"Perhaps the spirit of Huynh Thuy Le brought you to me," Mr. Sang laughed.

The thought seemed ironic and perhaps a little eerie. My aunt slurped her soup loudly, prompting my french-speaking guide and I to return to our own soup.

"So where's grandma?" I tried to ask slowly but clearly. It had been years since I'd sent my gran into periodic frights with my acrobatics by her side.

Puzzled, my Aunt pointed to a shrine in the house where two pictures of my grandfather and grandmother rested, surrounded by small vases with flowers, and a pot with incense.

"She died years ago, here." My aunt said in carefully worded English. "We can take you to her tomb next weekend."

I plopped my bags on the couch, and suddenly felt very tired.

I wanted to cry, but nothing came out.

The Nigerians had a hard time at customs.

This was one of many things I didn't tell the men before we entered the immigration section, though it is documented in my Let's Go Guide.

People in Asia wish they could be white, but detest dark skin. It's a trend I've noticed, but while I do not wish to label Asians as being racist against black people, it is something I've noticed among my students in China, and the locals.

"Bones", an American I met at Angkor, told me that the locals would love to have Vietnamese prostitutes because their skin is more lighter than the locals. The few Africans I've seen in Cambodia, have received stares and rudeness from the local children.

A sad trend.

I wanted to make my stay in PP focus on the Gecko project, but a week had moved on and I hadn't been able to locate it for some time. I probably spent more time just being a friendly face on the street to the streetkid vendors than I did teaching the kids at the school.

Given that time was not on my side, I decided to move on to Phnom Penh, where a dark history awaited to be known to me. With my Let's Go guide in tow, I took the morning bus and left for Phnom Penh, wondering about Diang, Mila, and the other kids that became my little posse of street urchins.

The tall red-head who introduced herself to me as Marissa came across as a bit disingenuous. We stood in the Angkor Convenience Store talking for what seemed ages...or more accurately, I stood there listening to her talk for what seemed eons.

It was by the time we were making our way back to the Old Market that she was rubbing me the wrong way.

"Oh, you bought water?" She commented. "They give that to me for free at my hotel."

Sandwiched between the two Italians, the moped sped towards Poipet furiously, in our attempt to visit the Sangkheun Centre for Children.

The only casualties on the ride there was my cap, and the pulling of my left butt cheek as I strained to keep my legs from grating against pavement by pulling them up a few inches from the ground.

I wish I'd taken the other moped.

I have managed to keep my average costs to $30USD per day so far, and it isn't hard if you try to live like the locals.

I got up today and avoided the foreigner circuit, to eat at the local stalls where fresh Khmer cuisine served in poor-man's bowls with aluminum spoons. I've had lovely fried noodles, pork slices, and cucumbers.

Wild eyed at the Asian foreigner sitting among them, I greeted my hosts with smiles, and received them in return.

"We may never, never meet again
On on the bumpy road to love.
Still I'll always, always keep the memory of..."

I sang this as the tuk-tuk took me up to Banteay Srei and the place of a thousand lingas.

Veronika and Ellie looked at me as we hit another pothole, and the "bumpy" road I just sang about hit home. With Ellie in the middle, her partner and I on either side, it was we two that had our asses bruised by the metal bars at the edge of the tuk tuk frame.

It was a hot walk from the bus terminal.

Nairi and Drew, kiwis I'd met on the bus, followed me as I took the lead through the hot streets of Aranyaprathet, the last small town before heading into Cambodia.

As we navigated our way to the clocktower, I wondered to myself whether this would have been a more eventful crossing for me if I invaded Cambodia through Trat-Sihanoukville.

Given the weighty dolour I've had since getting back into travel mode, I decided to take it easy and go the expected route.

I was virtually silent while Drew and Nairi wondered aloud how and who to ask directions. It wasn't until my eyes caught sight of the Aran Guest House that I spoke my first words since the bus.

"What kind of room do you want?" The receptionist smiled. We must have been the first foreigners she'd seen all day.

"One double, and one single." Drew answered.

"Double for you two?" She pointed to Drew and Nairi, who nodded emphatically. "And you," she pointed at me, "single?"

"Yes," I answered.

"Looking for girlfriend?"

"No."

Marlene stooped over when she saw I was awake. With backpack on her back, she looked awkward, staring at me for the uncomfortable minute as I'd wished her a good journey.

Not knowing whether I was supposed to give the customary european peck on the cheek, I just lay there in my bottom bunk, and smiled as she repeated her farewell, and asked me to say farewell to Marion on her behalf.

Then she left.