Cambodia: Koh Rong

I wake up to the sun shining through our hostel window. Wait, why is no alarm ringing?! What time is it?! No!!!! My phone is dead. It is most definitely later than 8:30am, when we were due to catch the ferry over to Koh Rong. Sigrid was going to meet us at the pier and everything, oh my god, I am a terrible friend.

Koh Rong

I wake up to the sun shining through our hostel window. Wait, why is no alarm ringing?! What time is it?! No!!!! My phone is dead. It is most definitely later than 8:30am, when we were due to catch the ferry over to Koh Rong. Sigrid was going to meet us at the pier and everything, oh my god, I am a terrible friend.
In my defence, the entire hostel room is without a single wall plug. In the hostel’s defence… It’s $1 to sleep there. Rats.
I wake Tamara, tell her we’ve missed the boat, and we scramble to get our stuff together before heading downstairs where there are a plethora of plugs to be used. I see that it’s 9:30am according to the clock above the bar. I order some breakfast while I wait for my phone to charge, feeling so guilty all the while. I’m used to being a bit late, but it’s rare that I miss something entirely.
The first thing I do when it finally turns back on, is message Sigrid. She’s surprisingly chill about us missing the boat, and says she’ll come back to the pier for the next boat at noon. I hope it isn’t too far from where she’s staying. She’s found a room at a guest house for all three of us to share when we do finally arrive. I’ve heard accommodation can get pretty expensive on Koh Rong, but apparently this place is only going to cost $4 each a night. Sweet!

We get our stuff together for 11am and make it down to the pier…on time. We pile onto a relatively large boat with a bunch of other backpackers, and take the smooth ride across to Koh Rong. When we arrive, we are directed to CoCo’s bar where we have to listen to a small lecture they call a “safety meeting”. It mostly consists of important information like; don’t try to ride the wild water buffalo, be aware that the power goes out every night between 3 and 9am, don’t go hiking alone in the dark, watch out for snakes, expect to get infected bug bites, and watch out for theft. Apparently, because Koh Rong is still so newly available to tourists and mostly consists of simple wooden guesthouses, they’re easily broken into and many things mysteriously go missing. When our lecturer starts advising us on which restaurants to eat at, we silently slip out and go to meet Sigrid. Ain’t nobody got time for that when there’s a beautiful island to be explored!
Luckily, the pier is about 10 feet away from our guesthouse, so even though us being so late wasn’t cool, Sisi didn’t have to walk too far or waste money on a tuk tuk or anything to come meet us. Koh Rong is even smaller than I imagined. There isn’t a road in sight; just a beach lined with modest guesthouses and bars. Nothing fancy, just bare minimum, bamboo, closest we’ve come to untouched, tropical beauty. Crystal clear tael water lies just steps from the doors of each building, making any lodging along the beach an ideal beach front property. You can’t lose. Sisi shows us to our $12 guesthouse. It’s just one queen and one single bed with a small table and two bug nets protected by four flimsy wooden walls. That’s all we need anyway. It’s perfect. We drop our stuff, leaving everything behind except for our towels, and head down to the beach. We walk 10 minutes down the shore just so we’re not so close to the “central” area, next to Coco’s bar and the pier.
We lay in the sun and take in our surroundings. It truly is a paradise; the most beautiful island I’ve ever been to. A few long tail boats are anchored just off the beach, and a couple even smaller islands are visible on the horizon.

A few hours later, Devin arrives. He’s earlier than the last boat is due to arrive from Sihanoukville, but definitely too late to have come in on the morning boat. He tells us he tried to save a few bucks by opting for the $9 slow boat, instead of paying $15 for the regular ferry which took us an hour. He was told the slow boat would take 2 hours. 6 hours later, after picking up and dropping off fruit at other neighbouring islands on a boat filled to the brim with people, he arrived in Koh Rong. He says it wasn’t worth saving $6.

We have a lazy day, playing frisbee in the crystal clear ocean water and laying in the sand. The sand flies are pretty relentless, but a few bites on my legs here and there is a minor sacrifice to make for this island paradise.

When dusk rolls around we head down to the other end of the beach past our guesthouse. Before we even arrived in Koh Rong people were raving about Sigi’s; a food stall owned by a Thai chef who once lived in Manhattan, but left that busy world behind to live a humble life on Koh Rong, selling delicious Thai dishes for $2 to hungry visitors. I order something called “drunken noodles” which I’d never seen before while visiting Thailand. It’s mildly spicy and entirely scrumptious. Definitely worth $2. We get there early enough that we can sit down and chat with Sigi a bit while he cooks. He’s only about 50, but exudes wisdom and inner peace. He lives in a simple tent on the beach just behind his food stand, and I’ve never met someone so happy. I foresee more meals here in my future.

We all sit outside Coco’s bar with some new found friends from all over. Chile, Denmark, Germany, the USA, and some fellow Canadians. We order round after round of the ever-cheap 2000 riel (50 cent) Klang beer and sit chatting in papasan chairs along the beach. I’m not sure exactly how this comes about, but Devin and the other Canadian guy, who’s name happens to be Kevin, manage to convince the German guy, Levin (I’m not making this up) that they are brothers. Devin’s from Calgary and Kevin is from Halifax, literally opposite ends of the country, but Levin doesn’t need to know that. At some point the joke escalates and they manage to slip in that their “fathers” name is Evan. It takes everything I’ve got to keep myself from bursting into a fit of laughter, but I don’t want to ruin the joke.

When the power goes out, and there’s nothing to light the sky but the bright white face of the moon, we go on an adventure. Phosphorous plankton surround the island, and someone has heard that they are best seen on Four Kilometre Beach; a 15 minute walk through the forest from where we sit now. I swam with phosphorous plankton in Thailand for the first time, and still value that night as one of my fondest travel memories. Regular swimming has never been the same since. I can’t wait to go and have my body movements lit up by the tiny little glowing blue plankton.

I grab my phone as a light for pathway to the beach before we leave. We can’t exactly be walking through the forest in the pitch black, with the natural moonlight blocked by the tree canopy, or we’ll never find the place. There’s a faint pathway to follow that has no doubt been created by the footsteps of other plankton chasers of the past.

At the end of the trail, we arrive at a short rocky beach. This isn’t what I had in mind, but it must be the place. We strip down and wade into the calm, dark night’s water. I can’t understand the hype about this beach; it’s million little rocks digging into the soles of my feet as I try to walk deep enough to swim. The tiny blue plankton glow beneath the surface, illuminating nothing but my legs as I struggle to find a way to swim. That’s when I hear Tamara, who has made it slightly further than I, shout back to me that her foot is burning. She quickly makes it back to shore, and I pull out my phone to inspect her foot with some light. She has at least three or four black sea urchin needles lodged in the bottom of her foot like splinters. We panic a little bit. Aren’t these things poisonous? We’re at least 15 minutes from the main beach, and I’m sure that the one single doctor on the island is asleep.
Shortly after we start looking at the splinters under the light of my iPhone, Tamara’s burning sensation goes down. Devin comes back to the beach with similar needles on his knees, but doesn’t seem too concerned, so we just carry on. No one seems like they’re dying.

We head back to the main beach anyway, in search of a more comfortable and less rocky swimming area where no one has to worry about being poisoned with sharp black urchin needles.
I put my phone in Devin’s bag and dive off the dock into the sparkly plankton-full water. Doing my best to soak up my incredible surroundings to be sure this moment never leaves my memory. Cambodia, and Koh Rong in particular, is one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever been. I love it here. Going home in three weeks is going to feel painful.

When the beer haze and our infatuation with the plankton start to fade, we call it a night and climb back up to the dock. Devin reaches his bag first, and blankly states that it’s been ransacked. I laugh, assuming he’s making some weird joke, but then I see some of his things scattered around the ground.

Oh. No.
My phone was in there. Please dear god tell me it wasn’t taken!! I NEED that! I look around, panicked, and looking for any possible culprit, but there’s nothing but an empty beach and darkness around me. Devin loses an iPod full of music and a camera with 11 months of travel photos, I lose my precious iPhone, and our two Chilean friends both have their wallets stolen. I feel like an idiot for even bringing the phone out with me tonight, but we needed a flashlight! There’s no electricity at this hour, so I can’t even use someone else’s wifi to track it down. It’s gone.

I go back to the guesthouse and fall asleep feeling foolish, angry, and grieving the loss of my phone. It will surely be an adjustment… I don’t even have an alarm clock to wake myself up tomorrow.

Cambodia: One Dollar Dorms and 25 Bananas

I don’t really feel like we need to spend any more time in Phnom Penh. It’s not my favourite city on earth, and the beautiful beaches of Koh Rong are beckoning us back South.

One Dollar Dorms and 25 Bananas

I don’t really feel like we need to spend any more time in Phnom Penh. It’s not my favourite city on earth, and the beautiful beaches of Koh Rong are beckoning us back South.

We get a bus ticket that will pick us up at 8:00 from our hostel. While we wait, we cut up the remainder of our fruit from yesterday morning. The $2.50 we spent has lasted us two days, not bad!

The usual crowded van picks us up and drives us to a larger bus. It only costs us $6.50 to make the four hour journey from Phnom Penh to Sihanoukville, where we will then catch a ferry. We’re on a bus that I would classify as a local bus. The seat numbers are the only things I can read, and there are a couple monks in our company. I don’t think monks take tourist buses but who knows, maybe!

Plan A was to arrive in Sihanoukville at 12:30 (as per the four hour listed drive time) and to catch the last ferry to Koh Rong at 2pm. It’s 1:50pm and we’re still on the bus, so it looks like we’ll be staying the night in Sihanoukville.
When we roll up at 3:00 and all I’ve eaten is a mango and a banana all day, I’m a little hangry.
We find motorbike drivers who will take us to a $2 dorm hostel with a pool for $2 each. Done. They also make a stop at a place to buy boat tickets, and an ATM at our request. My driver is a little too friendly and keeps calling me beautiful, asking if I have a boyfriend, and offering to take me for dinner. No thanks, but a free motorbike ride would be cool. No? Okay. I tried.

The most fabulous surprise in the world occurs when we arrive at the dorm and find out that a fan bed is only $1. One dollar. That’s basically free. We could upgrade to air-con for $2, but who needs air-con really? We take the thriftiest option and go with $1 fan. We drop our stuff and immediately head to the pool-side bar for some food. It’s 4pm and I’m starving. I order a pesto pasta for $2. If I hadn’t already seen photos of how beautiful Koh Rong is, I would totally stay in cheap Sianhoukville forever! But alas, we must leave this thrifty paradise tomorrow morning at 8:30am for the beautiful island. Not complaining. We had to boot a return boat ticket, so that means we’ll be stopping in Siahnoukville again anyway. Perhaps we’ll stay another night on our way back up into the mainland.

The hostel is quirky and basic, but totally awesome, especially for a dollar.

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I take a shower and we walk over to a street side Khmer restaurant for dinner. We each pay 5,000 riel ($1.25) for a plate of noodles and seafood. We get a free pot of green tea with ice just for showing up! After dinner we stop at a fruit vendor to get tomorrow’s breakfast. We get 25 bananas for $1. I can’t handle how cheap things are here. 25 bananas!

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We go down to the beach where there are some bars enticing people with free or cheap drinks and fire shows. It’s fine during the low season, but I could not imagine being in such a party place during the busy season. It’s a lot like Koh Phi Phi, in Thailand but cheaper. The cheaper thing is cool, but it’s still not my scene. I can’t wait to get up and go to calm Koh Rong tomorrow!

Cambodia: Killing Fields and S-21

It’s tough to get up for my 8am alarm. I’m still catching up on some lost sleep I suppose.
I wash my hair for the first time in well over a week. It feels so soft!!

Cambodia: Kampot to Phnom Penh

I wake up early after a pretty lame sleep. I don’t sleep solidly for more than two hours at a time which isn’t really fun. It’s time for us to leave Kampot. It’s been a time but there’s so much more to see in Cambodia! Something about Naga House makes people want to stay longer; we aren’t the only ones who’ve extended their stay by a couple nights. Some people have been here over a week! We’ve got to escape today or we might never leave this riverside hostel.

Killing Fields and S-21

It’s tough to get up for my 8am alarm. I’m still catching up on some lost sleep I suppose.
I wash my hair for the first time in well over a week. It feels so soft!!
By 9am we’re out the door looking for a ride to the killing fields, 15km outside Phnom Penh. The first driver we talk to starts at $15 to drive us there, wait for us, and take us back, and I try to talk him down to $10, but we settle on $12. He also agrees to take us to the market before we leave so we can pick up some fruit for the day. I come like half an inch away from being hit by a motorbike as I’m crossing the street. Playing Frogger all the time is hard, especially when people come ripping around corners. My tuk tuk driver sees my almost-accident and laughs hysterically. I’m just happy to still be standing, so I scoot off into the market and disappear beneath the tarps and where no motorbikes can find me. Safety. We get two large mangoes, three royal gala apples (which are expensive here, but I’m craving a good apple) and half a branch of big bananas, about 10 of them, all for $2.50. I don’t bother bargaining. I’m in love with the market prices in Cambodia!

We are driven out on bumpy dirt roads through what feels a little like people’s backyards. It takes us about half an hour to arrive at our destination of Cheong Ek, Cambodia’s most infamous killing field. The parking lot is pretty empty which means not too many crowds and a more enjoyable experience….if one can call learning about mass genocide enjoyable.
We pay a $6 entrance fee, which has either increased in the last few months or my Lonely Planet author hasn’t done his research. They had it listed for $5. The fee includes an information headset and is available in multiple languages, which is a bonus for Tamara, too. I don’t usually like these headset things, but somehow at Cheong Ek it just works. We follow a path with 19 very hard to see/listen to headset stops. Everyone wanders the grounds in complete silence. The remains of just under 10,000 people are displayed behind glass cases, and sometimes can still be seen along the pathway. Thirty years after the tragedy, the rainy season still brings to surface some bones and teeth that have not yet been exhumed. Large grave sites are marked by huts and have thousands of bracelets laced around the bamboo shoot walls, as what I assume are prayers for those who were lost. One grave in particular had an abundance of children’s remains, and scraps of their small clothing is displayed behind a glass box. It’s surreal and awful to stand in the exact place where so many innocent people were brutally murdered. The headset is very matter of fact and doesn’t hold anything back.

I had met a girl in Kampot who told me she wouldn’t visit the killing fields in her time here because she thought it was twisted for people to do. She said she “passed no judgements” on those who did visit, but thought it was creepy. It momentarily made me question my decision to visit. Clearly, I decided to go anyway, but I’m so happy I did because now I can see just how ignorant she is choosing to be by not visiting. As heavy and hard the information is to absorb, I think it’s really important for people from all over the world to hear, so that we can better prevent something so atrocious from happening again. Not to mention, so that we can see how far Cambodia has come in the past 30 years. Incredible.

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One of the most disturbing but grounding experiences at the killing fields, is the central monument that contains nothing but thousands of skulls. They are labeled with small colour co-ordinated stickers to differentiate between both gender and cause of death. The building is skinny, but a whopping seventeen stories high. I’ll never understand genocide in general, but genocide against one’s own people is even further beyond me.

We walk back, still silent and absorbing the abundance of information we were just given, to our tuk tuk. He tries to ask us for a considerably higher fee to go visit S-21, which is an old prison turned genocide museum. This is kind of my fault, as we planned to visit both today, but I didn’t think to ask the tuk tuk driver about it this morning. I assumed it would be close to the killing fields, but it’s back in the city. We meet in the middle and he agrees to drive us to S-21 for the same price we agreed on this morning, and we will get ourselves back to the hostel.
He hits two separate people on motorbikes on our drive back to the city, so it’s probably for the best that we’re finding our own way back from S-21.

We pay $2 to visit the museum, which is spread out among four buildings that used to house prisoners. Photos of nameless faces are laid out in rows stretching through multiple rooms, and rows of old cell blocks are available to wander through.
Some horrifying stories from survivors are written out in Khmer and translated into English. I don’t read all of them because frankly I fear the nightmares.

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On our way out, we notice a table where one of the survivors is sitting and is available to meet, and it looks like he has photos of himself for signing. He has a translator, and must be at least 80 years old now. I feel torn about going to speak with him. Of course, I admire his strength and bravery for being able to come back to such a place, but I also feel a little bit like he’s being treated like a zoo animal. Just another tourist attraction. Does he do this every day? We watch another tourist interact with him and while I think it would be amazing to meet one of the survivors, this isn’t the way.

We exit out to the street where a motorbike drives us back to our hostel for $2. It’s always a bit of a tight squeeze fitting me, Tam and a driver on one bike, but we have a system now where I put Tamara’s backpack over top of my own, I sit on the back, and then we have optimal amounts of space. It’s a dollar or two cheaper than taking a tuk tuk.

We get out and take a quick walk down the street to find lunch. We find some cheap eats and sit down. I order noodles with vegetables, and then last minute see they’ve got garlic naan bread on the menu so I get one. It’s a buck.
This is what happens when my meal comes.

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That is not noodles nor naan bread. How is it possible for things to get so lost in translation when you’re pointing at a menu? Oh well, at least the rice still tastes good.

Later, at 8:30 a small movie theatre just next to our hostel is playing a movie about the Killing Fields so we show up at 8:20 ready to chow down on some popcorn. Apparently it’s possible to make reservations here, and they’ve got a group of 17 coming in which means no space for us. Nooooo!
Okay plan B, we google movie theatres in Phnom Penh and find one that’s a half hour walk away. We’re too poor to afford transport so we just walk. The movies (Spider Man or Godzilla) don’t start until 9:30. While walking down an empty street I stop to check the map to make sure we’re going the right direction. Seconds later, a motorbike comes ripping around the corner, drives up on the sidewalk and tries to grab my cellphone out of my hand. I lose my grip on it and it goes tumbling down to the ground. In utter fear, oh my god all my pictures, music, and my life are on there!, I rush over to pick it up. The motorbike speeds off, and I tuck the phone safely in my backpack, forever. I can laugh because I got to keep it, but best believe I would be crying if it had been stolen. Ten minutes previously I was talking to Tam about how safe the city feels. Ha! Silly me.
I was also talking about how dirty it is, and oh my god is it ever a mess here. I think Phnom Penh might be the most garbage covered city I’ve ever been too. Delhi, Manila, and Havana included. Phnom Penh takes the cake with it’s stacks of garbage spilling out into the streets every 50 metres. You can’t look in any direction without seeing trash scattered about. The air quality feels really poor here too, but I have just come from beautiful, clean coastal spots like Phu Quoc and Kampot, so my standards might be too high.

We find the movie theatre without looking at my phone again. Tamara uses hers at one point, and I stand guard. Basically ready to kick any motorbike thief right in the face should he come anywhere near this sidewalk.
We get a popcorn and a drink, which are significantly smaller than what you would get in Canada but I’m not complaining. The snacks are also a fraction of the price, and who needs a two pound bag of popcorn like they serve back home anyway?

Godzilla might be the worst film of all time. I love going to the movies, but my lord. So bad.

It’s late now, and we don’t want to walk back, so we decide can afford to spend $2 dollars on a motorbike. The first guy we find tries to quote us SIX dollars. We walk away laughing and go in search of someone more reasonable. He follows us and after some real bargaining and not just insane prices, he agrees to take us back for $1.50. Yeah, that’s what I thought.

Cambodia: Kampotopoly

We have a lazy day at the hostel. The heat is too much and we had such a full day yesterday. Today, we rest. They’ve got a monopoly board behind the bar, so after lunch Tamara, Devin Ilpo and I bring that out and start a game. Just before we’ve finished counting our starter cash, a random guy at the hostel asks if he can join. My automatic response is to say yes and welcome him in, but we quickly realize the guy is a total wacko.

Kampot to Phnom Penh

I wake up early after a pretty lame sleep. I don’t sleep solidly for more than two hours at a time which isn’t really fun. It’s time for us to leave Kampot. It’s been a time but there’s so much more to see in Cambodia! Something about Naga House makes people want to stay longer; we aren’t the only ones who’ve extended their stay by a couple nights. Some people have been here over a week! We’ve got to escape today or we might never leave this riverside hostel.

I go down to reception and book Tamara and I both a bus up to Phnom Penh, the capital of Cambodia. I take one last dip in the river, order some breakfast, and say goodbye to Ilpo as he sets out to hitch hike his way to Sianouhkville. Sigrid joins me for some early morning food as well, then we head out on our scooter in an attempt to find the cheap fruit market. We fail miserably and can’t remember where it is, but we do find and stop at the used book store. I’m in need of a new book after finishing mine and giving it to Romain.
I don’t find anything that speaks to me, and decide to wait for something better in Phnom Penh.

When we get back Tamara is awake and I let her know about our tickets to Phnom Penh. We had meant to book them yesterday but got caught up being too lazy and playing Kampotopoly.
We’ve got a couple more hours to kill before we need to pack, as our bus doesn’t leave until 1pm. We spend most of the morning chatting and looking at a map of Cambodia, trying to figure out if we can meet up with Devin or Sigrid again along the way, but I’m sure we will.

I really hate goodbyes, but when it’s time to leave I hug Devin and Sigrid and wish them well. We hop in a tuk tuk that takes us directly to our mini van and we start the three hour drive to Phnom Penh. Tamara fills me in on the rest of the night that I missed when I was sick, but it doesn’t sound like I missed too much at all. Phew. FOMO avoided.

We meet an Australian girl when we’re getting off the bus in the capital city. We share a tuk tuk with her down to the river where all the hostels are located. She has booked into a $5 dorm room, but Tamara and I are craving a bit of our own space and have heard there are private rooms at another hostel for $6. The private rooms at this hostel start at $14. We continue on to find cheaper accommodation.
When we get to our recommended $6 accommodation, we are told private rooms start at $8. Argh. I try to make pals, joke around and do some bargaining, and I even mention that a friend stayed here for $6, but the best they offer is $7. Fine.
We are shown to what I assume must be the shittiest room in the entire building. With only one pillow, two fans, and no mirror in the bathroom. We commit to it, but later I figure that paying $8 would have probably gotten us a considerable upgrade. It’s kinda too late now, and like I always say, I can sleep anywhere. On the plus side, the 50 cents we’re saving per night is like a whole 1.5L bottle of water that we can have later!

We head straight up to the rooftop bar where we can have wifi and food. I get a mixed fruit juice that has carrots and pineapples in it, and I am in love. It’s a struggle not to inhale the whole thing in one go. By 6pm, and after a disappointing sleep last night, I am exhausted. Tamara and I go back to our sad little room and take a nap.
By nap I mean we sleep for two hours. The only reason I wake up is because my daily 8pm alarm goes off. God I hope this doesn’t ruin my sleeping pattern for later.

I wish I could put into the words the texture of my arm right now. I have approximately one million small bumps covering my elbow and
stretching midway up my upper-arm. To the naked eye it looks relatively normal, but to the touch I am a lumpy mess. It only itches on occasion and I am perplexed as to what possibly could have caused this. I throw some tiger balm on it and hope for the best.

We sit on the rooftop bar of our hostel until midnight when we decide it’s time to sleep. Tomorrow we have a heavy day of sight seeing and I want to be well rested.

Kampotopoly

We have a lazy day at the hostel. The heat is too much and we had such a full day yesterday. Today, we rest. They’ve got a monopoly board behind the bar, so after lunch Tamara, Devin Ilpo and I bring that out and start a game. Just before we’ve finished counting our starter cash, a random guy at the hostel asks if he can join. My automatic response is to say yes and welcome him in, but we quickly realize the guy is a total wacko. My bad everyone. He’s the kinda guy who seems perma-fried from some serious hard drugs. He seriously yells at me and threatens to stop playing (like I care) for buying a property after I’ve passed the dice to the next person. We just wanted to have a friendly and relaxing game….we’ve made a huge mistake.

To keep the game interesting, we make “jail” the river, so if you ever go to jail you’ve got to jump in and stay until someone rolls you out. The same applies for landing on the “just visiting” space. It’s a fun way to cool off during the hot afternoon. We call it Kampotopoly. Jail is the best part. Playing with the stoned monopoly nazi certainly doesn’t make the game any better, but I still have fun playing with everyone else. It is my favourite board game after all!

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Sigrid comes back from shopping at the market and brings us some fruit. We snack on a bag of delicious lychees while we play. I learn that you can just bite down on the pit instead of struggling to eating the fruit around it, which is a huge revelation for me!

I win Kampotopoly (hollaaaaaaa) and we clean up then head out for dinner. We meet up with Sigrid’s friend David that she met in Vietnam, and his two new travel buddies. I order a vegetable curry for dinner, the same as Ilpo and Tamara.
We move to another bar after our meal for some cheap beer and about an hour in I start to feel really nauseous. I never get sick. It doesn’t make sense to me, because Tamara and Ilpo ate the exact same meal as I did, and they feel fine. It can’t be the food. I try to wait it out but end up leaving on my own and hailing a tuk tuk to get home. I make it back to the hostel just in time, because as soon as I hit the washroom I start puking. I’m only sick for 10 minutes before I stand up and feel great. Totally back to normal. What the hellllll?! I consider going back to meet everyone because I have serious FOMO syndrome (Fear Of Missing Out) but I decide to be responsible and go to sleep instead. I’ll save a couple bucks this way too. I bring a little plastic bag into my bug tent with me, just in case, but I never need to use it. I am magically cured.