April 30, 2011
Work. Yes, "work". I'd heard of such a thing; a dustball of recognition rolled out from the little-used corner of my brain, as I remembered something involving payment for hours spent and polyester-wool blend trousers. I was sitting with my back to a coconut palm, when I decided to circumnavigate the globe to find out more about this adventure called "work".
As my tan peeled from my bones, my iron mindlessly pressed uniform collars into perfect points, and snow accumulated on April flowers, it dawned on me that this "work" thing was massively overrated. To paraphrase: work sucks, so I went back to Cambodia. Though I generally dislike feeling at home when traveling abroad, Phnom Penh seems to have settled in my blood, so here I am again. With Sander already diving his way through Indonesia in the company of some new friends, the purpose of my stop-over in Cambodia is to purchase a tuk-tuk. Yes, purchase a tuk-tuk. Additionally, Ben had admitted to hemming his own clothes, which, if you'd seen his stitching, was reason enough to come back. A joke tossed out over a round table stacked with empty pint glasses had originally given birth to the idea: Sander and I would buy a tuk-tuk in Cambodia, import it to Vietnam, and traverse the country in quirky and practical style, picking up passengers as we please along the way. Down the road, we could be the stars of our own show: "Pimp My Tuk-Tuk". I was already planning my outfits. This is how a backpack's worth of dirty lady-clothes and threadbare paperbacks have come to find their home on every available surface in Ben's bachelor apartment. A fellow CouchSurfer and an ever gracious host, he is walking around picking up stray hairpins while we brainstorm practical ways to get the tuk-tuk safely over a border.
As soon as I get over my jetlag and the scorching heat subsides a little, I will be ready to continue the adventure ....
Slaughter.
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