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.)

Recently, I went on a road trip to Atlantic City, New Jersey with my brother and his family. It was a spur-of-the-moment decision that resulted in me packing my bags in only minutes. But I appreciate spontaneity — it adds some spice to life.

Although we hit the road in the early hours of the morning, it took us the whole day to arrive at our destination since, besides taking a few breaks along the way, at one point, we got lost — and miserably so. Thus, by the time we arrived at our hotel, it was almost midnight. But I was glad the kids were still up, because the hotel lights from afar were splendid when we were driving in.

The day after our arrival, rather than relaxing on the beach with my family, I decided to take a stroll alone along the boardwalk strip instead, capturing photos and exploring food venues. Initially, I was on the hunt for an ice cream cone, but then I stumbled upon Boardwalk Cupcakes, a cute-as-a-button cupcake shop, whose colourful banner was enough to tickle my curiosity and lure me in.

Given all the time in the world, I would’ve spent the day sampling all the flavours on the menu, for they looked tummy-satisfying. But because I had kids to entertain, I left my wild cupcake fantasies aside and headed over to the beach, where I surprised my nieces with a box of Oreo and strawberry cupcakes. The munchkins screamed in excitement.

My brother and sister-in-law, who aren’t big dessert eaters, thought these cupcakes were divine and not overly sweet. They also laughed at the fact that I kept appearing at the beach with food and then disappearing, only to reappear with more food and then disappear again. I don’t deny my strangeness but I figured they’d be hungry since they were at the beach all day.

I wish I’d taken a walk along the strip our final night there and witnessed the spectacular views, especially when A was kind enough to invite me out. Instead, because my batteries had reached complete depletion after a long day of exploring, I fell asleep like a baby. Not to mention I felt psychologically exhausted.

On our way home, we took a final stop at the Woodbury outlet in Central Valley, NY. Exploring and people-watching was pleasant, but part of me still couldn’t wrap my head around the hype surrounding designer clothes, shoes, cosmetics, and handbags. Go figure. The only item I’d purchased was pizza. A whole box of it. And it was amazing.

Looking in retrospect, getting lost was quite an adventure. It was an experience where, not only did I trust my intuition and take initiative, but also one in which, despite the external conditions surrounding me, I made a conscious decision to maintain a healthy internal landscape, watering only the seeds of trust, compassion, patience, and perseverance. Lessons in challenges. Always.

Near the end of our trip, we’d been asked by the kind gentleman in the blue cap, who we saw tending the garden every morning by our room, if we’d like some coconuts. Yes, please! Fresh coconut water on a hot spring day was heavenly. Something I would’ve loved to have tried though, was climb a tree and knock down a coconut myself.

Someone had been hard at work building this adorable elephant in the sand

The second time we had coconuts, which we’d purchased from a stand by the beach, my sister was so bent on eating the meat that she flung her coconut on the floor of our room, hoping to smash it in two. (Now we know that if there’d been an earthquake at the resort, it was definitely her sassy coconut’s doing.)

On our last night, during a Cuban dance performance, one of our friends — he had beautiful clear green eyes — had asked me to join him, and I knew what to do at that point: I pointed to my sister instead. That I put her on the spot and she was shy because of how handsome he was — which she didn’t care to admit, and let’s be real, everyone was watching — made for a comical and sweet moment. She was fantastic and she had a good time. Bystanders from the crowd joined in and it became a very fun night.

I’ll miss Cuba and the people, most definitely. I’ll also miss spending time with the big sis — waking up and eating together, sharing jokes and laughing, and just having a relaxing time.

On the way to Havana, the bus stopped at this infamous piña colada shack for tourists to take a washroom break and grab refreshments. We had a choice of ordering the drink in a glass for 3 pesos, or in a fresh pineapple for 5. Of course we decided on the latter. And wow, this piña colada really was the best ever! Unbelievably rich and creamy.

Note that if you’re visiting Havana, be sure to bring toilet paper with you because you won’t be having access to any — that is, unless you feel like living life on the sexy lane, and drying yourself out in the sun and being one with nature.

La Bodeguita del Medio

La Bodeguita del Medio, a restaurant-bar in Old Havana, has become a go-to spot for tourists, as it’s been frequented by famous writers such as Pablo Neruda, Gabriel Garcia Marquez, and Ernest Hemingway. If you visit flea markets, you’d see numerous paintings of this bar floating around.

Visiting Havana was undoubtedly the highlight of my trip to Cuba. I would’ve loved to have spent days and nights learning and exploring, and trying new things, even in the heat. The restless adventurer in me is never satisfied; she just wants to keep moving. It’s quite unfortunate, however, that we had only a day to explore the city.

Looking in retrospect, rather than staying at a resort and basking in the sun on the beach, I would’ve chosen to stay in a small residence and eat street food and experience life as a local instead. While I appreciated my time at the resort, it was important for me to escape the confines of this gated community of affluence, this environment of false perfection, that masked the realities of the inequalities existing all around us. I longed for imperfection. I longed to witness and experience everyday life out there in its most raw and authentic state. I longed to feel, for something to strike my soul.

The highlight of Havana was our visit to a children’s school. Through the crack of a classroom door, a beautiful little girl of about six years old with golden blonde hair, smiled and waved at my sister and me. Of course, we kindly smiled and waved back at her. Moments like these — watching children learn in school and exchanging smiles with a child — constitute life in all its authenticity, and bring me great joy.

I was also deeply touched when a friend came across a boy who, instead of eating the croissant she gave him, placed it in his pocket and saved it for his family. It’s in such a split second, which is so easily overlooked, that one witnesses the beauty of life — love, patience, dedication, sacrifice. I felt deeply with him from a human being to another, and from a heart to another. Had I been in his shoes, I would’ve done the same for those I love.

As time flies, I’m beginning to truly feel in all my being that when I choose to walk through life with an open heart and mind, and to operate from a place of acceptance, understanding, and compassion, beauty is everywhere, in all people, in all places, in all circumstances. And my brief visit to Havana has taught me a great deal about myself, and what I value most in my life.