The morning was drizzly, so I stayed in bed until checkout. It was so soft and warm, I watched the rain fall down through the open door of my hut. I finally had my first hot shower after two weeks of crazy travelling. Imagine that. I had completely forgotten how nice that felt.
At around 11,I marched back to town, giving myself at least two more blisters on each foot from the new flip flops. The laundry place last another pair of my socks and nothing was dry at all. They probably just left everything in the rain that morning. They gave me $1.25 back for my troubles. I went and spent it on lunch across the street, glowering at them the whole time.
The bus to Phnom Penh left at 1 and it was full of really loud people, having a grand old time for six hours of race car speed driving. At one point, we stopped for food and my new rambunctious friends gave me some sort of fish ball snack. I immediately developed hives on my chin and throat and quickly downed yet another anti-histamine, afraid my throat would start to close up any second. It helped a lot anyway, and soon I was drifting off to sleep.
When we arrived back in town, I headed straight for Friends restaurant, another tourism training school. It was packed, so I sat down to wait for a table. An older Danish gentleman named Bill got behind me in line. I invited him to share a table and we chatted while waiting for my couchsurfing host to show up. Turns out he had been messaging me trying to find out if I was still there, I assumed he was on his way so I put my iPod away. He never cam, so Bill and I went for beers at the Correspondent's Club. I drank way too many, thinking it was my turn to pay, but while I was in the washroom, he paid for it all, in addition to dinner. The second awesome Dane I've met.
Anyway, it was really nice to sit at the same balcony as the brave reporters of the past did. I left feeling brokenhearted at the impact recent innovations have made on the quality of journalism today. There's just never going to be any more days like those decades before the internet ever again. We have seen the death of truth and integrity int he news and I believe it is irretrievable. We can never go back to the past, and the way forward looks bleak.
I finished my last stout and gave Bill some chopsticks as a thank you for his generosity. Maybe I'll see him in Tuscany again someday. I forgot to mention he is a successful wine importer. Someone very helpful to know, don't you think?
Later, I somehow found a hostel that was still open for $7 and I slept straight through until morning.