You might’ve noticed the tumbleweeds tumbling past this place with alarming regularity recently, but I have a new trip booked. Asia here I come!
Tomorrow I’m heading to Vietnam for a week or so, then crossing over into Cambodia for as many days as I’ve been able to eke out of my schedule. It’ll be rushed and hectic, but as long as I don’t get sick, affected by long travel delays, or kidnapped by a Vietnamese pimp after looking at his lady the wrong way, it’ll work out fine. And I have an actual itinerary which doesn’t include any visits to lunchtime sex motels, so I should be safe.
I have a bunch of things I want to see and do and try, but I won’t list them here because they’ll probably change. Travel plans, particularly in poorer countries, and even more particularly during rainy season, have a nasty habit of not going exactly how you expect. The day I spent at a petrol station in the Amazon Rainforest is testament to that.
I think I’m getting older though. The first time I backpacked solo, I had no guidebook, no map, no money, nothing in the way of language skills, and no idea what the hell I was doing. As a result, I missed out on so much. But now I’ve gone too far. I’ve crossed a line. I’ve become a boring, risk-free, normal adult by taking up the offer of the first hostel to pick me up at the airport. They said they’ll have a sign with my name on it at Arrivals. How lame is that? I might as well start wearing a watch and collecting store cards.
Obviously I’m exaggerating – it’ll be a long time before I’m so old I can’t even reach the top shelf in my kitchen. But the point stands. I’m getting older. No shit, I know. So before the arthritis starts creaking in, I better run. Don’t miss me too much, England.