Too many details, I know

Last night in Kuala Lumpur. I love this city. I could live here. June 5^th, 2018

Day 6 in Kuala. Day 1 in Sihanoukville. Last day in Malaysia. First day in Cambodia.

The next morning this guy who brought us from the airport, took us back. He was so friendly. He told us that when we went to visit my friend the day before, we were a short distance from the sea shore. If only we had known. Such a friendly guy, he invited us to breakfast. That just doesn’t happen in the U.S.

We went through the middle steps of The Process of flying internationally. We had already explored ideas. Done some research. Bought plane tickets and the hotel. Packed up. Ordered a cab, arrived at the airport. Then it was figuring out where to go in the airport. So many options. Then we checked in a got the boarding passes. Then we had options of X, Y and Z. Except we were in gate P. At least the airport was in English. Follow Y to get to gate P and Q. It’s like a maze when the airport is big enough. Put my luggage through a simple scanner machine. Then walk some, and have an airline person weigh my carry-on luggage. Then go through more security where I have to pull out my computer and my liquids. Then immigrations. Then find our gate. Then wait. Then board, along with 100 other people trying to get through the narrow aisle of the plane, and contort into the small seats. Take off and landing are their own mini miracles every time. And don’t get me started on the logistical ordeal of having to use to the toilet on the plane. This flight was really weird because we had aisle seats. So I couldn’t see it happen, the whole flight was not visible to me. It’s like closing my eyes and all of a sudden I’m in Cambodia.

Then it’s 100 people trying to get off the plane, and it’s the place where we have to climb down stairs off the plane. The humidity sits on my skin, a tangible layer of pressure that I can feel all over. It’s a good thing I like humidity. Then it was figuring out which line to get in. We get in one line for immigrations, then go to the line for visas. Except we already have our visas. So we go back to the other line. Then change lines again. The wait is long, but we are not in a rush. The guy has to stamp three things with three stamps and then sign and date it. Then customs. Then get another cab.

Right from the parking lot of the airport I can tell I’m not in Kansas anymore. I’m not in Kuala anymore. There is a very rough feel to Sihanoukaville. As soon as the pastures end the garbage starts. This place is very run down. It’s crazy. There are not many sidewalks, and not much traffic. It’s nuts. I don’t know how these people can live, work and play in the trashed neighborhoods. Just walk by it, through it every day. I was a bit shell shocked. It was like a house after a big New Year’s Eve party and no one cleaned up at all.

Then we got to our hotel we had picked out of many on the Agoda website. Apparently all of the pictures were at least five years old. The landscaping needed some serious help, but I was distracted by a gorgeous orchid looking flower that had fallen off of a tree in the open lobby. The waiting area had big chairs and a pool table. But it was dirty and the chairs were all stained. Oh boy. We had to wait a few minutes they were still cleaning the room. I was losing hope fast. But the room was big, with a nice balcony and a decent bathroom. It was a contrast from the last place that was about art and busy walls. This room has zero pictures on the wall. But the air conditioning works! Over all I was disheartened. Then we went for a walk. I thought it was for getting some food, but it turned into a long hot walk on non-existent sidewalks. Our little circle turned into a big uninspiring one, and when I finally got back to our room I was grumpy and wiped out. Feeling that bad is fixable though, put my feet up, cool down, hydrate – and the world is a better place. Just sitting still felt good. Then we wandered out for some dinner. The guy at the front desk was asleep in a chair with his bare feet up. I wish I had a job where I could do that.

Dinner was basically normal, we found a place that looked like it would be halfway decent. So I guess I will survive. Plus there is a big deep pool that I can’t wait to dive into as soon as possible.

Oh, and I was almost complimented by the taxi driver. He told my husband that he was a lucky man, because the driver could tell that I was very pretty when I was younger. It’s going to be a long 6 days.

Day 2 and I stayed up late again.

Day 3 is Friday. Up late. Slept in. Breakfast was lovely again at 8am. Went to pick up our Vietnam visas, no problems. Then asked a tuk tuk driver is there was a mall anywhere. I wanted a bathroom, and some air conditioning. He said sure, I will take you to the market, and he showed me on a map. I said ok, so it is inside, not outside? He nodded. Off we go. This place is nuts. There are zero rules on who goes on what side of the road. Almost zero marked lanes. Zero traffic lights. It’s one mega mighty game of playing Chicken (that’s what we called it when we were kids, to see who was the bravest), seeing who will back down first.

He drops us off and says he will be back in one hour. This place is not inside, it simply has a cover over it. It looks like it is an entire city block, at least. We venture inside. It was ok at first, similar to the bizarre in Macedonia only a bit more organized. Except it wasn’t store after store, it was stall after stall like one floor of one textile market in Yogyakarta. But it was very run down.  The unfamiliar fruits and vegetables didn’t get to me. My eyes adjusted to the lack of light. The handful of people approaching me and asking for money didn’t get to me. I didn’t have any money on me to give away. The thing that got to me was the meat section. First cartons of crabs of all kinds, then fish of all sorts and smaller sizes, then squid, then shellfish, then shelled things. Then just body parts. The heads of pigs. The feet of chickens. Everything was being butchered right there, too. As in taking the fish and scaling it and cutting it. Taking the dead chicken with no feathers and chopping it up. Small buckets full of guts and glory as animals were being cut up for sale in a reasonable size. The aisles were so small that you had to be careful you didn’t brush up against things.

I had to teach a class on food safety in my last job before traveling. So my students could get their food handler cards and work at restaurants and so on. None of that applied here. At all. Just rows and rows of meat and things left out until someone bought it and carried it home. I am mostly ignored, I think because people don’t speak English. It’s one of those tidal moments. My eyes are as big as dinner plates. I’m trying to absorb what I’m seeing. It’s so hot that I have sweat dripping down my back. I’m waving my Chinese hand fan to keep perspiration from coming down my face. There is no bathroom in sight and my bladder is complaining, but I survive probably because I’m sweating so much. The smell makes me want to quit breathing like a bad habit. I don’t understand anything anyone is saying. And now I realize maybe deep down I’m definitely a vegetarian. These people come here every day and do this? It boggles my mind. I’m getting desperately over-heated and I’ve been here for 20 minutes. The best part about a moment of being overwhelmed is knowing it must end. It will be over at some point, if I just keep going. If I manage to not slip on the icky floor and land on top of a shelf of live shrimp.

We buy some fruit and some nuts and get out of there. The tuk tuk driver says he knows where our hotel is, but he doesn’t. Once we figure this out, I’m not any closer to a bathroom, not in this part of town. The breeze is divine, but the bumpy bad roads don’t help my condition any. The beauty of the bad moments is how incredibly sweet they make the good moments. I am back at my hotel. My bladder is finally empty. My bathing suit is on. The big empty pool calls my name. I dive in and it’s so outstanding and refreshing and glorious. The shallow end of the pool is about 5 feet deep, so I can really swim. It’s double the depth and double the size of the last pool. The last pool was on the fifth floor and had some lovely potted plants. This place feels like it’s half in the jungle with exotic trees around it. The flowers on the trees are like orchids, and when one drops it’s like a red gem from above.

I glide through the water and glide past my hardships at the market. There are pockets of warm and cold throughout the beautiful blue water. It makes me think about how you can’t feel color, but the temperatures kind of feel like colors on my skin. Well, if I’m sunburned red like a cooked lobster it sure feels different from being so cold that my fingernail beds turn blue. I swim, I float, I wave at Ron who is still on the balcony of our room. The world is a better place. I can truly appreciate the contrasts of the day. Ron joins me in the pool and I laugh and swim and try to stick to the shady side of the pool to avoid feeling red.

We went up to the room and I looked at the clock, it was 2:14pm in Cambodia. By 2:54pm the blue sky is gone, and dark clouds are blocking the sun. Another crazy contrast. When it’s clear we can see two pieces of the Gulf of Thailand. At one point we couldn’t see past the pool, it was raining so hard. Such a blessing, because it reduced the heat. If we hadn’t gone to the market then swimming in the pool would have been ‘nice’. Since we went to the market, the swim in the pool was super fantastic and was like a natural high.

Now it’s 4pm and still raining. We have to wait for a break to run and get some dinner down the street. There is this place that sells hamburgers! I got the curry last time, but then realized that I’m ready for a hamburger. I’ve had my fair share of curry in the last six weeks. And food that I can’t pronounce, or don’t even recognize. Wish me luck that’s it’s a half way decent hamburger. I guess I will become a vegetarian in baby steps. Maybe get a salad instead of French fries. Do they even have those here? Probably, every other country did. Costa Rica had chicken and rice with French fries. Malaysia had shawarma with French fries.

I got the burger, and it was so good I ate it too fast. With fries. No regrets. It was unusual cheese, but very good.

I am trying to get pictures from my phone to the computer, to the blog, but sometimes I have issues. I'm not waiting to post this part of my trip, as there is still so much trip to catch up on. I will post pictures when I can. These are all the details for my friends who have never been on a plane, and for my Momma, who loves all the details.