2024 Southeast Asia Travel Recap

If you’ve followed this blog for a while now you will have noticed that I have hardly posted for the entire 2024 season. I’ll admit the reason for this is two-fold: one, balancing travel with consistent work and creation is difficult and two, I am constantly overwhelmed by the immense number of ideas, experiences, and advice I feel the desire to share here. Thus, nothing has come to this blog for quite some time now. So, as a reintroduction, for you all to me and for me to writing, here is my 2024 in all its adventurous, chaotic glory:

January: Northern Thailand

I came into 2024 sitting on my friend Reese’s couch sipping hot cocoa and bailey’s, not even looking at a clock. A riveting start, I know. Although the first minutes of the year were simple, 2024 would end up being anything but. It turned into an incredible year full of magic and love that started with a 3 minutes late, “oh… happy New Year guys.”

From then on I was getting ready for my second one-way journey across the globe. I spent a week packing and saying goodbyes in my home town before flying over to Chicago. I planned it poorly, however, because although I have a multitude of friends living and studying in Chicago, I managed to choose the one week when none of them were actually in the city. So, I stayed alone in a friend’s studio apartment, awaiting the day of my big flight. Eventually that day arrived, and once again I was leaving the States for the complete unknown.

Within 24 hours I was in Bangkok. I immediately fell head over heels in love with the chaotic city, its bright temples and street vendors, monks dressed in orange, tuk tuks flashing neon, the hum of its busy streets. I would have stayed longer in Bangkok but I had signed up for a Worldpackers volunteer position in Northern Thailand, so I said “see you later” to the buzzing city and hopped on an overnight bus to the North.

I spent one night in Chiang Mai, making some use of Thailand’s lax weed laws, before taking a local yellow minibus out of the city to Watchara Farm. After quite the journey on the strange, converted truck I arrived at my first Southeast Asian Worldpackers. A young girl named Phone greeted me and brought me by motorbike up steep mud paths to her family’s farm where I met the other volunteers. We spent the week together doing work for the farm (planting, watering, digging plant beds), relaxing (reading, tanning, drinking tea), adventuring (hitchhiking to hot springs, going to a school’s sporting event), and honestly roughing it a bit (sleeping in wooden huts, washing laundry by hand, eating Mama Dang’s rice and soup for most meals). The mornings were cool, damp, and peaceful and we ended each day with meditation – the only light coming from the bonfire we sat around and the stars bright in the sky.

One day Watchara loaded us all into the back of his friend’s truck to bring materials to a hill tribe school. We drove four hours packed like sardines before arriving in a tiny wooden town. The school itself was on the other side of a river with only a rickety bridge available to reach it. However minimal this town’s resources clearly seemed, there was certainly no lack of joy. We were warmly welcomed. They converted a room usually lined with desks to one lined with mattresses and we ate dinner alongside the teachers as a family would. In the evening teachers, volunteers, and monks alike sat around a fire laughing and chatting even with language barriers present.

The next morning I was thrown into a classroom to teach English to every kid in the school. They had all been gathered together like schools back home do for pep fests or assemblies – so no pressure or anything. I managed to throw together a successful class teaching them about weather, rainbows, animals, and playing lots of games before having to return to Watchara’s Farm. On the farm I had my last vegetable soup, fireside meditation and morning tea, and returned to Chiang Mai. I met up with a couple of the farm’s volunteers who had left earlier in the week to embark upon a road trip called the Mae Hong Son Loop.

Five of us spent the next four days driving through Thailand’s mountainous North traveling from Chiang Mai to Doi Inthanon to Mae Hong Son to Pai. We made random stops where we discovered incredible mountain temples, confusing local ceremonies, and fun-filled markets with goofy haunted houses. We hiked and ate watermelon without cutlery and accidentally walked into Myanmar (Burma). When we finally reached Pai I knew right away that I wanted to stick around this cute hippy town a bit longer. So, the others completed the loop back to Chiang Mai while I stayed behind for tipsy tubing, muay thai, yoga, and, unfortunately, some food poisoning. After a night spent in the communal toilet and a couple days recovering by the pool, my stomach was put to the test again, only this time on the van back to Chiang Mai (a route notorious for bringing out every traveler’s motion sickness). I powered through, though, and made it back to Chiang Mai with no chunks blown.

February: Vietnam

I knew my time in Northern Thailand was coming to a close as I had booked a flight to head to Vietnam and meet up with Seija (my housemate from living in Australia). So, to finish off strong and for some much needed alone time, I spent my final days crossing some things off my bucket list – i.e. a solo motorbike trip to see the ornate and unique temples of Chiang Rai and then touring an elephant sanctuary to meet the majestic creatures up close and personal.

And with that, my Northern Thailand experience was over. A girl in the bathroom at my hostel happened to be on the same flight as me to Vietnam, so we shared a ride to the airport and I had an impromptu travel buddy for the day. While waiting at my gate I received a call from Seija crying that she didn’t have her Vietnam Visa and couldn’t get on her flight. We brainstormed a little bit but it was time for me to board so I hopped on my plane hoping the reason I was going to Vietnam would make it to Vietnam.

A couple hours later I landed in Ho Chi Minh City (Saigon), booked a ride to my hostel, got out of my taxi, and promptly ate shit on the side of the motorbike-filled street. I picked myself up, noting the few Vietnamese locals seated in plastic chairs staring, and carried on. Seija had figured out her visa situation, however, would now be arriving a couple days later. So, to fill my time I wandered around the streets of Saigon, visited museums, and took a tour of the infamous Cu Chi Tunnels used during the Vietnam War.

Seija arrived the day of Tet, otherwise known as the Vietnamese New Year, so we went straight to the city center where we watched fireworks and listened to hundreds of Vietnamese people react with adorably synchronized “wowwww”s with every single burst. While both locals and tourists partied late into the night, Seija and I caught up at a rooftop bar overlooking the crowded street and its occasional mini firework displays.

Little did we know that this celebratory night would end up being the bane of our travel plans as the regular buses and trains north were being canceled night after night. So as not to waste our time in the south, we took a tour of the Mekong Delta, during which another one of our transports was canceled and we were at a loss – we needed to get North! Luckily, our tour guide, Lu, came to the rescue and found us a local sleeper bus for that very night up to Nha Trang. A couple days later we were sleeping in triple-decker bunk beds on a train to Da Nang where we met up with Seija’s friend, Aleks and his travel buddies.

Together the five of us hiked, found random family restaurants to eat at, went out at night, watched Avatar, and played beach volleyball through Hoi An, Ninh Binh and Cat Ba. Seija and I did split off from the group for a few days to first take a motorbike trip to Hue along the scenic Hai Van Pass and then to visit a bunch of ducks in Phong Nha. Yes, you read that correctly, we visited this town for the sole reason of being surrounded by a hundred friendly ducks.

From Cat Ba, Seija and I headed further north to complete the iconic Ha Giang Loop on the back of our easy-riders’ motorbikes. The tour consisted of three days of foggy roads, bright blue rain ponchos, yummy food, scenic views, sore butts, karaoke, and happy water (aka rice wine). Our second night, the village we were staying in had a celebration where everyone danced around a giant bonfire singing Vietnamese songs and families kept handing Seija their babies for photo ops. Once the tour was over, I said goodbye to Luong, my driver, who had given me unwavering princess treatment, and Seija and I headed to Hanoi. Every moment I spent wandering around Hanoi I loved. It is pure chaos – everywhere you look there is something random going on, whether chicken feet being grilled on the curb, or a motorbike driving between the tables of Beer Street, or dogs dressed in fake Gucci.

Eventually it was time to part ways from Seija. We said our goodbyes in the hubbub of Hanoi, once again not knowing when we would get to see each other next. Although sad about losing my travel buddy, I knew my visa was ending soon and I needed to do some planning. Luckily I found out about backpackers getting turned away from the Northern Vietnam-Laos border for not having a physical visa from the embassy (i.e. the exact route I had begun to plan out). So, I immediately took an admin day to get my visa for Laos from the embassy in Hanoi and promptly headed up to SaPa for some trekking.

March: Laos

The peaceful rice fields of SaPa felt completely silent compared to the noisy and shuffling city of Hanoi. I had been in contact with a woman named Mama May and sure enough, she was at my bus station as soon as I arrived in the serene town. Mama May was part of the Black Hmong minority of Northern Vietnam and we spent two days hiking around her rice fields, going to local events, and chatting about our different cultures. Although only in her thirties she was already a grandma and wise beyond her years – she was not judgmental of my lifestyle nor in awe of it, we were simply two women who each enjoyed our own ways of life and wanted to learn about the other’s. I left Mama May’s and was no where near ready to go, but my visa was ending and I had to get to Laos. Mama May still texts me sometimes with random voice notes and they make my day every time.

Thus began my journey across the border that perfectly sums up the novelties of backpacking in Southeast Asia – I highly recommend you read more about this journey in my upcoming blog post (subscribe to be notified ;)) as it is easily one of my favorite travel stories. But for the sake of brevity in this already lengthening recap, I’ll leave you with this: it was an absolute roller coaster of a 28 hour travel day including free ice cream, losing all of my belongings, crossing the land border, gross toes, free lunch, throw up (not mine), and adorable Laotian kiddos. Then I was in Laos, reunited with my cousin Sabrina for our third time backpacking together!

In Luang Prabang we wandered the streets, witnessed the monks and the morning almsgiving, ate at the night market every night, and saw the most cinematic waterfall I’ve ever seen. Activities were a little expensive, it was smoky season due to farmers burning their fields, and Luang Prabang wasn’t our favorite city so we booked a train to Vang Vieng. It just so happened that also heading to Vang Vieng by train were five others, who all became our very fast friends from that day forward. Our little group spent days together driving motorbikes around, hiking up to viewpoints, swimming in blue lagoons, exploring caves, tipsy tubing, eating massive sandwiches from a street vendor called Mama Mon, and riding in a hot air balloon. Eventually we had to say goodbye to a portion of our new found family while Sabrina and I moved further south with two of the guys, Sean and Sam.

Sean was incredibly sick from the time we met him to the time we all decided to make our way down to Thakhek to complete the Thakhek Loop. He was down pretty bad when the four of us arrived in Vientiane and luck didn’t exactly turn around for him that night as we had a bed bug scare in our hostel dorm and were moved to an old, dark, barn-like dorm room that was no longer used. On top of that, the power went out, meaning no AC and no hot water to wash away the suspected bed bugs from our clothes. So, we spent the night with our stuff piled together in the middle of this abandoned dorm room with no power, waiting for the morning to come so we could leave for Thakhek. The morning came and we excitedly left, each brainstorming for the motorbike road trip we were about to embark on. We took a day in the town to explore, plan, and eat, mainly to allow Sean to get some strength back before he drove a motorbike for four days straight. Which was exactly what he needed because the next day Sabs and I were passenger princessing our way through rural Laos!

We started off strong with a flat tire and we should have known that was only the beginning. Halfway through the day Sam and my bike engine mysteriously decided to give up. Although it chose a great spot: across the street from a mechanic. The mechanics replaced a random part and we were back on the road looking at cows and exploring different caves. The next day we stopped for gas and as Sean was pulling out of the station, his tire popped. The gas station didn’t have a mechanic and we were miles away from any town so Sam and I rode until we reached the first tiny village we could find. I asked a shop keeper for help and although he didn’t know any mechanic, he told us to wait right where we were while he drove away. Confused, we waited and after a while he returned saying his friends were following him to help. Sure enough, two young boys no older than twelve puttered up to us on a tiny bike that was clearly struggling to hold them both. Seeing as we had no other viable options, Sam and I had these children follow us to the gas station to see what they could do. The kids couldn’t fix the tire with the tools they’d brought so Sean and Sam went with them to their shop while Sabrina and I stayed behind – the kiddos did not disappoint and the guys eventually returned, each with a bike in perfect condition.

It began to rain. We knew we had to make it a little bit farther that day so we pushed onward. Little did we know continuing on would mean having to cross a recent landslide. Sean and Sam somehow swerved around construction machines while slipping in the squelching mud, and successfully got us across the haphazard terrain all in one piece. After that though, we were all ready to be done with this long, long day. The last days of the Loop were much less eventful and we finally got to enjoy the incredible caves, people, roads, animals, and beauty of Southern Laos. After four days on the road and sleeping in guesthouses, we returned to Thakhek, dusty and exhausted but so happy.

Sabrina and I said a sad goodbye to Sam and Sean because they were staying behind in Thakhek while we moved on to island life on Don Det. Don Det is an island in the middle of the Mekong River and there we got to reconnect with one of our friends from Vang Vieng, Gen! We spent several days living on island time, riding bikes everywhere, kayaking along the river, eating cheap Indian food, swimming in the fresh water of the Mekong, drinking mango and coconut smoothies, and playing drinking games late into the night. Each of these nights Gen and I would walk home from whatever bar together singing songs on the dark, star-ceilinged island.

Sabrina and I left the adorable Don Det to swap fresh water with ocean water in the south of Thailand. From ferry to van to train, we crossed the border from Laos into Thailand and made our way to Bangkok. We spent a few days in Bangkok visiting the malls, an art museum, the floating market, and the train market. Being back in Thailand felt as if I was taking a big breath of fresh air.

April: Southern Thailand

From Bangkok, Sabrina and I headed south to Ao Nang. We spent a couple days saying hi to the beach monkeys and eating at the night market, but we quickly decided that we’d rather be in Railay. So, we hopped on a Thai long tail boat that brought us over to Railay Beach and I was immediately in awe. Railay was ridiculously stunning and it only got better when the sun began to set and the sky lit up with so many pinks and oranges. There were mysteriously dozens of giant jellyfish off the coast of Krabi region so to avoid these guys on the beach, we opted for a booze cruise for safer (?) swimming.

After a few days on Railay we decided to make our way over to Koh Lanta. Koh Lanta was much less crowded and we were able to rent a motorbike and explore Old Lanta Town, take dance classes, play with kitties at the animal rescue, and watch the sunset while naked babies played on the shore.

Eventually we needed to get over to Phuket to celebrate Songkran. After a quick ferry across the sea, we checked into a massive hotel with giant tiger statues looming overhead, purchased some unicorn water guns, threw on our colorful Songkran fits, and rolled out to super soak anyone that crossed our path. If you haven’t figured it out, Songkran is a massive water fight that celebrates the Thai New Year (Laos and Cambodia celebrate too). So for three days we were pelted by water guns and had our faces smeared with baby powder in order to be cleansed for the new year. The beach had DJs playing music, street vendors lined the beach, and the massage parlor ladies, especially, spent the whole day dancing outside their shops.

On one of these days I was waiting for some pad thai from a street vendor when someone grabbed a napkin from nearby. He turned and we both froze, realizing that we knew each other. It was Giorgio, a guy I’d played volleyball with while living in Australia! We excitedly caught up and realized that our upcoming itineraries were nearly the same. Sometimes the world really is so small. We quickly said goodbyes, positive that our paths would cross again very soon.

Once the Songkran festivities calmed down and it was again safe and dry to leave our hotel, Sabrina and I packed up our stuff and headed off to the eastern islands, starting with Koh Samui. We spent one day at a beach club on the island, splurging a bit for the luxury (yes, $15 for a pool club is a splurge day for these budget girlies). Then, Sabrina left for Koh Phangan to start a three day yoga retreat while I stayed behind. Although with Sabrina gone for a single day, I quickly came to realize that Koh Samui was insanely boring and I left for Koh Phangan not 24 hours later than she did.

Koh Phangan is a hub for any kind of person to do what they enjoy. If you like to party, there are parties; if you like exercise, there are classes and retreats; if you like beautiful beaches, you can spend your days there. The night before the iconic Koh Phangan Full Moon Party is always Jungle Party. Some new hostel friends, plus a reunited Giorgio and I decided to pay the ridiculous entrance fee and go. The night was fun, the music was good, the fire dancers were fiery, and the DJ sets were insane – one of them had a whole dragon head on it. It was great until about 4am when someone tracked me down anxiously saying that my friend’s drink had been spiked. When I found her she was totally panicked and her travel partner was no where to be found. I sat with her while calling her friend over and over until she picked up and was able to find us in the medical area. As soon as the two were reunited we went straight for the parking lot to get them a ride back to the hostel. Unfortunately, the taxi drivers on Koh Phangan are big time hustlers – they were saying ridiculous prices to get these girls home safe and sound. As I was drunkenly negotiating a price with one man he started driving away from me with my friends in the truck, so I slammed on his window telling him to stop and give us a fair price. He did not like my hitting his car because he immediately stopped and got out, seemingly ready to throw hands although Giorgio quickly stepped between us. I got my friends out of his vehicle and into another with a much better price and got them safely away from the jungle party.

The next night was Full Moon and it went quite a bit smoother. Sabrina and I were in a new hostel, walking distance from the party beach. I’d spent the entire day in bed and by 8pm was ready to rally, cover myself in body paint, and dance until the sun came up. There were bars, DJs, and fire throwers along the entire length of the beach along with tourists dancing, laying in the sand with bucket cocktails in hand, skinny dipping, and treating burns from attempting the fire jump rope. By the end of the night I sat on the sand, exhausted, watching the sun come up and the chaos slowing down around me.

Sabrina and I took a day to recover from Full Moon and then ferried over to Koh Tao. We reconnected with friends from Koh Phangan and watched sunsets, ate good food, and relaxed. I didn’t have much time on the island because my mom had bought me a flight from Bangkok to London that I had to be on at the start of May, but I definitely had a feeling I wasn’t finished with the magic of Koh Tao. Giorgio and I left Koh Tao together for Bangkok by ferry and then overnight bus. His flight was a day earlier than mine so we parted ways and I had some more time to once again explore new bits of my favorite Southeast Asian city, although the partying had definitely caught up to my system – I was sick.

May: England/Netherlands

I flew directly to London to meet up with my mom and her partner, Jon, on their holiday. We met at Paddington Station as soon as all our flights had arrived to catch a train to Bath. We spent a couple days in Bath seeing the adorable sights, enjoying the luxuries of a spa day, and stopping into pubs for afternoon pints when we didn’t know what else to do. One of these pub stops doubled as a catch up with Gen, whom you’ll remember from Laos! It was so exciting seeing them again and we once again enjoyed a drunken sing-along in the night, only this time along the lit, cobblestoned streets of England.

My mom rented us a car for a road trip through the Cotswolds although her driving on the left side of the road certainly had Jon and I regretting this road trip. We made it a little ways into the cute region when my mom hit a slightly too-sharp curb, thus slicing the tire. We waited in a quaint neighborhood for quite some time before a road side assistance man arrived for our rescue. He changed the tire and we were off again, this time with me in the driver’s seat.

We ended the roadie in Stratford-Upon-Avon and eventually returned to London for Jon and my mom’s last bits of their trip. We went to the theatre, roamed around Camden and Borough Markets, and toured some of the classic tourist hubs before the two of them had to fly back to the States. I, on the other hand, decided to stay longer, first crashing at my friend, Natalie’s, in Wimbledon and then visiting another friend, Jack, and his family in Kent. Mixing the touristy time with friend time was so fun and I thought, why not keep it going? I decided to complete the quick flight over to Amsterdam where I ended up cat sitting for a family friend and reconnecting with yet another friend from my time in Australia, Cece! This month-long Euro trip, seeing new sights and old friends, was exactly what I needed. Although it started getting a bit too expensive, and I knew it was time to return to Asia. I had applied and gotten a Worldpackers volunteer position at a hostel on Koh Tao, so I flew back into Bangkok knowing I’d be making my way back to the South.

I was eating dinner alone at a restaurant prior to my night bus, when the servers turned on traditional music and started dancing around the crowded tables. As my dinner and a show came to an end, a tall woman in Muay Thai shorts came from the back of the restaurant. I asked if she was a fighter and she turned out to be a Polish woman training and staying with the owners of the restaurant. As soon as I got this info out of her she fired back, “do you want a shot?” Without hesitation I accepted and I ended up leaving for my overnight bus surprised, happy, and a little tipsy.

I had every intention of getting on the night bus and completely passing out, however, my seat-mate was a Belgian girl named Marie and we clicked almost instantly. She reminded me a lot of an old roommate from living in Australia, so although her English was mediocre, I had no trouble understanding her since she spoke exactly like Julie had! We chatted all the way from Bangkok to Koh Tao and as soon as we arrived at our destination we made plans to meet back up that very afternoon. I walked half an hour in the heat of the day to my accommodation, found out I couldn’t check in yet, changed into my swimsuit, and jumped right into the ocean. I was so exhausted I fell asleep in the sand with no shade hiding me from the burning rays of the sun. Thus, I woke up to texts from Marie about meeting for food, completely burnt, starving, and thrilled for this island to become my new home.

June: Koh Tao

Marie and I spent the entire following week together. We hiked, swam, snorkeled, played beach volleyball, collected new friends, organized family dinners, danced, watched the island drag show, and relaxed together. I had one week before starting my Worldpackers work and Marie filled that week with so much fun and joy. When she inevitably had to leave Koh Tao, we both cried.

Although sad, it was alright timing because then I could throw myself into working at my new home – Wonderland Hostel on the other side of the island. I rented a pink motorbike, piled my belongings onto her, and rode up into the island’s jungle.

I immediately knew that Wonderland was exactly where I was meant to be. The hostel itself was adorable and cozy, but the staff were the ones I would soon discover to be the highlight of the jungle accommodation. Jake, Pasha, Dean, Blue, and Josh were the perfect mesh of people for me to fall right into and become family. Blue and Josh actually ended up leaving during my stay but Jake, Pasha, Dean, and I spent our days working, relaxing, napping, eating, exploring, hosting activities, and going out together. I was living in paradise. I found my nap spot in the common area, I knew everyone that checked in, I hyped up our hostel activities (specifically quiz nights hosted by yours truly), I went to the beach when I felt like it, I learned Thai and could speak a little with island locals, I watched Dean tear up the drums at open mics, and I road Tulip (my trusty pink scooter) around the palm tree lined roads.

Time blended together in the month I spent on Koh Tao. Guests came and went, some of them I got closer with and was sad when they left but I always had Jake, Dean, and Pasha. Eventually my old housemate from living in Australia, Talia, showed up at Wonderland. She fell in love with Koh Tao too and stayed for the remainder of my time on the island – so she was always there as well. Oh and Kevin – a longterm guest. I feel like this is something he would read so – Kevin, if you’re reading this, hi!

The weeks went by and I was on cloud 9. I was surrounded by love and music and a beautiful island while feeling like the most whole, happy, shining me. Eventually my month commitment to Wonderland was coming to a close and although I wasn’t ready to leave, I knew there was so much more I wanted to see in Asia. So I started planning to head back to northern Thailand and make my way to Cambodia. That plan lasted for all of one week when one of our guests, Raffy, invited me to go to Indonesia with him. Although Indonesia had not been in the cards for 2024 as I’d been planning a separate Indo adventure for a later date – everything in me was, for some reason, screaming, “say yes.” So I did. We planned to meet up in Malaysia a week later, he left the island, and I finished up my volunteer stint in Wonderland.

July: Malaysia/Indonesia

My last week was full of final parties, sunsets, and goodbyes. Talia and I planned a little girls trip prior to my crossing the border into Malaysia and we invited another girl, Tessa, to join us as well. I returned Tulip the scooter to her rental home and Tess, Talia, and I boarded an overnight ferry and watched the night sky engulf the island as we drifted farther and farther away from the magical island that had become all of our home.

We slept in the ferry’s bright orange bunk beds for the night and in the morning maneuvered our way to Khao Sok National Park. Once there, we booked a two day tour of the National Park which would end up being the greatest two day girls trip any of us could have imagined. Khao Sok is a huge lake with ginormous karst rock formations surrounding its edges. We motor-boated through the incredible scenery and after an hour arrived at our accommodation for the night: bamboo bungalows floating, yes FLOATING, on the water. It was a dream. We had met a solo girl on our tour named Luna and invited her to join our trio – so the four of us shared an adorable hut with our front stoop a dock looking out over the serene water.

We went on a hectic jungle hike with our boat captain, Bird, to see a waterfall inside a cave. We then returned to our bungalow paradise where we were free to swim, kayak, eat, and admire the pinkest sunset I have ever seen. Being from Minnesota, it felt good to be experiencing a true lake day once again – especially with three friends that made me giggle and smile like I was a little girl again. The following day we woke up early

for a grey but beautiful sunrise and then were corralled into the boat to find monkeys along the shores of the lake. I sat next to Bird as co-captain, watching the monkeys play and swing and bully one another. The tour came to an end that afternoon and I had mistakenly waited too long to book my bus across the border into Malaysia – everything was completely booked. So, I spent one more lonely but necessary admin day in Khao Sok Town before van hopping my way across the Thai-Malaysia border to meet up with Raffy a day late.

By the time I arrived in George Town, the sun had set and Raffy was waiting for me on the side of the road. I was starving so we got some shockingly cheap Arabic food before settling down in the first accommodation of our travels together. The following morning I took some solo time to explore the artsy city of George Town since Raffy had been up until 3am watching England loose at football. I happily wandered the mural-lined streets, accepted the occasional “good morning beautiful lady!” and window shopped the multitude of artisan stores. Once Raffy was ready to join me for the day, we checked out a museum and decided to hike from the Botanical Garden to Penang Hill, getting only slightly lost along the way, and eventually reaching the birds eye view of George Town as dusk snuggled in around us.

We resolved to hitch hike down to Kuala Lumpur to catch our flight to Indonesia and we knew we’d better get started on those 600 kilometers asap. So, we stocked up at a gas station where Raffy managed to flag down a police officer who got us off Penang Island and to the most ideal location: a truck rest stop. We waited for maybe three minutes until I chatted up Lim Lim, heading to Malacca. We couldn’t believe our luck. Several hours, a couple bathroom breaks, and many chats about motorcycles later, Lim Lim dropped us off right in front of the accommodation we had booked from the back seat of his car.

The accommodation was tiny, stuffy, and windowless and the receptionist was not friendly, but we didn’t let this first impression hinder our excitement for Kuala Lumpur. We spent three days in the major city and, once we switched accommodation, were feeling pretty boujee. We wandered the street markets, stared up at the KL Twin Towers, enjoyed some rooftop cocktails, went to a movie theater, took a day trip to the iconic Batu Caves, ate peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and swam in our hotel’s rooftop infinity pool. Inevitably the day of our flight to Indonesia arrived and we excitedly made our way to the airport expecting things to be smooth sailing – unfortunately, we didn’t realize that our luck had been used up for the week.

We arrived at the front of the check in line where we were promptly told that we would need to check our baggage. We hadn’t paid ahead of time and expecting it to be Southeast Asian prices didn’t think anything of suddenly needing to pay a bit. Then the woman told us it would be 40 Malaysian Ringgit (great! easy!) … per kilogram. I did some quick math and 40 Ringgit per kilo made out to be $130 USD EACH. We were about to both pay twice the price of the flight itself in order to check our baggage at an airport in Malaysia. There was nothing to do but painfully say goodbye to our money, check our bags in, and go through security.

A few hours later we landed in Denpasar Bali and, pockets still hurting, walked past hundreds of shouting taxi drivers, through the dark, twisting streets to our hostel for the night. We wanted to go to Lombok the next day, and although it had been my job to find us a boat – I had put it off a little too long, having forgotten that we were in the middle of tourist high season. We sat in our hostel’s dining room at midnight, cracking open Bintangs to calm our nerves and cooking cup noodles to fill our empty bellies, when the hostel owner, Freddie, joined us as we were struggling to find a last minute ferry to Lombok. With his local’s magic, he pulled up an available boat for the next afternoon. We immediately booked the ride and spent the rest of the evening chatting with Freddie and slowly easing away the stress of the previous 24 hours.

The next morning we said our goodbyes and thank yous to Freddie before heading to the pier for our ferry. Everything was going smooth once again and we were on our way to Lombok. Whew! The boat landed in Bangsal Port, but we had accommodation booked a 2 hour drive away in Kuta. So, we decided to stick out our thumbs and hitchhike down to the bottom of the island. Pretty quickly we were picked up by a truck heading to Mataram and we excitedly tumbled into the truck bed alongside a

motorbike and some cardboard boxes. We blissfully watched the sun go down around us and enjoyed the windy ride until we were dropped off halfway to our destination. Unfortunately, as friendly as these guys were, they didn’t exactly drop us off in a convenient location for hitchhiking – so we began to walk. We made it to a major road but people were simply not stopping for us. A couple taxi drivers stopped, but when we explained that we weren’t looking to pay, they understandably drove off. As we spent more and more time on the side of the road, kids would come over to chat with us, confused by what we were doing there. One of them even tried calling his friends to see if they’d be up for a road trip down to Kuta but no luck there. As it continued getting later and darker, we eventually just booked a Grab to our accommodation. We were ready for this travel day to be over.

We spent several days in Kuta going with the flow of the little beach town. We watched sunsets, tanned on the beach, visited trendy coffee shops, did some yoga, toured local communities, and Raffy surfed. Kuta was very relaxed but we were ready for a bit more action. So, I booked us some tours.

I had Mount Rinjani saved for my next visit to Indonesia, but honestly knew very little about it and hadn’t expected to be visiting so soon. Meaning we went into a three day volcano hike completely blind – and it was INCREDIBLE. I plan to write a more in depth post about this experience but we basically spent three days camping, seeing unreal sights, summiting 3,726 meters, eating delicious Indonesian food, swimming in volcanic waters, hanging out with our guide and porters, and waiting for the three Thai guys in our group to catch up. By the end of three days our legs felt like jelly and we were nearly delusional with both joy and exhaustion.

We spent one celebratory night in Senggigi with burgers and sleep before being picked up for our next tour. To balance out the three strenuous days on Mount Rinjani I had booked us a recovery boat tour to Komodo National Park. We spent four days living on a boat, jumping into the water, seeing whale sharks and Komodo dragons, stopping off at random islands, getting tanner than ever before, and often doing nothing at all. At the start of this tour we stopped at a shop and one of the group members randomly asked if I had worked at The Crown. I was blown away by this sudden name drop of my old workplace in Australia and quickly recognized the questioner as one of my old customers! Yet another exciting proof of this small world.

When we landed in Labuan Bajo on the fourth day, tanned and re-energized, Raffy and I knew that our days traveling together were coming to an end. So, as a last hurrah – and to get out of the slightly boring coastal town – we decided to book a glamping accommodation further inland. We spent three days with an adorable Indonesian family who took care of us as if we were part of their own family. Mama Lea cooked us all our meals, her husband let Raffy drive his ancient semi-auto bike around, and their little boy was so adorable. We visited a waterfall to cliff jump, watched sunset over the island, drew, danced, and played clue and card

games. When we drove to a viewpoint for sunset, a man asked if we wanted to pay for tea or coffee. We refused because we didn’t have any cash on us but the man still brought out tea for me and coffee for Raffy free of charge. I will forever be in awe of Southeast Asian people’s knack for pure kindness and hospitality.

The night before Raffy’s departure from Indonesia, he woke me up to a massively swollen bite on his arm. He was in a lot of pain so I drew a circle around the bite and sought out Mama Lea for some help. She tied some garlic to it, I gave him medicine, Lea’s husband stuck a cigarette in his mouth, and eventually we got back to bed. The next morning the bite was better but Lea told us she hadn’t been able to sleep because she was so worried about him; she truly became our Indonesian Mom in the span of three days. From there we went straight to the airport to drop Raffy off. It was a sad goodbye and suddenly I realized Indonesia hadn’t remotely been my plan for 2024 and now I was alone in East Indonesia with no idea what was next.

August: Indonesia

I had decision paralysis. I was back in Labuan Bajo and simply did not know where to go or what to do next. I knew I wanted to get to Cambodia, but that was a far ways away. At the time I was staying in a popular hostel for $14 per night, but with my lack of decision making and lengthening stay, I decided to look for something cheaper. So I switched to a random hostel for $7. My new digs were located in a decrepit alleyway – I walked through the blue door of a small house into a tiny entryway with a messy table, a couple couches, and all 25 bunkbeds lined behind a thin wall.

My initial thought was, “what have I got myself into.” The hostel manager introduced himself as Uncle Chris and showed me to my bed. Instead of the usual privacy consideration of allowing the guest to settle in, Chris sat himself at a bed kiddie-corner to me and started telling me about the other guests and whatever else he could think of. Although this was all a bit unsettling at first, I would soon come to find Uncle Chris incredibly endearing and befitting of his self proclaimed uncle status.

After a few days I started looking at different Worldpackers options in West Indonesia and was accepted at several in Java. I also found out Marie, who you’ll remember I met in Thailand, was making her way to Indonesia and would be starting in the West. So, I finally made a decision: Java was next! I found the cheapest flight to Jakarta, which would depart in a week and extended my stay with Uncle Chris until then.

In the end I spent a total of a week and a half with Uncle Chris. A week and a half that ended up being so random it reminded me exactly why I love solo travel. I spent my time visiting cafes, reading, going to the beach, chatting with Uncle Chris and other guests, and exploring the coastal town. Here are some of my favorite pieces of this time:

Every morning Uncle Chris would ask if I had eaten his neighbor’s fried chicken which he only sells at 7am. I would ask why he couldn’t sell his chicken a little bit later in the day, and Chris never understood why I would consider asking such a silly question.
I went to a hill called Sylvia Hill for sunset, but as the sun was going down I lost reception and couldn’t book a Grab home. So, I asked a big truck full of locals if they could bring me back to town. They excitedly had me climb into the front seat and took lots of photos with me before realizing they regretfully could not bring me where I wanted to go. I said it would be ok, climbed out of the massive truck, and prepared to start walking, when one of their friends arrived with a motorbike offering to bring me back to town. He dropped me off and drove away without expecting any payment for his generosity.
Every once in a while Uncle Chris would get tired of having to work – with all of three guests filling his hostel – and would simply shut down his online booking systems. He wanted to go to bed so that was that – no more bookings!
I wanted to go to a far peninsula for sunset but as my Grab driver brought me there he was concerned that I would not be able to get a ride back to town. So, he offered to wait for me in the parking lot, however, that seeming quite boring, I asked if he wanted to join me for the sunset. He obliged and we walked along the beautiful peninsula where I made us peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and he showed me photos of his family. He seemed very happy with his decision to join me – even as we drove back to town and the pinks and oranges were still slightly visible in the sky, he did not want to look away.
I was eating lunch and journaling alone in a cafe when a woman approached me asking if I would model for her brother’s cafe down the road. Flattered, I gave her my contact info and the next day her brother reached out inviting me to his cafe, Komodough. When I arrived they had a whole team waiting for me and allowed me to order anything I wanted off of their menu. I basically got to eat yummy pastries, drink delicious coffee, and let people take pictures of me for an hour. They gave me some merch, let me bring home my unfinished pastries and even offered for me to come back the following day just for free breakfast – no photos required!
Uncle Chris brought three of us at the hostel to the fish market where we got to pick our own fish, caught fresh that morning, to have cooked as we sat on the dock. Another evening he ordered us all pork skewers and rice and refused any sort of payment we offered.

In the end, I was sad to leave Uncle Chris and his quirky hole-in-the-wall hostel. He made his son drive me to the airport and suddenly I was leaving a town I had not expected to fall in love with, but did.

I flew to Jakarta and when I tell you I hate this city, I mean it with my whole heart. There are VERY few places I actively don’t like in this world. Most of the time I either love a place or simply don’t feel as connected to it, but Jakarta is another story. I partially attribute my hatred to the frustrating requirements I had to maneuver to get my Indonesian visa extended and I mostly blame the public transport system. Although Marie had not yet arrived in the city, as soon as I received my passport back from the government office, I was out of there.

I decided to take myself on a solo adventure to Bogor. For what? I was not certain, but I’d figure that out when I got there. I hopped on a train out of Jakarta and I should have known that just because I was leaving the city, it would not mean my struggles with public transport were over. Google maps said I would need to take a train then a bus then another bus and I would arrive in Bogor – easy enough! Not. Problems began to arise when I caught my first bus of the day. Apparently, the transport card I’d purchased in Jakarta did not work for buses outside of the city and for some unknown reason, the driver would not take cash. I was still allowed on the bus though and suddenly I was standing, surrounded by Javanese women, none of whom spoke good English and who all REALLY wanted to help me. In the end, I confusedly accepted the free ride and left the bus with lots of adorable, chatty friends who I didn’t understand a word from. For a bit they tried to help me find my next bus, but eventually the crowd dwindled and I can only assume they each gradually decided they’d better not be late for work. I was all alone once again and simply could not find my bus stop.

In other countries wandering around looking utterly confused can be considered quite dangerous, but I have found that in Southeast Asia it is often the best thing to do in moments like this. Sure enough, I was fast approached by a man wanting to help me – I did still remain wary, of course (specifically because his English was a little too good), but I really had limited options for solving my dilemma. He introduced himself as Daniel and when I told him I was trying to get to Bogor, he sat me on a tiny stool next to a woman’s street food cart and told me to wait for a red bus. Thus, every time a red bus showed up for the next hour I looked at him, to which he would respond “not this one.” After a while he ran off with his friends and I was alone, now putting my trust in the street cart lady, who did not speak a word of English. After another half hour of waiting on my little stool, another red bus pulled up and an elderly man, who had been sitting behind me, tapped my shoulder confirming that this was finally it! As I climbed aboard, Daniel threw me shakas from across the street and off I went. During the ride the entire bus was serenaded by a man and his ukulele and then a woman and her karaoke machine while I sat taking it all in, feeling incredibly proud of myself.

I arrived in Bogor and began planning for whatever solo adventure I could find. I spoke with the hostel manager and she gave me some info about a volcano hike and motorbike rentals and I was sold. I rented a motorbike that night from a strange parking garage and the next day woke up, drove 2 hours through unexpectedly hectic traffic, and hiked to a volcano. I hiked for a while, keeping track of my path and my surroundings, getting very excited whenever a stray sign seemingly said I was still on the right track. Suddenly I started smelling sulfur and I turned the corner to an entirely different planet. For the previous hour I had been hiking through lush greenery, beautiful trees and flowing water, but now everything was grey dust and char. I looked over bubbling grey water and dead trees and my eyes couldn’t believe the sight. I eventually found a section of volcanic water that was blue and not dangerously broiling, so I slipped off my clothes and blissfully swam in the warm waters, completely alone.

After this small side quest, I returned to Jakarta, thankfully on a more straightforward route this time and reunited with Marie! We sat in our hostel’s common area at 1 am eating cup noodles, catching up and planning for the coming weeks together. The next day we caught a train

to Bandung and met up with her friend Niko. We spent several days in the bustling town, exploring busy streets, driving around tea fields, eating strawberries, paying ridiculous tourist prices to see volcanoes, and relaxing in hot springs.

We moved on to Yogyakarta, where we met up with another one of Marie’s friends, Bosse. The three of them started planning a road trip to Nepal Van Java and the independent traveler within me was at first annoyed they had started planning while I had been off exploring the city, but, then I realized they had planned everything for me! I simply had to pack my bags, hop on the back of a scooter and enjoy the trip. After so much planning and decision making the past months, it ended up being so nice to shut my brain off for a week and let Marie and the boys do all necessary thinking.

So, we rolled out of Yogyakarta and began our road trip out to Nepal Van Java. We stopped at a stunning waterfall along the way and drove into the colorful, mountainside town just as the sun began to set. We ate at one of two open restaurants and slept early since a sunrise hike was on the docket for the next day.

The next morning we made our way to the base of the hike in the pitch black hour of 3am. We made our way up the volcano and eventually the day’s first light began to illuminate other volcanoes in the distance – one of which was active and we could see the smoke billowing from its peak. Exhausted, we claimed a seat in cozy tall grass and watched as the sun turned the entire scene golden. The rest of our morning was spent hiking back down, eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and returning to our homestay for a much needed nap.

The four of us returned to Yogyakarta together. I had taken a Worldpackers job nearby, Marie and Niko wanted to head further East, and Bosse needed to wait for some motorbike customizations in Yogya. So, our little group parted ways and I caught a train to a town outside of Yogyakarta called Klaten where I would be teaching English for the next two weeks.

My host, Ovik, picked me up from the train station and I immediately felt like a welcome addition to his adorable family. There was one other volunteer when I arrived, a South Korean girl named Seina and I fell in love with Ovik’s three little girls who called everyone “tia.” My first week was full of random activities with my new family – we worked together, lived together, and experienced life in Klaten together. Work at the school was incredibly relaxed and fun since my job was to help the teachers with games, tests, and conversation practice. Almost all of the teachers were women and it was a wonderful environment to be surrounded by such sweet souls who genuinely wanted to have me there helping them out.

Ovik would bring us all to various community events as well. We got to experience a traditional Javanese puppet show, meet Klaten’s mayor, go to Indonesian Independence Day celebrations, serve meals to those in need, visit mosques and temples, and learn Javanese dance and instruments. One day we were even together for an earthquake occurring – my first one ever and the earth certainly shook! Our meals were provided by the family’s grandmother, Alma, who did not speak any English although that did not hinder my affection for her. She would use hand signs to ask me if I needed to eat, to tell me food was ready, and to let me know that I could use her motorbike if I needed. Her food was not incredible and sometimes had ants climbing around it, but after a bad bout of food poisoning from eating out at a local restaurant, I decided to stick to her cooking over intense fever, weight loss, and nausea.

September: Indonesia/Malaysia/Thailand

The food poisoning really had me down for the count for a while. Seina left and a German girl, Stela took her place. My energy was at an all time low and so the two of us did much fewer activities than Seina and I had, but I was very glad to have Stela around. We watched classic movies every night, went for walks around the rice fields, and took a baking class one day. We even joined our host parents for a day of river tubing!

I do feel that I am painting an idyllic picture of Klaten and I would like to be transparent. Although Ovik, his family, the teachers at the school, and our small community was warm and welcoming, roaming Klaten as a foreign woman was not always the most comfortable. Wearing a t-shirt and long pants I would get catcalled while crossing the street, I was often stared at, and strangers would take photos of me or with me without my consent. I am not one to complain about another culture or way of life, but by the end of two weeks I found myself not wanting to leave the haven of the community I trusted to explore on my own anymore. In the end, it was still a sad goodbye and as I returned to Yogyakarta, I certainly teared up while reading the letters the teachers and my host family gifted me.

I spent a few more days in Yogya taking walking tours, meeting my hostel owner’s snakes, having family dinners, going to a Ramayana ballet, learning about traditional Javanese art forms, and planning my next moves. I applied for a Worldpackers in Malaysia and got the job, so I started figuring out how I was going to get to the Cameron Highlands from Yogyakarta as fast as possible. I booked a flight from Jakarta to Kuala Lumpur, my main issues being that I hated Jakarta and wanted to spend as little time there as possible and that I was very satisfied with the time I’d spent in Kuala Lumpur with Raffy and didn’t exactly want to spend much more time there either. Thus began a very long travel day.

I hopped on a train to Jakarta at 8am with my flight out that same evening. When I reached Jakarta, getting to the airport was a mission in itself (as I expected) and halfway through the journey my ear was screaming with pain. On top of that I had issues with paying for the final public transport to the airport thanks to dumb, money-grabbing rules that I won’t even get into here, but a random woman ended up gifting me her ticket she no longer needed and I was on my way. I was extremely grateful but didn’t have time to think about my luck because while on the train my ear pain became completely unbearable. I was faint, pale, and sweaty and was positive that I did not look much better than I felt. I sat slouched in my seat, fiercely fanning myself, debating if I would survive this train ride let alone the flight I was about to get on in a few hours. The train pulled into the station and I simply had to pull myself together and find my way through security and to my gate, dizzy and disoriented.

Luckily, the pain subsided while I waited for my flight and ate some chicken nuggets, so by the time my flight was taking off I was feeling much better. The flight was short and my plan was to land at 3am and sleep in the Kuala Lumpur International airport until the buses started running. This plan quickly became entirely unnecessary as we did indeed land at 3am, only not at KL International. We were at some random airport north of KL and over the intercom it was announced that this airport was closed – how we landed at a closed airport? I could not tell you. We sat on the tarmac for 3 hours as I dozed in and out of consciousness and, at some point, we were in the air again heading to the correct airport.

Thus, I landed at 8am with all the buses in KL running, so I was able to catch one up to the Cameron Highlands right away. I spent one night in the town and the next day was picked up by my new Worldpackers host, Ja. We ate incredible Indian food and drove out to the Glamping site where I would be reception and housekeeping for the week. A couple happened to have booked a tour of the Highlands that day and I got to tag along for a full sightseeing tour of the region famous for its immense tea fields. Along with the tea fields, though, the area had many quirky tourist spots like bee farms, lavender fields, various markets, and many shops for selling local goods. The traffic was insane and frankly, it was a tour I was glad to be having but also glad I hadn’t paid for.

The following day another volunteer arrived named Monica and we became fast friends. I was extremely happy she had shown up because otherwise waiting around for guests, cleaning the tents, listening to the rain, and cozily reading with a cat in my lap would have gotten a little bit lonely. Together we enjoyed local tea and strawberry jam, motorbiked to the town’s night market, ate cheap Indian food, did arts and crafts and photoshoots, and binge watched a murder mystery series. Our hosts were very busy and we didn’t see them much, but one day we joined them for their weekly badminton night. They were incredible at badminton and although I could hold my own in a rally, I did not win a single game and we all laughed at my competitive frustration. On both Monica and my last night in the Cameron Highlands we got to sleep in one of the glamping tents. We ate marshmallows, watched tv, played games and giggled as if we were camping for the first time. The next morning we packed up our belongings and hopped on a bus out of the Cameron Highlands.

Monica was remaining in Malaysia, and I had originally planned to explore more of the country too, but I was still weak after my illness back in Klaten and although I couldn’t quite put a finger on why, I realized Malaysia was not where I wanted to be anymore. So, I decided to return to Koh Tao. To return to my friends and the parties and being surrounded by love and Thai food and paradise once more. I was burning out and I wanted to be back on that magical island to recharge.

I spent one night in Ipoh after saying goodbye to Monica and then proceeded to catch a train to the North. Then another train to the Malay-Thai border, I walked across the border, caught a van and a train further North to Surat Thani, and finally an overnight ferry to Koh Tao – none of which I booked ahead of time. When my train arrived in Surat Thani there were no Grabs picking me up and I only had 20 minutes to reach the port before my boat left. A single taxi driver approached me offering a ride for way too much money. He eventually lowered his price for a motorbike instead of a car and that motorbike driver absolutely booked it across the pitch black city to get me to my boat on time. I paid the ferry fee and happily nestled into my tiny bed’s Hello Kitty blanket and princess pillow. Shoulder to shoulder with locals and tourists, surrounded by motorbikes and with only a tiny fan to keep me cool, I slept like a baby knowing I would be back in my favorite place when I woke up again.

The ferry docked at 5am and I swear I floated off that boat. I walked straight to the beach and happily laid there in the cloudy dawn wondering if anyone I knew would walk past. I quickly disregarded that thought because it was 5am and certainly no one I knew would be down on the beach at that kind of hour when sure enough, a friend from back in June, Elle, came strolling by and recognized me lying there in the sand. We excitedly hugged and caught up and she eventually continued on her walk while I laid back down knowing with every fiber of my being that I’d made the right decision coming back to Koh Tao.

Once the motorbike rentals started opening I got myself a bike for the week – this time a blue one which I aptly named Blueberry – and drove up to my Wonderland jungle oasis. I walked up to reception, where Dean was seated and Joe was working, with a massive grin on my face. They welcomed me with equally sized smiles, love-filled hugs, and checked me in right away. The following week Joe and I ended up spending pretty

much every moment together. We went to the beach, relaxed at Wonderland, danced late into the night, made many 7-11 snack runs, and let’s be honest, acted like complete idiots most of the week. The rooms at Wonderland were quite expensive for Southeast Asian prices, so I ended up living in a tent they’d set up in the back with no AC, but hey, it was a cheap private room and I wasn’t complaining!

Although I wished I could have stayed longer on Koh Tao, I knew I would be mad at myself if I never made it to Cambodia. So, after a week of so much fun and love and recharging my solo travel battery with new and old friends, I hopped on a bus up to Bangkok.

October: Cambodia

I arrived in Bangkok at 1am and, glad to know the city so well by now, strolled through the nighttime chaos to my hostel for the night. I checked in, smoked a leftover joint, chatted with the hostel staff, went to bed at 4am and woke up at 7am to catch my bus into Cambodia. The border crossing was surprisingly smooth and I soon arrived in Siem Reap. I spent several days exploring the city, eating cheap western food, going on pub crawls, learning about the sad history of Cambodia, meeting land-mine sniffing rats, going to the circus, and of course, taking in the ancient ruins of Angkor Wat.

I soon moved south to Battambang. I learned even more about Khmer culture and history through a one day tour where I learned how they make rice wine, rice paper, and fish paste, visited old and new temples, and felt the weight of the killing caves and torture prisons where tens of thousands of Khmer people were slaughtered only 50 years ago.

From Battambang I went on to Koh Rong Sanloem, one of two popular backpacking islands in the south. There were not many people on Sanloem, so it was a very peaceful time spent playing cards, swimming, exploring, and drinking cocktails with a small group of people. It was a bit boring, however, so I ferried over to the other island, Koh Rong for a bit more fun. I spent a week on Koh Rong getting to know everyone at my hostel, playing beach volleyball, going on fishing trips, exploring the island, and once again living on island time.

About halfway through my week a group of us decided to go skinny dipping one night while walking home from a beach bar. Koh Rong is known for having bioluminescent plankton in its waters and we spent a long time in the dark water in awe of the glowing little lights caused by our kicking legs. Eventually we got cold and headed back to shore where we realized the belongings we had excitedly dropped in the sand were all gone. My top and underwear were still around, but my shorts, bag, cash, and phone were all missing in action along with others’ passports, credit cards, and wallets. I ran back to the hostel in my underwear to check my phone’s location from my computer while the rest of the group continued brainstorming and looking around. As I was struggling with my Find My, the rest of the crew shortly walked up carrying the stolen bags explaining that the owner of the bar we’d been at “happened to have known” where the bags got dropped after the cash was taken out of them. We all had our phones and passports and important stuff back so it certainly could have been worse, only, I was suddenly $100 down, and cash-less on an island without an ATM.

Thankfully the hostel accepted card and an Australian guy kindly became my sugar daddy, covering any cash payment I ended up needing the remainder of his stay (since I had an Aussie bank account I could transfer him money from). Other than getting robbed, Koh Rong was still my personal paradise and I continued to enjoy every minute of it. I got especially close with a girl named Amy and we ended up spending every day together relaxing, laughing, journaling, buying beer towers, and sharing all our random thoughts with one another. At the end of our week together we determined we would meet back up in Phnom Penh after I visited Kampot so it wasn’t a goodbye quite yet.

I went to Kampot where Seija decided to meet up with me for a second time in 2024! It was so exciting seeing her again and we spent some time catching up, roaming Kampot, and hanging out at the most rickety waterpark I’ve ever experienced. From Kampot we went to Phnom Penh together although we unfortunately hadn’t booked the same hostel. I took a day to visit the Killing Fields to once again be confronted by the horrific genocide that began right there in Phnom Penh.

Following such a somber tour I had the joy of reuniting with people I met in Koh Rong and Siem Reap, specifically, Amy and Bob! Bob was a Phnom Penh local I had met while he was on holiday in Siem Reap so he joined the backpacker life for a bit and showed us his favorite spots, like the Phnom Penh waterpark! Seija and I met up a couple more times for shopping, chatting, drinks, ice cream, and even a speakeasy. It was eventually another sad goodbye, not knowing where or when we’d see each other next once again.

I had booked a bus back to Bangkok but Amy happened to mention that there was a limit on land entries into Thailand. I had a tattoo appointment and my flight back to the states already scheduled so I decided not to risk it, miss my bus, and purchase a last minute flight instead, meaning one last night partying in Phnom Penh! The next morning I had to say a hungover goodbye to Amy, making us both tear up in the middle of the hostel restaurant.

From there I jumped in a tuk tuk, went to the airport, and flew back to Bangkok. Arriving in Bangkok made me extremely emotional – it felt like a huge full circle moment as I would be starting and ending this magical trip in this city that I had come to adore so much. My last days in Asia, I cried, laughed, got a tattoo, ate my last pad thai, reminisced on all the lessons I’d learned, felt all the feelings, wandered the noisy streets, and held on so tight to the memories of spending 10 months in this incredible region of the world.

It’s hard to express the immense joy and gratitude I felt at the end of this 2024 adventure and I haven’t even been able to share everything in this never-ending blog post. Over the course of 10 months, I hardly ever planned more than a couple weeks in advance, but looking backwards one might guess that everything had been perfectly planned out. I don’t claim to understand how I got so lucky in the things I experienced, the people I met, or the chance encounters that saved my ass. I am only eternally grateful.

If you made it through this extensive review of my Southeast Asian travels, good on you! Thank you and I love you for supporting me (and maybe for being there with me along the way)! I get many questions along the broad spectrum of “tell me about your trip!” and truthfully, in the same way when you are asked “what’s your favorite song?” and you proceed to forget every song you’ve ever heard in your life, sometimes it’s a hard subject for me to talk about.

I hope this brings some life to my adventures that my in-person explanations often fall short of doing and I hope this has been a suitable reintroduction of myself to this blog and its readers! Sorry for the lengthy pause – I look forward to my return to writing on this platform!