Not a regular commute
So how’s your birthday going so far?” shouted one of the two Australian girls. “Still trying stay positive,” I answered and we all burst into hysterical laughter while being shaken and shuffled in the back of the truck like a kaleidoscope across both the axes.No wait, that’s pretty; rather shaken and shuffled violently like a deodorant can with only air left to spray out. Commuting in a truck was the least of our expectations but we knew that adventure was not going to let us drift off into paradise without a real welcome.
My hostel in Koh Rong was a 30 minute road commute from Serendipity beach in Sihanoukville. Not a bad deal, I thought. Better than wasting two hours of my birthday waiting for the next ferry. We were taking the road less travelled here sure, but, how bad could it be? If anything, lounging on the comfy bus seat would give me a chance to wipe the sweat from the long journey off of me. And so, I and two Australian tourist girls, who were heading to the same hostel as I, agreed to book the bus to our hostel.
Any minute, I thought, a mini bus would come plodding onto the sandy-stony beach to whisk us away. As we dragged our bag to the end of the sandy area, I saw a truck approaching us in reverse. Still lost in thought, my vision grazed through this weird truck,
deeming it irrelevant to ponder over. Minutes passed by but no minivan showed up, rather the truck kept inching closer. I conversed with myself- ‘I might be wrong here, Utsavi, but is that supposed to be our bus?’ ‘No, you’re silly, Utsavi. How can this be a bus?’
I sized up the truck with incredulity and horror. It was the kind of truck that has a massive seating/storage area in the back, the kind I had so often seen transporting goods in Mumbai. That’s when the truck parked right in front of us clearing any confusion we had. We were going to be stuffed in the back like livestock and transported like goods. Still confused, probably angry, tired, we boarded the truck.
There were no grids or barricades inside the truck to keep our bags secured and stable in one place. Neither were there any seating demarcations that would keep our bodies in one position either. Just two long sittings rows facing each other. So we each sat, with our buttocks on the edge of the seat cushion (thank God the seats were cushioned) as one hand clasped the handle of our giant suitcase and the other our backpack/purse. ‘Okay, rough start there, but we are all set now,’ the three of us communicated via reassuring glances. But we had spoken too soon.
The next 20 minutes became an unforgettable part of our trip. The road leading to the hostel was extremely barren, stony and unconstructed. I don’t think there was any official road transportation there because there didn’t seem to be a road! We were simply being driven through a barren stretch of land with an abundance of wild greenery around. But before we could express our shock, the truck started to move violently, so much that we couldn’t hold our places or luggage together anymore. We started gliding from one end of the seat to the other with our bags. After a point, we stopped caring about our bags and let them fly in whichever direction the truck took us. My exact thought while being disheveled like that was- ‘I’m going to sue the guy who promised me a bus but threw me inside this dirty truck.’ But who was I kidding? That was never going to happen. We laughed hysterically throughout the journey- at the situation, our condition, the truck and the unbelievability of this whole event.
Our systems were totally shaken up and bags badly damaged by the time we reached our destination. But that was still not our hostel! Upon asking the staff of a nearby hotel, we realized we had to walk another 15 minutes. So we began dragging our bags through the sandy beach towards Coconut Bungalows, completely exhausted by now. And, if things weren’t bad already, it started to rain! We were drenched and had to wait in a cabana for the rain to stop in order to resume. After much disappointment, and probably giving up on my birthday, we finally reached our hostel after half an hour.
Solo traveling is very rewarding and that is a well-known fact. But, when I took to documenting my travels, I decided to not leave out the bad stuff because life is never too good to be true. This was not the first time I had it tough during one of my solo travels.
However, I learnt that it isn’t about things falling perfectly to plan and schedule or having the best chance encounters. Of course, a lot of it is that, but a substantial portion is quite the opposite- playing by the ear and having some ups and downs, in my case, some
literal ones too. Not all moments are cathartic or surreal. Sometimes it is downright ‘I wish I was at home rather than dragging my bag on an island that I don’t know appears where on the map’. And that is fine. Traveling teaches many things (especially to my mother who now knows I am capable of returning home in one piece) but traveling solo teaches more.
Things going right teaches a lot just like things going absolutely downhill. But what it all comes down to, is if you’re up for an adventure, then life will never disappoint. Our hostel, which I talk about here, was a sweet reward for the test we had gone through. As we were greeted by our serene hostel, the three of us communicated again via reassuring glances- the hard part was over.