On the road again. I noticed a few days ago after I missed the last bus out of town, booked a dirty room in a small Cambodian hotel (6$ with fan), and was begging the woman behind the counter to let me borrow her cell phone to reserve a shuttle van the next morning, that everything felt different. All the anxiety I had felt for weeks before, trying to get Christmas cards sent and researching bus schedules, nightmares and fried nerves, just evaporates as soon as I find myself on the move again. It’s like a switch just flips off. I have the distinct feeling that I have conditioned myself to take everything in stride, not to worry, not to despair, and this switch is made out of habit. I noticed the same feeling when I put on my loaded pack for my first solo backpack trip this summer-as soon as my pack was on my back and my hiking poles were in hand my back straightened and legs started moving, greedy to cover more ground, trained over time to carry me. It is the same feeling, as my emotions settle in and my trust and optimism carry me. It took a few pinches, but I woke up the next morning, found the correct shuttle outside the door, and realized that here I was, in Cambodia.

The perfect lollipop palm trees in the low flatlands and round little hills that so charmed me two years ago are just the same. This wonderful country of baguettes and sugar cane, boiled snails and noodle shops, mangy dogs and gold painted alters. Barefoot children, beer advertisements, Brahman cattle, houses on stilts and tarps spread with the rice harvest to dry in the sun. It is a beautiful country, fast paced but also carefree, the combination of ever present poverty and the biggest, brightest smiles, a mixture only taken to this extreme in Southeast Asia.

I had been traveling for about 69 hours when my morning shuttle reached the beach where I met my friends for the ferry ride to Koh Ta Kiev and a place called Crusoe Island. The boat ride was unusually rough, wet and bumpy but not dangerous, and we hit the shore within an hour. My friends wanted to show me everything and introduce me to everyone; they had been there for days and weeks already. Ben in particular has a wonderfully easy, appreciative style of travel that I want to transition into. He found a place he liked and stayed-helping behind the bar and greeting people off the ferry everyday in return for a few free beers in the evening. It was a warm welcome and I settled into relaxation quickly. After a few beers and some rounds of rummy I abruptly fell asleep in this little bungalow looking at the ocean:

Looking back I’m grateful for the jetlag because it was only a few hours later, about 1 am, that we were woken by the owner of the place, a wonderful woman named Vanna, in a panic. The boat had pulled its anchor in the rough surf and was smashing against trees and rocks, already listing and beached sideways. About 6 of us were there trying in vain for 3 hours to push the boat out, and when it was clear that was impossible, we scrambled to tie foam and empty gas cans against the roots and trees to serve as bumpers while the boat was thrashed by every incoming wave. We cut down trees and moved rocks, pulled off both engines and the life jackets, anything to make us feel like we had done everything possible. And then there was nothing else we could do until morning when the tide went back out.

After a couple hours of sleep we all woke up and went to check in trepidation. The boat was completely full of water. All our best efforts had not been enough to secure her from the storm and the entire bottom on one side had been ripped open by a huge piece of coral that we had not seen and could not have done anything about.

The owner was sobbing. We thought there was nothing to do but call the Chinese Navy and try to convince them to pull it out to see where it could be towed to the mainland. But one of the long term visitors that hadn’t been out the night before insisted the boat could be moved. We talked around in circles, but eventually with Vanna lending her shoulder and shouting 1, 2, 3, PUSH, miraculously 8 of us were able to swing the stern back out into the water. But that looked just as hopeless.

Until about 10 Khmer (Cambodians) from the fishing village on the other side of the island appeared, followed by visitors who were staying at bungalows down the beach. And much to my amazement over the next couple hours all 34 of us managed to pull the 4+ ton boat out of the water and up into the jungle. We used the “Stonehenge” method which I had jokingly suggested the night before of rolling it along logs. It was amazing.

Out of nowhere Vanna, with a smile, declared it would be made into another bungalow/guesthouse to be rented out. How about that for taking a bad situation and finding the good in it?! While she still needs to buy another boat (and pays someone else to ferry guests everyday), she is all smiles again and to my eyes is a pillar of optimism and strength.

How is that for an exciting welcome? I had not even been in Cambodia for one full day, but adventure found me. The rest of my stay on Crusoe Island was much needed rest and refilling of my tanks. We took a branch cut during the boat scramble to be our Christmas tree. Set on the dock we lovingly covered it with trinkets, found objects and a few ornaments I had brought from CA. We whistled Christmas carols and had a hilarious party with lots of White Russians, cobra whiskey, Polaroids, handstands and face paint. I spent hours reading and napping in hammocks and just generally loving life away from it all with some of my favorite people.

Now I am sitting alone in the airport again, too soon, on my way to Kathmandu. It will take me 2 days to get there but more dear friends will be there to collect me from the airport and take me on a short New Year’s trek. The relaxation was good for me, and now I’m back to work.