Everything happens in the between space...

Everything happens in the between space...

We bus from Phnom Penh to Battambang. And then a boat to Siem Reap.

The bus has a small TV which plays and blasts a Mr. Bean movie in Cambodian. IPod, please. The Soundtrack mix. It has a lot of great thinking--Cat Stevens/Blur--type music. The earth is so green here--I realize now where Crayola came up with that color , Jungle Green. It was my favorite color... and here it is, all around me, big puffy white clouds in the blue sky.

I made this mix for Dan before we met up in December. He mentioned during one of our enormous gChats how certain songs made him feel like he was wandering through a movie--and life was the movie. I even wrote him a little "movie" to go along with the songs. I remember testing the mix out on frozen Lake Minnetonka, dancing with my shadow in the sun at Christmas. Wondering what in the world I was thinking going to see this boy I met three years ago for only three days. Was I crazy for feeling like we had a connection based on Facebook messages and IM-ing and the occasional drunk dial? And what ever would he think of this very silly movie I wrote for him?

We pass houses that look like haystacks and haystacks that look like houses. I watch this jungle green and brilliant blue and cotton white world pass by and am glad I made this mix.

The next day, we board a "fast" boat. "Such an unlikely cast of characters..." I say to Betsy. There is one German girl. A monk. A man with a huge bag of lychees. A man in the Cambodian army. At least five other Cambodians--all dressed in long sleeves and pants...it makes me hot just looking at them. We have no idea how long this trip will take.

It's impossible to describe this journey down the long narrow brown river. There are houses standing on long skinny rickety stilts. They appear to be in the middle of nowhere. Children splash in the water and run the banks to wave to us. People push boats so stuffed with stuff, it's hard to believe they are still afloat. And there are the parts so narrow that trees and reeds pop through the sides and we have to duck.

After nearly 4 hours we have a pit stop. We are starved. Buy some crackers and Betsy purchases a lychee flavored Fanta. It's disgusting. There is loud funny music blasting from somewhere and all around us little houses--more like rooms-- literally float on the water. People hang out in them, watch us pass, swing in little hammocks. Betsy and I look at each other in disbelief--we've never seen anything like this.

My iPod dies and I write a letter to Laura Lee. (warning LL, spoiler)It's so humbling to see how silly our extravagance is--and yet....the more I travel, the more I just appreciate all of those silly things we can afford to have--and to have all of it to go back to....I think I am feeling now more than ever--knowing that good things are ahead--and big challenges--but feeling content to wait--in knowing that I'll never ever be here--at this moment--again...

And so...over 6 hours later...we arrive. We don't know his name yet, but Van, (to be our Tuk Tuk driver for the next three days) finds us and we snag the last room in this fantastic place. On a walk we wander in Hotel Le Paix (peace), the fanciest hotel in town. It's heaven. We sit on a bed by glassy pool with a twisty tree growing out of the middle. Champagne and a fruity cocktail. Worlds away just a few hours later. We talk about boys. (we always talk about boys). We talk about our families. We giggle over memories.

"I will buy you a bottle of wine for your birthday!" says Betsy. And, suddenly, I've had the best birthday ever, with chilly white wine, a tiny sunburn, in a place far too fancy for me, and my best friend.