Surviving the World's Biggest Water Fight, an American Cult in Cambodia, and My First Few Days in VIetnam.

I’m not going to lie—after more than two weeks of solitude and introspection, it was really nice to be social and let loose a little.  Although while playing the “sensible” adult, in my last entry, lambasting Khosan Road’s interpretation of Songkran, it was really a lot of fun.  Picture several thousand people crammed into a crazy network of nonsensical streets in an area about the size of a football stadium.  All participating in a giant water fight. It was chaos. It was refreshing. It was lovely.

Never in my life have I been able to shoot total strangers in the face with ice cold water with total impunity. Of course, I got as good as I gave, from water guns, buckets and other assorted apparatti, but that was part of the fun.  It was the most pure enjoyment, chemically induced or otherwise, that I have had in years. For a few hours, I felt like a kid again. And I never would have done it on my own. So, thanks to Heejay for enjoying the festivities with me. 

After my trip to Thailand in 2011, I never intended to return to Bangkok, much less Khosan road, but I’m actually glad I did...although after four days, I was excited to get out of Bangkok, and indeed, Thailand.  I actually didn’t know that Siem Reap had an airport three weeks ago. But indeed it does, and after a short flight of about an hour, I was there.  Like Bangkok, I never intended to return to Siem Reap, but all in all I had a good time there too. 

It was dark when I arrived and it took a little while to get my visa after landing. The tuk-tuk driver taking me into town thought I wouldn’t be able to get a room because of the New Year’s celebrations—to which I replied that I was going to have to. I don’t think he understood. 

The driver let me off on Watbo Road, where the cheap hotels lined both sides. After checking a dozen hotels or so, I settled on a room with two double beds, which, I would have to vacate by six-forty in the morning—for fifteen US dollars. Ouch!

The early check out time was fine, as I would have to be at the pick-up spot at seven-forty-five, but the goddamn receptionist ended up giving me why wake-up “call” (he actually had to knock on the door as there was no phone) at five-forty-five. Not having a watch, I didn’t notice the time until I had returned the key.

No matter—I was able to find the meeting place in short order, and before I knew it I was loaded into a tuk-tuk, along with some twenty others, on my way to Hariharalaya—a yoga and meditation retreat  near a farming village, just outside of Siem Reap.

I would like to say that I was surprised that ninety-per cent of those attending the retreat were women, and that of those seventy-five per cent were in their early twenties...but I really wasn’t. I had hoped that I would be among a group of serious-minded practitioners, driven by the common goal of cutting through delusion to get a taste of sweet, sweet sit-chat-ananda, but alas, it was not to be. 

On the plus side, the entire retreat center (compound?) was very nice.  All of the buildings were made out of wood and bamboo, with grass roofs. The beds were super comfortable, there were a games room, cinema, and reading room, and even a small pool in addition to the core buildings. 

We were free to wander around in bare feet as the paths from one building to another were made of soft sand. Such wanderings were shaded by banana, mango and coconut trees. The fruits of which were included in our delicious vegan meals.

Hariharalaya was a nice resort to relax, and get healthy. It’s perfect if you want to detox and learn the fundamentals of hatha yoga and samatha meditation.  I’m happy I had the experience for the health benefits.  But as I said, it’s not the sort of place for more serious seekers. 

Resident wise-guy and founder of the retreat center, Joel, had been walking the spiritual path for some time, though, and indeed appeared to have some significant insight. Unfortunately, the first (and last) dharma talk of his I attended was dreadfully bad.

Despite the lack of profound spiritual insight that I hoped to gained, it was a nice experience...except for getting sick on the third day. I think it was from the ice I put in my drinking water.

In the end, I’m not sure it was worth the money it I spent on the retreat plus the extra flight and visa for Cambodia, since the USD is so much stronger than the CAD at the moment. But if I had to get sick anywhere, I suppose I was lucky I got sick there! 

Now I’m in Vietnam, where it’s a little cooler, a little rainier and a little cheaper. Food is really cheap (usually three to five dollars per meal), and beer is even cheaper at less than a dollar for a bottle of the local draught. 

I’ve met up with my old pal Simon, from my Malaysian adventure, and his friend Oevind. We picked up motorcycles in Hoh Chi Minh city and along with a couple Aussies, we’ve begun the long journey to Hanoi. I’m still coughing up phlegm, but am more or less in normal health.

At the moment, I’m sitting in a hammock in Cat Tien national park getting eaten alive by mosquitos. Screw Africa, send the Malaria vaccine here! 

We head out early tomorrow, so I’m afraid this is where my story ends for today.  These little reports of mine may continue to be farther in between for a while, but don’t worry! I’ll keep writing as long as I’m on the road, and I’ll try to take some more pretty pictures for you all while I’m at it.

Until next time, where I’ll be coming at you from...