First night in Bangkok. After checking into our hostel, it was time for eats and exploring the night markets. Whatever it was that I ate that night, set the tone for my debilitating existence the following day.

Boat ride on the Chao Phraya River

Chinatown in Bangkok

It was unfortunate that I was sick throughout what little time we had in Bangkok, which meant that I couldn’t muster the energy to see the Royal Palace, the floating market, and all of the tourist-y attractions that are characteristic of the city. However, for what remained, I appreciate having had the chance to do a skeletal run of Bangkok. I especially enjoyed the boat tour on the Chao Phraya River which was very scenic.

After Bangkok, we flew to Koh Samui. Something I appreciated about the island was the clear night sky. There were nights when I’d stand outside of our villa and star-gaze, admiring the beauty of the universe, just as I’d done in Varadero. The stars and the moon have always reminded me that wherever I tread, I’m always connected to everything and everyone, no matter the distance.

Another moment which deserves mentioning is the safari tour. Driving up the steep mountain and at such an incredible speed, I think it’s safe to say that we were on the most intense roller coaster ride of our lives. We sat on the wooden seats lining the back of the truck; had we not been strapped in, we would’ve flown out! It was a great deal of fun. Though I felt for those who sat on the roof; being at such a height, they got what I call a natural face massage (featuring tree branches). The safari tour also included a monkey and an elephant show. I fed Bambi here (I named her Bambi) bananas, and her trunk gave me quite the tickle.

We also visited a coconut plantation where I tried an all-natural coconut ice cream cone with some surprise sticky rice at the bottom. For a hot day, it was heavenly! (Except that returning to that roller coaster ride of a truck with my ice cream cone in hand meant that I couldn’t enjoy it in peace without giving myself an ice cream facial.)

The infamous Hinta Hinyai rocks — aka Grandfather and Grandmother Rocks — on Koh Samui. You can only spot Grandfather here.

Koh Samui was followed by a ferry ride to Koh Tao. We stayed at a diving resort as some of us decided to take diving lessons. The manager was a friendly fellow with an even more fascinating life story, and to my surprise, his hometown wasn’t too far off from mine back home. When he helped me carry my luggage, which was twice my size, up the flights of stairs, he jokingly said, “Such a big bag for someone so small; it must be all that makeup,” to which I replied, “I actually don’t have any.” We all laughed.

My companions knew the ins and outs of travel, and this is why they brought backpacks. As for me, I was causing a traffic jam everywhere I went (at least in my mind I was). That’s how you knew I was a travel novice: my luggage looked as if it was carrying my entire life savings. For someone who lead a simple, minimal life, I sure appeared otherwise. And that was because I didn’t know what or how much to pack on my first trip to Asia, so I did what every so-called normal person would do: pack their whole existence. Suffice it to say, I lived and I learned.

After unpacking and settling in to our new abode, I took a stroll on the beach and stumbled upon a friendly boy and his handsome little monkey and confidante.

Colourful fishing boats abound on Koh Tao which was always a lovely sight. After an adventure-filled snorkelling round, we stopped on Koh Nangyuan. Here’s a picturesque view of the island after a hike to the top.

Haad Rin beach on Koh Phangan. Feeling adventurous, we rented a car and with one of us behind the wheel and myself sitting in front studying the map, we set out exploring the whole island. The drive itself was an adventure, for the roads were unbelievably steep and serpentine. We were also surprised to see dogs everywhere, even on the roads.

After dinner one night, it rained incredibly hard and we ran and laughed the whole way home, and by the time we arrived, we were completely soaked. I can’t think of something more romantic than running in the pouring rain in the empty streets of a far-off island, in what feels like the middle of nowhere. That was something I appreciated while being on the island: rainy days.

Night food market on Koh Phangan. That night, we had squid on a stick, ribs, and a Thai papaya salad, as well as some fruits and fried snacks for dessert. I wish I had extra pockets like kangaroos because there were delicious eats everywhere and I had no space left!

Cute beach-themed shop in front of our hotel which sold handmade seashell crafts, notebooks, cards and other souvenirs

After exploring the islands, we took the ferry back to Koh Samui. My final night there before flying back to Bangkok was low key, and involved sitting on the beach listening to James Taylor’s “You’ve Got A Friend” all evening. It was during moments when I sat on the beach in solitude, surrounded by nothing but water and the shadows of the far-off mountains, that I truly felt that home is where the heart is.

Paradoxically, my heart wasn’t in Thailand. I felt no emotional tie during my time there. Prior to my arrival, I understood that I wouldn’t be experiencing Thailand’s culture and history, rich in all their beauty and grace, for the simple reason that our trip was a touristic one, as reflected by the choice of our destinations. Venturing to the islands, I knew that they’d be tourist-infested and overly commercialized, which is why, had I been on my own, I would’ve opted to travel to the nooks and crevices of other regions instead. But that’s one of the major downfalls about travelling with companions whose interests and yours clash, and whose veils of perception are intimately tied to their Lonely Planet: you have to settle. (As with other areas of life, where the crowd goes, don’t go.)

Time was another factor. We’d spent one full day tops in Bangkok — that we’d spent such little time there was itself a major setback; and the one day that we had to visit sacred shrines and temples, I was sick with crippling dizziness and nausea and I was unable to walk without feeling a dire need to find something to support my body. It didn’t help that it was unbearably hot and that tourists were everywhere. (That’s one of the things I liked least about being there: not the monumental number of tourists per se, but tourists whose fans and umbrellas held the capacity to knock out whatever life I had left in me, which comically, was not much.) Suffice it to say, I took a cab back to my hostel — at which point I was already on the ground while trying to wave one — and spent the major part of my time vomiting and in bed.

Beyond the little mishaps (which I couldn’t help but laugh about because they made my adventure more amusing), my quest for Asia was, in essence, a way for me to experience life beyond my Western roots. In Cambodia I had a chance to interact with locals and experience life with them, and it’s unfortunate that I didn’t get to experience the same in Thailand. Based on what little time and experience I had in Bangkok and on the islands — which of course constitute a false representation of Thailand — I concluded that these places weren’t for me, as they were a replica of everything that I’d wished to escape.

In retrospect, I had a memorable time filled with adventures and laughter, and the people I did meet were full of zest. I just know that if I’d spent more time in Thailand and ventured into the soul of the country, then I would’ve experienced its people, its culture, its history in all their true colours and authenticity. Being raised by Cambodian parents who’d taken refuge in Thailand following the Cambodian Genocide, I’m well aware of the depth of history and culture that Thailand has to offer. My time there was a touristic one, and with that came a superficial experience — a scratch of the surface with no depth.

View of Battambang

A fertilized duck egg

Tried fried insects

Sticky rice in a bamboo tube. Favourite dessert!

Another Khmer dessert featuring sticky rice, coconut shavings, sesame seeds, and palm sugar

At Wat Banan

Killing Caves of Phnom Sampeau

If I left my heart somewhere in Cambodia, it’s probably in Battambang. It was here that I developed a close-knit relationship with my Battambang host family. They were hospitable and kind-hearted, and I felt the love and depth of care emanating from their hearts. Together, we celebrated Cambodian New Year with young locals.

Celebrating this festive event in Cambodia was a first for me, and I was impressed by the spirit of the community; everyone participated, laughed, and had fun. It’s tradition for locals to line the streets holding water guns, buckets of water, and bottles of baby powder, and to shoot them at passersby. I myself joined in and got completely soaked, and by the end of it looked like a geisha gone wrong! In essence, I had a wonderful time filled with laughter. We also attended live performances and floated lanterns into the night sky.

As for the eats? Well, being the adventurers that we are, before coming on our trip we made a pact that we’d try bizarre foods in Battambang. It was unfortunate, however, that we were only able to find fried insects and fertilized duck eggs. (I’ve eaten the latter before — pretty good, I dare say.) A sure food highlight for me, though, was eating Khmer desserts, my favourite being sticky rice in a bamboo tube, also known as “num krolan.”

Decades of making “num krolan” and a star at what she does

Another highlight of Battambang was having a traditional Khmer picnic in a bamboo hut which sat above the water. A usual Khmer picnic often involves ordering and sharing an array of dishes, and at the end of the meal, retiring to a nearby hammock for a relaxing afternoon nap. But, fret not. Besides stuffing ourselves, we also exercised by visiting Wat Banan, which involved a hyperventilating climb of over 300 steps!

Phnom Sampeau, where the killing caves are located, was another mountainous site that involved a steep climb. Here we saw the skeletons and skulls of those who’d been bludgeoned to death and then tossed down this cave during the Khmer Rouge Regime. Every evening at dusk, millions of bats pour out of this cave. This astonishing sight lasts for about a good half hour.

Occheuteal beach in Sihanoukville

Sunset on Occheuteal beach

Kep

Selling waffles in a mini food market in Kep

The last places we visited in Cambodia were Sihanoukville and Kep. The beaches in Sihanoukville were lovely, and it was common to see people walking around selling food on the spot and offering massages. I enjoyed spending time with our Battambang host family and eating seafood by the beach every day. (Except that I got eaten alive by sand fleas.)

Kep was just as stunning — if not more so. The drive along the stretch of the water was very scenic. I was lucky to stumble upon a lovely lady at the market who made some fine waffles, some of which were plain and some of which were filled with sweet beans and coconut. Just what I was craving. I think I stuffed myself unconscious that day!

Something to note is that Cambodia is home to some exquisite islands, such as Koh Kong, Koh Rong, Koh Tonsay, Song Saa Private Island, and Koh Ta Kiev, most of which aren’t so well known and visited (which is why they’re gems). It’s unfortunate that I didn’t get to visit them this time around. Alas, next time.

Phnom Penh was followed by a trip to Siem Reap, and on the way there, we stopped at this awe-inspiring ancient bridge called the “Kampong Kdei Bridge.” Built in the 12th century by King Jayavarman VII, it was recognized as the longest bridge in the world with corbel stone arches. Notice the Naga head.

At Banteay Srei.

Monkeys were everywhere in Angkor! I fed them bananas and found them to be quite amusing characters. One even sat on a motorcycle and checked itself out in the mirror.

Meet our new friends

I met these three beautiful children at a local village in Siem Reap. When the boy’s mother put him down and walked off to attend to her tasks, he began crying, and when I picked him up and carried him, he stopped and stared at me intently with a shy grin on his face. (He was naked by the way.) Moments like these tugged at my heartstrings, for they served as reminders that love and compassion extend beyond socially- and politically-constructed identities, and are universal in nature. Suffice it to say, we became friends after that.

First tuk tuk ride!

My first time watching a live Apsara dance performance. The dancers were adorned with decorative accessories, making them appear like enchanting goddesses. The dance was breathtaking, too — elegant, graceful, feminine. Such grace of movement!

Angkor Wat, dating from the early 12th century, is the largest religious monument ever built. Upon entering, I was rendered speechless, for it was beautiful — and almost hauntingly so. I experienced, at once, a deep appreciation for the beauty of Khmer architecture and a feeling of sadness for the loss of what once was an exceptional civilization. Angkor Wat is undoubtedly a long-standing remnant of an extraordinary empire, carrying within its walls spirits of the past.

I remember how peaceful I felt praying at this holy site. (Not to mention how surreal it felt to be praying in one of the most ancient temples in the world.) I was also blessed by a monk who tied a beautifully-scented red ribbon around my wrist, adorned me with holy water, and chanted prayers offering me blessings. It was both a sacred and heartwarming moment for me. I continued wearing the ribbon until I returned to Canada, at which point to preserve it, I snipped it off and stored it in a treasured place.

Carvings of Apsara dancers. Such intricate details of carvings are spectacular and are found at every nook and cranny of Angkor Wat. If I were to trace every single detail of this temple with my fingers, it would probably take me many lifetimes.

Final goodbyes to Angkor Wat.

Gateway into Angkor Thom. It was at this site that I began to feel sick. I don’t think there was a moment more comical during my stay in Cambodia than emergency tuk tuk-ing to a washroom, only to be greeted by a baby gecko on the wall, on top of feeling as though I was physically disintegrating and on the verge of saying goodbye to earthly life.

At Prasat Bayon, which lies at the heart of Angkor Thom. Notice the giant stone faces.

Ta Prohm

Apparently, this was one of the sites where Angelina Jolie’s Lara Croft: Tomb Raider (2001) was filmed.

Preah Khan temple

There’s me feeling like an ant!

From atop the Baphuon is a magnificent view of the ruins. This temple is known for its built-in reclining buddha statue, which can be easily overlooked if not keenly observed.

In retrospect, when I entered Angkor, a “city” of over 400 square kilometres which served as the heart of the Khmer Empire from approximately the 9th to the 15th century, I was at a loss for words. Home to countless abandoned temples, Angkor was so majestic it was humbling, and I feel blessed to have had the chance to witness it at least once in my lifetime. And to think that I’d only seen a small chunk of it!

Here’s a traditional Khmer dish called “amok.” My first taste of it (besides what I can recall from childhood) was in Siem Reap. This version of “amok” consisted of fish and veggies steamed in coconut milk curry and wrapped in banana leaves. It was so delicious, I ate the whole thing! From that point on, it became the dish that my body and soul longed for.

The time I spent in Asia was short; however, if I counted moments instead of days, it felt like a lifetime. Each day was an adventure filled with surprises, from being greeted by a gang of cackling chickens in a washroom, to stumbling upon a fortune teller, who awakened a spark in me, to witnessing the disheartening inequalities between the poorest of the poor and the richest of the rich. In essence, we’d experienced it all — the bizarre, the marvellous, the sweat, the tears, the smiles, the laughs.

What’s striking is that I felt most at home when I didn’t have a place called home, and was on the constant move from one place to another. I’ve met strangers along the way who’ve felt like family — family I never knew. Thus I understood that home is where the heart is. In retrospect, I regret not having extended my stay, or better yet, buying a one-way ticket at the beginning. But for what it is, it’s been a beautiful and humbling journey — certainly one of self-discovery, and I’m grateful for the experience.

Something I really enjoyed during my stay in Phnom Penh was exploring street vendors and food night markets. If you’d like a taste of authenticity, rather than visiting touristic restaurants, opt for local. Eating like a local is not only inexpensive, but the food is delicious and watching the vendors cook live is a neat experience. I also loved trying an array of traditional Khmer desserts, which can cost as little as 500 – 2000 riel (4000 riel is about 1 USD).

The fish section at Orussey Market wasn’t the greatest smelling place to be, but I purposely sought it out; after all, I was on a mission to buy some “trei ngeat!” A staple in the traditional Khmer household, “trei ngeat” is essentially dried, preserved fish (quite salty) that’s often eaten with rice or rice porridge. My favourite type of “trei ngeat” is called “trei ngeat samyong,” and it’s made sweet.

If you’re a true Khmer, you can’t visit Cambodia and not shop for dried fish to bring back home with you. (Not that I was raised in a traditional Khmer household either — far from it — which is why this feat is ironic and comical.) I purchased a few kilos to share with my family; depending on the fish, the price can range anywhere from 10 to 70 USD a kilo. These perishable items are also quite travel-friendly; they just need to be wrapped and sealed well, and vendors will happily help foreign customers with it.

Markets selling handcrafts, souvenirs, clothes, jewellery, beauty supplies, and home goods abound in Phnom Penh, so another exciting development for me was learning the art of bargaining. Here’s a tip: Give your lowest price and then work your way up. I was particularly fond of all of the paintings and the hand-carved sculptures of Apsara dancers, mythological figures, and temples made out of such bases as wood, stone, and metal.

The Royal Palace. Visiting the scene was heart-warming for me because it’s where my mother used to practice Khmer classical dances when she was young. It was also neat seeing the university where my father studied. He was part of the choir at the Royal University of Fine Arts in Phnom Penh in the years preceding the Genocide, and was nicknamed “kon saw” — literally translated as “white son” — by King Norodom Sihanouk, due to his light skin colour as a Chinese. Needless to say, it would’ve been enriching if my parents were able to accompany me on my trip; I would’ve loved to have been given a glimpse into their past.

While sitting in a tuk tuk in traffic, sometimes we’d be approached by someone selling these traditional handmade Khmer jasmine garlands, and every time I saw a basket of them, I experienced a surge of joy. My mother loved jasmine flowers — we call them “pka malis” in Khmer — and we even grew them in our home when I was a child.

Sometimes I’d buy these garlands and place them under my pillow for a lovely scent; other times I’d buy them and hang them in the tuk tuk for the driver and his clients to enjoy. It was a way for me to support families especially the children selling them.

“Phsar Thmei” market

Speaking of crossing, an interesting sight in Phnom Penh was the traffic and the driving. Ay Caramba! If you’ve been to Phnom Penh, you’d know what I mean. So if there’s something else I learned, it’s the art of crossing the street, which tends to involve closing both eyes and taking a leap of faith. (Not sure if I’m crazy or if I’ve just reached a heightened state of enlightenment. Pretty sure it’s the former.)