Unedited pages from the travel journals of H.C.B, also referenced as "The Uninvited Guest."
17 January
I've just hopped a skiff that acts as a ferry between Phnom Pehn and Siem Reap. The air is thick and sticky, the bugs are friendly, if not lacking personal space boundaries and I've decided that I like this place. It hasn't been mucked up by silicone, fiber optics and men in tasteless Armani suits.
I haven't learned enough of the language yet to translate the snippets of conversation that keep wafting my way. It's only four of us total, making the morning jaunt. I'm not surprised really. The backpacker's beach was nearly deserted when I got there yesterday afternoon. The remaining residents falling into two categories: the well seasoned and somewhat bitter veteran explorer or the earth loving Birkenstock models with their messy hair and red-ringed eyes. I fit into neither. It's not unusual, as I prefer to avoid stereotypes when in direct relation to both my personal and physical personae. This rule obviously doesn't extend to the aforementioned beach inhabitants.
My only company on the ride (boat crew excluded) is an American, that rarely smiles and even more rarely speaks. She's an unusual mixture of Laura Croft meets G.I Jane, obviously capable of handling her business. Everything about her, from the set of her shoulders, to the diver's watch on her wrist screams "Don't fuck with me, I'm a woman forged into a weapon via my government and I won't blink before breaking you." Hell, she might as well have U. S. ARMY tattooed on her forehead.
She's cute though " nice legs, a little muscular for the prom but there isn't any danger of a limousine appearing to whisk us away. What's the worst that could happen" She could actually break me? Even that could be fun and at least it'd be something new.
The rain season hasn't set in completely. I hope the roads aren't all muck. If they are I'll have to leave the motorcycle and hike to Angor Wat on foot.
Which could have its perks, especially if Wilderness Barbie is headed in the same direction.
17 January
I've just hopped a skiff that acts as a ferry between Phnom Pehn and Siem Reap. The air is thick and sticky, the bugs are friendly, if not lacking personal space boundaries and I've decided that I like this place. It hasn't been mucked up by silicone, fiber optics and men in tasteless Armani suits.
I haven't learned enough of the language yet to translate the snippets of conversation that keep wafting my way. It's only four of us total, making the morning jaunt. I'm not surprised really. The backpacker's beach was nearly deserted when I got there yesterday afternoon. The remaining residents falling into two categories: the well seasoned and somewhat bitter veteran explorer or the earth loving Birkenstock models with their messy hair and red-ringed eyes. I fit into neither. It's not unusual, as I prefer to avoid stereotypes when in direct relation to both my personal and physical personae. This rule obviously doesn't extend to the aforementioned beach inhabitants.
My only company on the ride (boat crew excluded) is an American, that rarely smiles and even more rarely speaks. She's an unusual mixture of Laura Croft meets G.I Jane, obviously capable of handling her business. Everything about her, from the set of her shoulders, to the diver's watch on her wrist screams "Don't fuck with me, I'm a woman forged into a weapon via my government and I won't blink before breaking you." Hell, she might as well have U. S. ARMY tattooed on her forehead.
She's cute though " nice legs, a little muscular for the prom but there isn't any danger of a limousine appearing to whisk us away. What's the worst that could happen" She could actually break me? Even that could be fun and at least it'd be something new.
The rain season hasn't set in completely. I hope the roads aren't all muck. If they are I'll have to leave the motorcycle and hike to Angor Wat on foot.
Which could have its perks, especially if Wilderness Barbie is headed in the same direction.