A Rough Morning, and Lots of Nature

We had every intention of pulling an all-nighter. It was Friday, the work week was over, it was Happy Hour, and we were just beginning to test the luscious waters of a three-day weekend. The cocktails and beer flowed, the Red Bulls were downed, and without thought for responsibility or repercussions we took on the night with full force and full wallets: the night was young and the weekend was younger. It felt like we had all the time in the world, and our private taxi to Koh Kong wasn’t leaving until 6:00 the next morning. Our plan? To drink away the night and inhibitions, greet the sunrise with drunken satisfaction, eat a hearty breakfast, and pass out in the car for the five-hour journey to our jungle paradise.

We really did have every intention of pulling an all-nighter. But at about 1:00 in the morning, I received a text from a member of our travel party kindly informing me that we didn’t need to wait for her the next morning because she’d apparently found a better offer and had decided to travel to Koh Kong with some other friends. This was, as you may guess, really great news to hear at the last minute, because it meant that the weekend we’d budgeted by splitting things four ways was now to be split only three ways, which meant the rest of us got to spend even more money, and with the added bonus of being jilted! Such respect and consideration for already-made plans put me in an overwhelmingly good mood, and I managed to remain awake until about 2:00 in the morning, four hours before our planned departure, at which point the work week caught up with me and I quite literally started falling asleep on my feet. I managed to make it home, where I commenced my inebriated stumbling and tore through my room, a mumbling, drunken, smelly, tired tornado trying to finish packing for a three-day trip, a simple task that when drunk and exhausted becomes infinitely more difficult. Things did get easier when, after fifteen minutes of bumping into things and scrambling around, I remembered to turn on a light.

I managed to pack a backpack of stuff and take what I now guess to be about an hour-and-a-half-long nap before waking up at about 4:30. Talk about being bright-eyed and bushy-tailed! I awoke smelling like roses and ready to run a marathon! I leapt right out of bed, did a backflip and some cartwheels, danced a little jig, floated into my bathroom, looked into my mirror and beheld a goddess of the morning. With unmatched beauty and grace she returned my gaze: her hair, a rat’s nest; her eyes, racoon-like and smudged with makeup; her skin, a blinding, oily reflector of the too-bright fluorescent light. A vision! Having to confront such beauty is enough to make any girl feel self-conscious, so I took a very quick, very cold, and very sobering shower before zipping my backpack and making my way downstairs. And I suppose at some point I got dressed.

We’d arranged for our taxi to pick us up outside Walkabout, a restaurant/bar that old fogies or people from the Victorian era might call “a place of ill repute”, but what I’ll just call a hooker bar, which is open 24/7, and which sits directly across the street from my apartment. This makes it convenient for accessing A) drunken breakfasts, and B) hookers, because I can get any or either whenever I want, and all I have to do is cross the street without getting hit by a tuk-tuk (which is sometimes a challenge). In this case, though, there was only time to satisfy one voracious appetite, so I opted for the less-talkative and better-dressed choice A.

I had breakfast with Mark, and we met Kristin there as we were finishing our eggs and toast (I won’t go into the epic saga of my quest to order a baguette at this damn restaurant, or the fact that ordering said baguette apparently requires several people asking several other people something about something, and that ordering a baguette for some reason necessitates a summit in the kitchen that involves every single staff member, and that once it’s decided that I can have a baguette because I ordered and paid for a baguette, I might as well go buy the ingredients myself, mix them, bake them, scratch my balls for half an hour, AND hire a hooker, because all of that would be faster and more efficient than whatever the hell I waited through to get a damn piece of bread). We met our taxi man around the corner, loaded our bags in the trunk, and I climbed in with my Spongebob-clad pillow and passed out. It was a glorious half hour before I was awakened by the gentle jostling of our Toyota Camry plunging in and out of foot-deep potholes. As you may have guessed again, even despite my exhaustion, I was so thrilled to have been awoken that I burst into a song of joy that my travel companions later likened to the yowlings of a grumpy cat.

The rest of the journey was essentially a struggle for sleep, an epic battle between myself and the Camry, who had the roads of Cambodia on its side to assist in destroying any possible chance of slumber. I think I managed to catch about 15 seconds here and there, and combined with the time it took to eat a bit of stale baguette I’d wrapped in napkins and brought with me, it felt like we arrived in Koh Kong in no time at all, because, as they say, time flies when you’re having fun, and if you haven’t guessed by now, I was having a really, really great time! Really!

All sarcasm aside, I really was looking forward to the trip, but just wanted to get there already, and probably should have gone about it with a little less alcohol in my system. But despite my poor choices and a slight-but-obnoxious change in the arrangements, get there we did, arriving in Tatai Village in the early afternoon. Our taxi dropped us off at a bridge, and we walked under it to meet the boat that would take us to our lodgings. It was a simple canoe with a roof and a motor, and more often than not it felt like we were going to tip over, but we sailed safely, basking in the pure nature: the clean water, the fresh air, the bright sunshine, the dense jungle. It was a perfect transition from the city, and when we reached the dock and our captain cut the motor, the silence was almost as gorgeous as the sights. We took a short trail through the forest to reach the lodge, which I linked you to earlier and which is as beautiful and wonderful as it looks. We met one of the operators, Gee, and he gave us the rundown of the place and the various ways we could spend our time. There were kayaks and trails we could take to caves and waterfalls, and longer treks through the jungle that could take us to the really cool places.

Gee took us to our bungalow, the one they call the family unit, with two bedrooms and a bathroom. It was quaint but beautiful, with little lizards scurrying around the walls, and mosquito nets over the beds. We ate lunch and spent a relaxing afternoon in the river. Kristin took a kayak to explore, and Mark and I stayed near the dock, swimming and struggling with an inner tube that was about the size of a tractor tire. We took naps and showers and made it to the great house for 7:30 dinner, which was a three-course buffet of scrumptiousness. We played some card games, watched Scream 4 (in the spirit of Halloween!), and went to bed early to rest up for the next day’s trek.

We set out at about 10:30 after a leisurely morning and breakfast, our skin already shiny with mosquito repellant and sweat. We’d been told that the leeches would get us, so it was suggested to wear as little as possible or as much as possible, so you could either see them and get them quickly, or so they couldn’t get through at all. (There’s a picture in an earlier post of the three of us about to set off. You might tell I opted to wear as little as possible. This was not a day long pants were made for.) We set off and spent the next two hours ducking, leaping, trudging, and climbing around the mountainside that would take us to the Tatai waterfall. The heat was unbelievable. In the dense parts of the forest there was little sun, but the air was so still that everything just seemed to stick and build up on my skin, and I’d brought nothing with which to wipe off, so there was a delightful mixture of sweat and dirt beading and dripping from my face. There also wasn’t much to see, except for bamboo, so I must admit that the trek itself left something to be desired. I was a sweaty, hot mess, smacking bugs and flicking leeches away, trying to wipe sweat from my face with an arm that was just as sweaty, all while trying to convince myself that the waterfall at the end would be worth it.

And it was worth it. It was so worth it. The falls were beautiful and untouched, and there was hardly another soul there. The water was cool and clean, the sun was shining, and we were free to explore wherever we wanted for as long as we wanted. The only rule was that we keep our socks on: socks on the rocks, as Gee explained. When they’re not wet, the rocks are fine to walk on, but when water touches the surface, they get extremely slippery and are difficult to maneuver. Socks are the only thing that provide some sort of traction (shoes are no good, nor are bare feet), but even then you have to be careful. I slipped several times, luckily where the water was deep enough to break my fall, but Kristin and some others suffered some pretty hard hits.

The waterfall really was a blast, though, and it was awesome to play in the water and lay in the sun and take in the scenery. We stayed there for several hours, and had our lunch delivered by boat, which took us back down the river when we were ready to head home. When we returned, we journeyed across the river to a small village, where we walked around for a bit before getting caught by an evening rainstorm. A generous family saw us take shelter under a pitiful palm bush and invited us into their home, which was a small shack set up on stilts. We kicked our shoes off, wiped the jungle rain from our faces, and climbed a short ladder into their house, where we sat with them for about ten minutes, waiting for the boat to come back for us. They didn’t speak English, so we weren’t really able to communicate with them, and we just sort of sat and smiled while they stared and grinned at us. The boat returned to pick us up, and we had a nap and another delicious dinner.

When we stepped out of the great house at about 9:30 that night, the sky was a complete explosion of stars. I’ve never seen so many stars, and the night was as clear as glass. There was even some sort of cloudy whiteness whirling into the depths of the night that we hypothesized might be the Milky Way, which I’d never seen before. It was unbelievable. I feel hesitant to write about it for fear of sounding trite and dramatic, but that sky was a very humbling and confounding thing. It was at once flat and endless, and made me feel both small and huge. There were moments when it felt like a sort of safe blanket around the world, and then other times when I could practically feel myself spinning through dizzying, infinite space. The stars felt so close and so far, and there were so many of them. I can’t get over the number of stars, and I can’t articulate the vastness or the beauty of that sky, or how mysterious and contradictory it was, or how hard I tried to find something there to grasp. There were moments when I felt like it was mocking my existence and showing me how insignificant I am. Then there were moments when I would listen to the chirping bugs, feel the people on either side of me, think back to the beautiful waterfall, listen to the wind in the trees, smell the clean night air, think of home and the people I love, and I would feel that I am part of all of this, part of something, and that while the sky can look at me and make me feel small, I can look back at the sky and realize I feel small — and that’s not nothing. We laid on the walkway for an hour and a half just gazing, and even saw seven shooting stars (seven!). I can’t get over the number of stars. It was a powerful experience, and I can never forget that sky.

The next morning was our departure, but we didn’t leave before doing a bit more exploring. Kristin headed out on some trails around the lodge, and Mark and I kayaked to a smaller waterfall set off the river. The kayaking itself was an adventure, as I don’t particularly enjoy it, and both Mark and I were pretty bad at it, and our kayak kept wanting to steer towards the shore, so any time we got a good pace going, we’d have to stop and steer our vessel and start back up again. It took us a while to get there, but the waterfall was another beauty, taller and with less water than the other, so it was more fun to climb around than to actually spend time in the water. It was also more secluded, being inside the jungle, so it sort of felt like our own little world there. We managed to climb pretty high, scrambling around rocks and plotting the best course to take. We’d hoped to reach the opening at the top, but about halfway up the rocks became too steeply tilted and far apart and hard to grip. So we acknowledged nature as our superior, made our way back down and kayaked home in time for a shower and lunch before the boat took us back to the bridge from whence we came so we could catch our bus back to Phnom Penh.

We opted for a bus home instead of a taxi because it was cheaper ($7 a ticket), and because we were in no real hurry to get back to the city. It was a nice bus as far as Cambodian standards go, but it was a little cramped, and child a few seats up vomited (I can’t escape vomiting here), and it did take longer to get home. We also managed to arrive in the city right when everyone else was arriving, so it took an excruciating hour and a half to crawl through the streets of Phnom Penh, battling vacation traffic. But we finally made it home, grabbed some dinner, and went our separate ways to prepare for the work week. It was a weekend well-spent, and if anyone reading this is ever able to make it to Cambodia, I would definitely suggest making time for a stop in Koh Kong. I hope to visit again, and I also hope to slowly but surely post more pictures. It will happen. Someday it will happen, when the internet allows. There are a few more below.

In the meantime, I want to thank everyone who’s been posting messages and sending emails. It means a lot to me that all of you are thinking of me and that I have your love and support. Forgive me if I don’t respond right away, or at all. It’s a very busy life here, and it’s sometimes hard to find the time to sit and compose different responses to everyone, so I’m trying to just update everybody collectively here. But I am most certainly getting your messages, and I do really appreciate them.

Also, lots of you have been asking me what I’d like in a care package. I honestly can’t think of much to tell you, except for peanut butter and perhaps chocolate, both of which are quite expensive here. Cereal also is expensive, and another thing I miss (Rice/Cinammon Chex, Life, Cheerios). I’d also love some disinfectant wipes (like Lysol or Clorox or something) to do some quick cleanups in the kitchen and bathroom without having to drag out a bucket and sponge (wipes are a luxury that aren’t present here). I could also use some coloring/activity books appropriate for kindergarten-aged kids. Animal pictures, little mazes or matching games, and other activities that don’t require knowledge of English. Just pictures they can interact with in some way. Perhaps some shaving cream, if it doesn’t make things too heavy. And some Kraft parmesan cheese. And a Chipotle burrito, if you can manage it.

Thank you again for your love and your interest in my experience here. It makes it all the better for me! I’ll update more soon, as I’ve a lot to tell you about my school and my kids (never thought I’d ever say “my kids”). Until next time, all my love!

: Our guide saw a giant earthworm crawling along, and it was followed by a horde of ants that chased it, swarmed it, pinched it apart, and carried it off. Oh, Nature, you two-faced wench!