riels to spare.

When I return to the hostel with my newly purchased goodies I reunite with the cast of Cambodia Place and we share from the day - what see, eat, avoid.

I pack my bags and relax at the hostel, and head out to the night market with Karla and British baker Matt who will be leaving in the morning to surprise his Mum for Christmas.

We, once again, don't make it to the market but we do land at an open air restaurant and I order WAY too much in hopes of sharing and instead buy my companions and beer and consume all solid calories alone. The dinner is lengthy and chatty and although we were denied service solely based on our being Caucasian the food was aplenty and the bill was low. 

With some reticence make it back to Billabong and I gather my things before hoping into yet another tuk tuk (I love them so much!) and head to the airport. 

The joy of starting your period, just as you start your two day journey home is one I can't quite put into words. The joys of being a woman are boundless. As are the joys of travel.

I will not pretend to be filled with joy or hope, at least not at the moment. But with country 36 checked off of my list, with the help of four men and a little lady, I am filled with experiences. And for that, I can be thankful. 

I love you, Cambodia.