Exeunt, Pursued by Ants

I neglected to mention that Siem Reap, the city closest to the Angkor Wat temples, means "Siam Defeated." Siam, of course, was the previous name for Thailand and Siem Reap was the site of a famous Cambodian victory in one conflict or another.

It's funny to me that the name stuck and that Thailand has to use it all the time on airlines and in tourist packages, etc. It would be like if there were a town in Michigan called Chicago Sucks.

It was my last day in Cambodia, the bus to Ho Chi Minh City was scheduled to leave in the early afternoon. I figured I'd grab a coffee and catch up on things back home. Maybe there was news on the job front.

I realized those ramen noodles I ate last night were my Thanksgiving dinner! Holiday in Cambodia.

Dodged the tuk tuk drivers and hit the coffee place with no trouble. That ridiculous "Western" coffee place.

Took my drink and a muffin back upstairs. Those stairs! That padlock! The scramble over the lobby motorcycle! Fired up the machine and disappeared into a job search for a while. The afternoon music from the hotel next store made a fine soundtrack.

I haven't had my usual relationship with music on this trip. Ordinarily I end up with a little soundtrack of songs I listen to and forever remind me of the vacation. Whenever I hear Future Islands, I can see myself walking in Croatia for example.

The job stuff was, as job stuff is, depressing with little bursts of "I could do that!" mixed with "Hey, what if!?" and "I'm perfect for it, but they'll probably hire their cousin!" and "Maybe I'll just move to a mountain in Bulgaria. You can have a mountain there for $6 a day."

Reached for the muffin and discovered it was covered with ants. It was like a Charlton Heston movie.

                      

An enormous, throbbing red river flowing up to the ceiling. The shocking efficiency of it. It felt like I'd only set the bag down for a few seconds, but... a few seconds is all they need. When you hear the drums, you're already dead!

I let them have their way and finished applying to the Shots in the Dark. Took a shower (the water was working!) and packed being careful to avoid Muffin Corner. Got everything into my little packs and gave them as much time as possible to gather their crumbs. Then I had to throw it away.

I try to be neat with these airbnbs, I strip the bed, etc. I put insect-covered muffins in the waste bin.

Waved farewell to the relocated scavengers and locked up. I probably should have taken two trips to navigate these crazy stairs, but I didn't want to ever have to climb them again, so I made a daring escape with everything on me.

Barely pulled it off.

Lim had agreed to meet me at this time, but he also didn't speak English very well, so... he wasn't there. But it's not like I didn't have ten more dudes sleeping in the alley and ready to take me anywhere I wanted to go.

Some rando took me to the station with no trouble. I had my ticket stubs from yesterday to prove I'd been to all the genocide museums in case he wanted to stop by there first.

I was hungry, since nature stole my breakfast, but it was time to board the bus. I met a nice Mancunian lady. She'd been in Asia for two months. I asked if she were a student, and she was like, "Nope, I live with my parents and I've just saved up my paychecks for ten years. I've been planning this all my life."

How about that. A lot of my single female friends back home tell me the wish they could travel but they have nobody to go with and it's "not safe" for a woman to travel by herself. Everyone's different, of course, but I always see tons of solo chicks on these trips. Usually Australian, German, or English.

Ride was the by now familiar countryside. Cows, farms, dirt villages. I finished Tar Baby and started in on Dog Days by Gunther Grass. I figured I'd never finish it, but I'd give it a go. I also tried to make up for lost time with music, but it was too weird to see people digging for yams in the dust while "Don't Pull Your Love Out On Me, Baby" played in my headphones.

We stopped at a gas station and I bought some fruit. A gang of runny-nosed kids swarmed around saying "mah nay, mah nay." It made me incredibly sad. Some of my earliest memories are of tv commercials for donations for starving Cambodian children.

They were usually on PBS, so I'd see sad, skinny kids my own age and wonder what was up. Then a cartoon would come on. In the 80s, the Cambodians were replaced with Ethiopians. So, here were the grandchildren of the children I had seen when I was a boy.

I got back on the bus filled with sad, dark thoughts about all the fat, happy babies in my facebook feed. All my wealthy coworkers and the dogs they buy from breeders and all the breeding they themselves have done.

Everybody had their visas and papers and passports in order. Different countries have different relationships, so some folks sailed through with no trouble and some got the stink eye and some angry stamps.

A nice lady from the Philippines gave me some candy she said she could only get when she traveled. It tasted like a garlic Starburst, it tasted like a prank advertised in the back of an old comic book. You say you can only find it when you travel? They've banned it back at home have they? I thanked her.

I didn't ask for another, but I made myself laugh by calling it a Manila Wafer.

Ho Cho Minh City, which everyone still calls Saigon, was an interesting contrast to everywhere else I'd been. It seemed larger and more spread out then Hanoi. There were still motorbikes as far as the eye can see, but wider streets and less living-room activity on the sidewalks. Also, huge neon signs and storefronts for familiar companies.

There was an enormous Starbucks, and a Dunkin Donuts, and a Carl's Jr.

Christmas decorations were everywhere. None of your Water or Moon festival here. None of your roadside fish amok.

So, all right, this last leg of the trip was going to be a little more Westernized. A comfortable way to go out, I reckon. I'm sure there's trouble somewhere, though, and I'll find it.

My hosts were a charming Vietnamese family who were giving me the top two floors of their home. I had a large bed and a separate reading room with a kitchen and laundry machines. Decadence!

It was Linh, the host I'd met on airbnb, her parents and her five-year-old daughter. The little girl played "We Wish You a Merry Christmas" on the piano to welcome me. Hilarious.

When she finished, I clapped and she went back to playing with some English/Vietnamese word tiles on the floor. I went up to wash the bus off of myself.

When I unpacked, I realized Stitchy was gone. My little rag buffalo! My mountain-town lesson in fixing things instead of buying new things. Lost or stolen! Maybe he got wrapped up in the sheets when I stripped the bed.

I could add him to the list of careless moments. Alas!

A shame, since I loved him. I hope he ends up in the hands of one of those starvelings from the gas station. Maybe they'll have wild adventures together.

Farewell. Stitchy. I dedicate this blog to thee.