Muang Ngoi, Laos
What can I say? I’ve been in Phnom Penh for a week. I started writing this when I was in Battambang, Cambodia, where I rode the bamboo train (and screamed with glee like a tiny child the entire way), biked along the riverside in the rain and smiled so much along the way that my face hurt, rode in the Original Batman Tuk Tuk, was told local legends over beers on a mountain top, and had songs about my home town sung to me in the streets.
It was a quiet, sleepy town, and it gave me time to miss the group of friends that I travelled with through Laos all the way down to Siem Reap, Cambodia. I miss Antman, Daniel, Rob, and Ben. We split up a few weeks ago, but I’m already missing being teased for the way I pronounce the word herbs, too many wine carafes in Luang Prabang, too many draft beers on Pub Street, ziplines and rocket festivals in Vang Vieng, the infamous pizza night, and the perfect day of walking (and walking and walking) to find the waterfall, eating buffalo soup, and swimming in a cave.
Today I leave for a homestay in a small village somewhere in the south of Cambodia, but my heart is still swinging in a hammock overlooking the Nam Ou River and watching the mists swirl around the karst mountains, in the far north of Laos.