How I Got to Phnom Penh

My sejour in the United States involved some travel. Idaho, home for Christmas, DC and back (twice), Atlanta, Baltimore, Philadelphia... It was altogether quite easy. I learned to travel in carry-ons, liquids in one-quart zip-lock, and that a drivers permit is a perfectly acceptable form of ID. Traveling domestically is easy, so I learned. And with an Ipod and some good new music, it's even easier.

Alas though, those days are over. I will miss being charged for food, the stewardesses unkind words, and the TSA people telling me to throw out my toothpaste. I will miss the short flights where five hours is suddenly epic and 20 minutes is normal. I will miss seat-mates who wear deodorant and the feeling of racially integrating because everyone else looks just like me. Traveling in America is easy.

Because for now, I'm in Asia. Flying out here was 20 minutes, 14 hours, and 5 hours. Korean Air was nice to me, except for the lousy food, and quite amusing to me was the stewardess who didn't know enough English to tell me to turn off my Ipod. I found myself wandering the terminals of Dulles and Seoul with the rest of the international travelers, me in my Keens, the Asian businessmen in suits, and knew I was not among the ranks of American travelers off to see family and friends. I saw "the missionaries;" a stereotype applied to those who aren't missionaries but carry generic backpacks, wear sneakers and shorts and express a look of complete exhaustion. I bet I even looked like one. Traveling internationally isn't always easy. More then anything else, it's just utterly completely and inexplicably exhausting. 

I had no problems getting to Phnom Penh. My problems lie in the fact, that I am chronically tired. Jet-lag for 11 time zones is terrible which I have only just begun to discover. Yet at the end of the day, I can comfort myself in the knowledge that I won't have to make that trip again for many moons. Any local travel, will be on the back of moto, or in a smelly bus.