Day 1 (04/12): Phnom Penh, Cambodia

Day 1 (04/12)

I'm lying on a firm army fold-able bed (a blessing following three months of sleep on an inflatable mattress which would deflate slowly every night until I was sleeping on the hard floor of my uncle's study, although I'm ever so grateful for how he has helped me out while I was in London) in the living room of my friends' – Anja and Seb's – living room. The sky beyond the pane-less window ever so slowly brightens as the stars fade, and I'm wide awake after only five hours of sleep, tortured by that curse of all long distance travellers – jetlag.

I'm into day two of my 'long way home' trip, home being Australia, and the long way being two months in Southeast Asia. I'm in Phnom Penh and my blasted jetlag-mutilated circadian rhythm means I must lie here and reflect, effectively forcing me to start this blog. Why not.

I'm reflecting on the three-and-a-half years preceding this morning in Phnom Penh. Three-and-a-half years, two cities - one which beguiled me, the other, not so much, two broken relationships, one broken ankle, a handful of jobs, hard lessons, easy lessons.

My whole life as an independent adult living away from home has been spent in Europe, in these last three-and-a-half years; a strange thought, really. It was when I first lived with a partner, first lived by myself, first paid a bill, bought washing-up liquid, toilet paper, read a gas meter.

Not too long ago I decided it was time to return to Australia, and I hope when I look back at this period I'll agree that my tail wasn't curled down between my legs, but wagging happily.

I'm going back, heading home, ending something and starting something new, and I wanted to involve a rite-of-passage of some kind to mark this transition, and what better liminal stage for a young(ish) man than a backpacking trip through Southeast Asia.

So here I am, with flight-induced insomnia, writing this garble.

To travel is to discover that everyone is wrong about other countries. - Aldous Huxley

Travel makes one modest, you see what a tiny place you occupy in this world. - Gustave Flaubert

Sometimes you just have to pee in the sink. - Charles Bukowski

It's early in the morning here, about 6 o'clock, I can only hear a few tuk-tuks and motorbikes - ubiquitous here - cruising down the alley downstairs. Now one bird is starting to sing, someone's cooking breakfast; wish I was having what they are about to tuck into.

What shall I do later today? A tuk tuk ride within the centre of town costs about a dollar, or two. A beer, a dollar. But its all relative, and I'm just a cashed-up westerner.

Maybe I do make people feel small and dumb on purpose. I'm reasonably sure I don't do this on purpose, but just maybe. I have to start working out how I feel, and less about what I think, or should think. It's confusing and counter-productive, and often is the reason for my indecision. The things you think of when wide awake in bed in Cambodia.

The sky through the pane-less window is now bright and blue. Come at me Phnom Penh.