Back in the saddle; first day on the road to Cambodia.
25 Jan
Just off the train, 4:30 a.m. Surin, Thailand.
Can’t sleep, too excited to get going. So what do I do? Go. Dropped my saddlebags at the nearest hotel, reserved a room for the evening, and through the moonlaced early morning I peddled my heart out. Flew my way instinctually through town, drawing in towards water, trees, open land. Drawing down the moon.
Eventually, I came across a market. The cool morning air permeated the new purple fleece I was wearing, so in need of some warmth before the sun rises I park and wander around the flourescent light and steam filled canopies that lace the street. An oasis in a traveler’s desert. All kinds of fresh yummy things. Piles and piles of fresh brightly colored fruits, dried roasted meat on sticks, rice noodle sweet treats filled with who knows what, noodles boiling over a wood burning fire. I opted for some cha rawn (hot thai tea with loads of sweetened condensed milk) and a sort of delicious fried dough. I sat on a wooden plank amidst dead fish and squids on ice and watched the lady shopkeeper brew my tea and pour it at a perfect angle from two feet up in the air. A spectacular thing to view before the sun is up in the morning.
Cute young thai boys with faux-hawks and black clothing gawk at me; the weird foreigner. The shopkeeper and I get involved in a little small talk, I pay my 10 baht bill, and run out from under the awning to see a lit sky. Not lit, like fire alight. But lit like glow in the dark paint. The sun hasn’t risen over the mountains just yet but the sky is almost blinding me with it’s brilliance.
And I wrote: “I’m alive. I’m feeling things that pulse through my veins and keep me buzzing. I’m so grateful for this chance at life. I really am. No joke.”
I have more to tell, more to write, more to jumble up and confuse the hell out of any reader. But today I’m going to wait. I’m going to get a massage. A cambodian massage. Why? Because my lovely ever-thoughtful family sent me tons of birthday and christmas money… without even realizing that YES I CAN use my dollars in Cambodia! And massages are only 4$!
After this said massage I am going to hang out with some disabled Cambodian people. I haven’t really met them yet, but I went to a party at their house last night. The dancing was rediculous; the choice of music even more so. I had a ball, they folks were great dancers… full of so much energy.
Most of the people who live there are disabled from UXOs or bombs. During the Vietnam war America thought a lot of the communists were hiding in Cambodia (and Laos… and Vietnam…) So we dropped a bunch of bombs. But lots didn’t go off. And now they’re know as UneXploded Ordinances (UXOs.) Many people have gotten blown up and killed since then, which they say isn’t so bad. But they say getting blown up and surviving is way worse. Khmer people believe if something bad happens to you in this life, it’s because you were really bad in your previous life. They believe you deserve it. Even if you’re a baby with one arm. Even if you develop polio. Even if you stepped on a bomb the American’s dropped and you are now a double amputee. They are shunned from the community and left to beg on the dirty streets. There are some NGOs here to help these bomb survivors get their lives back into some sort of order. They teach them English and different skills. Some dance and sing. Some play music. Some can make stuff. They’re just real people under unfortunate circumstances. It’s not fair
And the worst part? All the bomb clearing companies who are trying to help are from: Japan, France, Korea, England, etc… (don’t you think the people who made the mess should clean it up? But they don’t.)
I’m mad at America. I’m mad about all that.
But I’ll do what I can do. We all do. I want to save everyone sometimes. Don’t we all?
I can’t forget to remember to help myself first.
I’m safe by the way! No worries! I’m happy and healthy! I’ll write the bike journey stuff soon. Lovelalalovelove you!
MRumianowski
You are a pleasure to listen to. Please add me to your list. I wish you well and more than luck with saving everyone. You’re beautiful!
Melis, I love you. I love reading about your travels…it makes me feel like I’m right there with you and sometimes it feels like you and I are sitting on the couch under a blanket and drinking some cheap wine and I’m listening to you tell me these stories. but until that can happen again I’m just living vicariously!!
xoxo miss you!
My Lissa, so beautiful ( and sunburnt), so full of life and joy, so willing to help everyone you meet. You’re amazing. Just remember to take care of yourself … and wear sunscreen. Love you.