Rabbit In A Coma

The rabbit lays on the floor and doesn't move. It's not dead. Sometimes there's a small twitch in its ears or legs. Its heart beats peacefully. The rabbit is in a coma.

*

It doesn't look that way but in my mind I'm searching, yearning, looking for something all the time. By default, I'm pretty stressed-out. I can't sleep long. I can't stay in one place long. I need a good-structured schedule. I cannot fall behind. Need to keep moving, need to be more productive, need to find the answers to all the unknown questions. Somehow, somewhere - oh, if I was just able to figure it all out - it must be possible to complete the puzzle; to reach somewhere further than this meager existence. It's always been like this. That peculiar feeling, a grasp of something more... but not quiet clever enough to even have the vaguest clue what is that I'm after. Sometimes I'll relax due to natural causes. These times are rare and short. Pretty soon I turn into a chased-down rabbit again. I tried working-out 5 times a week and taking poker dead-serious. Hiking helps until I get back home. Most the time I'm balancing on a thin edge (but I hide it well). Always the chased rabbit, never the hunter. Stuck forever in a sketchy scene, a lousy bad dream. Something's going on but I never have a clue. Waking up too early but, nevertheless, always too late. It doesn't matter where I'm or what I'm doing. Belgium, India, previous trips to Cambodia… Forever running away from my own shadow, never content, always convinced that there's something more just behind the next bend in the road. If I could do everything right just this once…
That's how I struggle through my days. At least, it was until a few days ago. In my little room in Snooky, I'm living the life like I'm used to: books, movies, online poker, not going out so much, staying on my own most of the time. But something is different. I don't feel like running away. No bad dreams. No fear or pointless stress. I tend to sleep long, sober and well. The restlessness has seized (for now). Like one little piece of the puzzle clicked in place. It looks like I'll be here for a while. Still I don't know what it is that I hope to find. But it has to be here. Living on my own in Sihanoukville; I'm no longer scared of my own shadow. I wouldn't know where to run away to next. I want to stay. Right here, on my own. For once, I'm no longer a chased rabbit. Not haunted by the usual demons. I can't afford to do nothing indefinitely but this peace of mind is priceless. This is my place. At least, (for now) I'm (almost) sure it is.

*

The rabbit is in a deep sleep. Its heart beats peacefully, its ears and legs twitch occasionally. In its little rabbit-brain it dreams about Happy-Lucky-Little-Rabbit-Land. Sweet dreams in a happy place. But it knows. The rabbit knows. In the end here are only two ways out of here. One's darkness, the other… back on its pointless, restless run. Luckily the end is far away. Let the rabbit sleep. It does no harm. It doesn't bother anyone.

What's So Special About Cambodia?

# Everything Goes - "No Money, No Honey"

Cambodia is the last bastion of freedom. Anything you wish, crave or desire is available at a very reasonable price. Everyone can open a restaurant, start a business, become a teacher or live on a beach for months on modest savings. All it takes is the desire to do it. Yes, there's plenty of drugs and plenty of booze in Cambodia. But it's really not that outrageous as it might look from afar. Maybe drugs are a bit more openly available and drinking heavily a bit more common here than in Europe. It's beside the point, really. It depends more upon the people you hang out with it than the country you're in. Junks and drunks will find ways to get their fix anywhere. Some still see Cambodia as a paradise for sex tourist. It might have been in the nineties; today it's not like that anymore. But don't take my word for it; The Post ran an excellent article about this subject a few weeks ago ("Professional girlfriends: Moving beyond sex work" by Dr Heidi Hoefinger). Feminists, backpackers and other moral-high-ground-goofballs love Sex And The City but cry "Victim!" when they see a Khmer (Cambodian) girl with a barang (white man)... Oh well, when you come with an open-mind and without instant-judgements; Cambodia is a free-spirited, fun-loving country in the sun. Being friendly and respectful is all it takes to get along. Everything goes; even better, everything goes with a smile!


# The Buddha Always Smiles - "Same, Same But Different"

Cambodia is a country of smiles. On average, people are incredibly friendly and laid-back. This is a place (contrary to the European rat race) where being quiet and gentle will get you further than acting like an aggressive, big-mouth macho. Reaching an agreement that's good for everybody is often preferred over gaining maximum personal profit. Even religion is relaxed here. It's the only place in the world where there's room for laughter and jokes during religious ceremonies. Cambodia is nowhere near as dangerous as some people still think it is. Violence against barangs (foreigners) is extremely rare. On the contrary, being surrounded by friendly, smiling people forces you to become more sociable, friendly and laid-back. It's hard to be shy and hide away in a place like this. It's all good; the Buddha always smiles!


# Tomorrow Never Comes - "Next Year? Next Life!"

Cambodia is all about the sweet urgency of now. Satisfaction is usually preferred over working hard to save for a rainy day. Far more than anywhere else, life is about happiness instead of longevity. Smokes are cheap, speeding on a motorbike is the norm, gambling is welcomed. Urgent medical attention or a steady income are hard to find. Worrying about the future only brings headache. Tomorrow's always uncertain. So it's better to dance today!


I rest my case. These are just a bunch of general statements, made by a white dude living the good life in a beachtown. The Kingdom of Cambodia is much, much more than this (both in good and bad ways). The only way to really understand what makes Cambodia unique is to visit the country yourself…

Why not spend your next holiday in Cambodia?

A Place In The sun

Back in Sihanoukville… After two days in a guesthouse on Occheuteal Beach, I moved to a one room apartment in a quiet street. It's a great place with luxury items such as a TV and a hot shower.

Only after I had paid for a month upfront, I discovered a few empty condom wraps and a usb-stick with 4 gig of Japanese porn under the bed. OK, that got me motivated to go buy a broom and cleaning products. The whole first day I spend cleaning and scrubbing all by myself. It felt damn good. I can take care of myself. This is better than that pointless photo-safari of the last few weeks. Cleaning never felt so liberating... It was late afternoon when everything looked spotless and fresh. I lit my first cigarette of the day and listened to an early Springsteen album. Oh yeah, this is my place now!

From my second-floor room I look out over tropical vegetation and the sea in the distance. The landlord is a friendly gamble-happy drunk, children shout "Hello" every time I enter the gate and the neighbors are a typical mix of Sihanoukville characters. (Well, the rent is $100/month so that should keep the worst lowlifes out) So far I've met a middle-aged English man who lives with a Khmer girl, a lady-boy, a tough looking white dude, 2 local girls who work in a nearby karaoke parlor and a gay couple. Right across the street they serve great Khmer meals for a dollar. I'm close enough to the beach to walk there in daytime but just far enough to discourage myself to get out for 'just one beer' late at night. There's a solid lock on my door and the whole building is surrounded by big walls and an iron gate. I think I'll love it here.

The best part is that I did it all by myself. I'm not moving in with some girl. I'm not following directions out of a guide book. This is my place, my choice. I've always wanted to live near the sea. I've always wanted to be free and independent. This is it, my own place in the sun…

This time I want to do things right. Not smoking dope, not drinking too much and making damn sure not to get romantically involved with a local girl. That was sort of the plan from the beginning. India was nothing but a cover. There was no way I could tell the good folks back home that I was returning to Sihanoukville without looking like a junk or a pervert. Maybe I started to believe my own cover story too much in the end.

Anyway, I'm back and I'm doing well. I just had an internet connection installed. All settled, now I've got more than 11 months to figure out a scheme to stay afloat in this town…

I Don't Wanna Be Your Dog

After 11 days on the road, I'm heading to Koh Kong today. Back to the Kingdom after all. Well, everybody knows. That's how it goes. I long intensely for the pure freedom and brutal honesty of Cambodia. It's one of the only places left where dollars are the only documents required, where life is simple, the weather is great and people are friendly.

I had hoped to find some of that freedom out on the road but I was terribly mistaken. Rules and regulations are everywhere these days. There's no escape. Getting a room in a guesthouse in India takes more paperwork than getting married in Cambodia. Smoking and drinking are hideous crimes in too many places. Trying to bring a simple lighter into Delhi airport caused a whole scene. I really don't want to deal with all this nonsense anymore.

And then there's the backpacking/ traveling crowd. All this pressure, all this machismo. All this "you really should go there, visit that, don't miss out on…" or stories like "I only payed a buck, ate dog shit with the locals and sleep only in the dirtiest dorms" I'm getting tired and stressed just by listening to their stories. They are just another pack of dodos. They might cover more distance but dodos nevertheless; just running around in a different kind of rat race.
Not me.
Not anymore.
My own dog and whatnot.
Up to border!

In My Place

The plan worked out in the end. Maybe a little faster than expected but that's alright. I learned a thing or two. I think I found some answers. Now I'm back on Boogie Street. Nine days in India taught me that this is were I want to be.

Walking out of Bangkok airport in the hot evening and taking a metered taxi to Khao San Road was a bliss. The rest of the journey had been quiet hard. I left Pushkar on Monday night. I was suffering from loose bowel movements but with a flight booked and payed there was no way to delay my escape. One motorbike, two taxis, an Indian night bus and a crappy flight took me into Bangkok. That's all that matters now. Sitting in my comfortable room in the Sawasdee Inn, I feel no need to go into details about how it's to travel for about twenty-four hours while struggling with diarrhea. It was pretty hardcore, let's leave it at that…

Last night I dropped my bag in my room, took a long, hot shower, swallowed an Immodium, put on my flip-flops and hit a Khao San street-side bar. Soon I was drinking and chatting with two young Amercians. Somehow meeting people's a piece of cake in South-East Asia. I'm relaxed and somewhat confident here. Talking is easy. I've got plenty to say. Unfortunately, nine days of vegetables and tea left me in pretty bad shape. After my second bottle of Chang I was done. The Americans went to see a ping-pong show. I stumbled back to my room. Happy, bubbly drunk in Bangkok; life can be as easy as you want it to be. I drifted off in a long, deep sleep; dreaming about a talking cow.
Dance, she said.
Dance, I will.

Now I'll stock up on t-shirts and other stuff I don't really need (unlike any other part of the world, I truly love shopping here). Then I'll gently, slowly travel a bit further down south-east until I reach my final destination by the end of the week...

It's great to be back. No return ticket or other obligations anymore. No desire to visit other countries. This time I'm here for the long run. I'm ready to stretch out my humble savings as long as possible. Whatever happens, happens. I'm committed, I'm going all the way. There are no plans or intentions to leave. From here on out I would like to call this part of the world "home".

It's Not You, It's Me

Of course, I'm fully aware that India is a great and wonderful country. My opinion is of no importance at all. I put one word after another for entertainment purposes only.

I'm 30 years old, I have 1.6 friends, my hairline is reclining, I have the social skills of a (non-holy) cow and the personality of an empty can. It's no surprise that I struggle to stay on my feet in this place.

I've looked at the map and I asked around. The only way out of Pushkar is straight into another mega-city. People keep telling me

"Agra is a terrible place but if you've never visited the Taj Mahal you really should go."

or

"Varanassi is crowded, smelly and full of touts. My laptop got stolen and my friend got mugged but since you're in India, you have go."

I find it hard to agree.
Just like a dog chasing its own tail there's only one place I really want to go…

My sincere apologies if I've offended or disappointed anyone. I'm not one of the cool dudes. I just like to tell my little story even though it often makes me look like an ass…

Racist Ravings Of A Formerly Gentle Dude

The first light of morning is coming through the curtains when the deafening noise of the amplified prayers finally stops. Last night, around sunset, the neighbors pushed big speakers into the street. Then they blared loud prayers all night long. The sound is bouncing of the walls of my room. Earplugs jammed in, my head under a pillow I feel like a tortured prisoner in Guantanamo Bay. This was my first night in Pushkar.

It's is supposed to be a quiet, mystic town at a lake. A 'hippie hang-out' as Lonely Planet describes it. No idea what kind of dope they got hold of but, please, get me some. All I see are touts, honking motorbikes, loud prayers and a filthy pool surrounded by cemented steps. Just another swarm, as far as I can see. Only in India they can fuck up a beautiful, natural surrounding this bad. This could be a tranquil oasis in the desert if no one had thought to put the adjective 'holy' in front of 'lake'.

This country takes religion way too serious. No room for humor whatsoever. Can't eat meat here, take of your shoes there, no smoking in this area, no alcohol in that town, etc. A million rules and regulations regarding religion but no respect for other people. They take better care of their cows then of their personal hygiene. India's rude and unfriendly. Never a 'thank you' or 'please'. Always ready to push and invade my personal space.

But, hey, I'm just a shy, little man in a nation of over a billion; so what do I know? One week in India has clearly turned me from an open-minded, peaceful, leftie kind of guy into an angry, raving racist. I'm no longer communicating, beyond the strict necessities, with anyone with a brown skin tone and/or facial hair. When they keep pushing I won't hesitate to deliver an F-bomb infused tirade.

They say India will change you in ways you never thought possible.
I have to agree.

Homesick

The Sarai Rohilla train station in Delhi is swarming with people. It's ten past eight in the morning. I clench a train ticket to Jaipur in my fist but got no clue what to do. Someone points me in the direction of platform 1, by far the busiest of the overcrowded station. I sigh and join the flock.
As soon as the train rolls in, the crowd starts pushing in all directions. I can't figure out witch carriage I should enter. People keep pushing. My heart's pounding, my hands are trembling. I tend to get anxious in groups of more than two. This is not going well. Panic is rising. I want to evaporate. Fuck this country! I could be sitting on a beach but instead I'm swallowed up by a sea of people. Panic is taking over. In my mind I'm screaming and crying but my body is simply moving around according the pressure of the swarm. Maybe I should just let this train go by and return to Paharganj. Flights to Bangkok are cheap from here. But foolish stubbornness forces me to get a hold of myself. I start showing my ticket to the masses. The responses are mixed. Some point me to the front end of the train, others to the back. A lot of people just give me blank stares. More by luck than anything else I finally find the right carriage. Of course, by this time the whole damned thing is completely filled with people, bags, crying kids, suitcases and more people. I squeeze through the crowd only to find out that my numbered seat is taken by about 3.5 Indians. Waving and pointing witch my ticket results in getting a few centimeters of space on the bench. With my big backpack crammed between my legs and holding my small bag in my arms I will remain immobile for the next 5 hours. I'm dying inside. It doesn't take long before the swarm starts smelling. Too many phones play music at max volume, a few people watch loud movies on battered laptops. I can barely breath. It's a slow, painful and extremely unpleasant journey. I hang on by dreaming about the beach. Tired, hungry and dizzy I get of the train in Jaipur. As soon as my feet hit the platform I get swallowed by another swarm. Rickshaw drivers besiege me from all sides. The edge is near. I want out. But I got absolutely nowhere to go. Jaipur is a big city in the middle of the desert. The noise, smell and lack of personal space hit me hard. I pick a random rickshaw driver and repeat the name of my guesthouse of choice until he shuts his mouth and starts driving. I end up in Atithi Guesthouse. It looks fancy but it's overpriced. The lack of a grill in front of my second floor window will keep me worried every second I stay in this stinky, crowded town. Paranoia and anxiety hold me in a tight grip.
But hey, on the bright side, I survived my first (and last?) Indian train ride and found myself a room. After a shower I do an attempt to enjoy a relaxing sunset on the rooftop terrace but the evening cold is too much to handle. So I return to my room, get under the blankets and hide away from this awful place 'til morning.

The next day I decide to be strong and check out the sights. After all, this is supposed to be an awesome place according Lonely Planet. But as soon as I leave the guesthouse the swarm swallows me again. A small army of rickshaw drivers surrounds me, negotiating a price, getting driven to shops where I don't want to be and tumbling from the city swarm in the tourist swarm and back again. I truly, deeply despise this place. As soon as the morning cold disappears, the suns starts burning. Fuck this fucking desert! I do visit the highlights of the area but I couldn't care less. While India is torturing my senses I'm dreaming about palm trees, sunny beaches and driving a motorbike down an abandoned road near the sea…

Fuck it, I've always denied being an adventurer or a traveller. My life in Brussels wasn't working out so I came looking for a better place, a spot in the sun where I could shine. Or, more accurately, where the sun could shine on me. Whatever, this place ain't it. I don't think I'll last here much longer. Everyone told me India was dirty, noisy and busy. They were right. Everyone also told me you'll get scammed, robbed and sick in India…

I've got a little pride left that forces me to travel on for now. Although I must admit that a cold Chang beer and a hotdog on Khao San Road, the morning bus to Trat, crossing the border at Koh Kong and just go back once and for all sounds like a fucking awesome plan. I've spend so much time and effort trying to stay away. Maybe I should just accept that I already found my home in the sun a long time ago...

A New Arrival

On the flight out of Brussels I was finally able to relax. It feels like I've been in a state of blind panic for weeks. Leaving has simplified everything. Now there's only the long road ahead...

Arriving in Delhi was a lot less daunting than I had feared it to be. I took a taxi to Paharganj, the backpacker area, and found a room in the pleasant Ajay Guest House (clean place, good food and a sunny rooftop terrace for only 800 rupees). First I considered relaxing for a while but there was just too much adrenaline pumping through my veins. Finally in Delhi, finally on the trail! No time to waste, I must do something! So I jumped in an auto-rickshaw and started visiting numerous tourist attractions. Snapping pictures, running in and out of temples and observing the mad Delhi traffic from the back of an auto-rickshaw. At night, back in my room, I kept uploading pics on Flickr until I was unable to keep my eyes open any longer. Just like a kid in a candy store...

Of course, almost no sleep and running around like a mad man has it's price. On the second day the jet-lag, the noise and the crowds got to me. Tired and confused in a strange city of over 20 million people. But I refused to give in. Stubbornly I continued my Delhi tourist trip.
Ghandi Smriti, where Mahatma Ghandi got killed, was interesting (at least, for a Ghandi-fanboy like me) but the rest of the day was lost in exhaustion, fumes and noise. I dragged myself to a few more tourist spots but my heart was not in it any longer. Dreaming of palm trees and beaches I stumbled across a few more historical sights. Late afternoon, when it started to drizzle, I called it a day and took a rickshaw back to the guesthouse. When I paid the driver, he said:
"Whatever's fine, sir. I don't care about the money. I like you, you are my friend"
That's how I knew I had paid this sleazy bastard way too much…
Oh well, there's always an amount of learning money to pay in any new place. Everything's dirt cheap here anyway. At least I didn't fall for the "Hello, how are you? Please, follow me for a free map of Delhi"- line. Or, even worse, for any offers to buy dope. So far I've been an exemplary boy scout. I've been to busy to even think about getting drunk. My mother should be proud.

This is my third day in Delhi. That's about all I can handle. I do love the food, I love the chai (Indian milk-tea) and I'm excited to be in the East. But this city's just too much for me; too many people, too much traffic, too much noise. This morning I booked a train ticket out of here. Spending the rest of the day relaxing on the roof terrace; only getting down in the busy street to buy food, a Murakami novel and a brand-new haircut. Delhi is preferably enjoyed up on the fifth floor, in the sunshine, with a good book and a lassi fruit shake.
Anyway, tomorrow I'm out of here. It's time to explore more of this huge, weird country I'm in.
It feels like I'm on a roll...

Out Of The Loop

The day job is done. For almost seven years it was an easy way to make an honest living. I've hated it at times of course, had some fun now and then and was ever grateful for the paychecks, benefits and paid holidays. It was easy, safe and boring work. No alarms and no surprises. A steady live slowly driving me insane. Today I reassured my supervisors that I will be back next year. Sure, I'll be back (but only if all else fails).

My final departure turned out just like my work presence; uneventful and largely unnoticed. A few colleagues took the time for a handshake and goodbyes. Then I got in my car and drove away. I strangled the brain dead dodo on my way home. I'm out. I'm free.

Fuck, yeah! I'm out! I'm free! Out of the rat race! Away with the way of the dodo! I ain’t gonna work on Maggie’s farm no more

No more underachieving and hiding from life in front of the TV. I'll be gone in 5 days… Real gone. Heading to India, at last. It's been over a decade since this idea first crossed my mind. I was eating felafel, late at night on the beach front boulevard in Tel Aviv, together with an Italian girl. I was madly in love with her. We had spend a few weeks drifting through the Middle East together. The next day she would fly back to Rome and I was to return to Brussels. Plans were made to meet again soon for a big journey through India…

Her Facebook profile tells me that she's married with children now. Me, I'm still dreaming about India. Still yearning for the road, still looking for beauty, searching for wisdom and hoping to find my place in the sun.

I don't need a wife or kids or a cosy family. I feel like I've already won. I've got the balls to walk away from this golden cage, dust off an old dream and get going. That's all I ever wanted. That's all I need.