Out of date.

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Our first day on the island was pretty cool. We rented mountain bikes and spent the whole day exploring two of the many islands, Don Det and Don Kon. It was a clear warm sunny day which we were very lucky to have. The day before we got there it rained hard for twelve hours, the previous few days before that were more of the same also. The scenery along the Mekong River looked awesome cycling through acres of rice paddocks, lush green palm trees, river rapids, bamboo huts and so much more. Canada, playing the old man as usual, just moaned the whole day and wanted to go back half way. Cecilia’s chain broke and then it started raining. We were about eight kilometers away from home when the rain started and the roads were all mud and gravel. I was soaked with mud from head to toe when I got back, peddling as fast as possible through inch thick muddy gravel paths. Awesome. When we got back, Canada announces he’s lost the room key. I call him a knob (as is the norm) and we get cleaned up and hit the bars. Pool bar round the corner from the guest house was to be our first and last spot. We all ordered food and afterwards I checked out the book shelf in the corner. I’d just finished reading Shantaram in Vang Vieng and was looking for something with a relatively similar theme. I’d picked up Alex Garlands one hit wonder ‘The Beach’ at Jammee’s guesthouse but it was proving to be a dire read after eighty pages. Why the fuck should I be reading a book about a young dick who discovers an island when Im gonna be visiting them for real myself in January anyway? So I stumble upon a book titled Sonic Boom about Napster, P2P and the battle for the future of music. It was a nonfiction hard back but it gleamed out at me as it sat on the shelf. I traded my copy of the beach with 20,000 kip and sat down to read the preface by Herbie Hancock of all people. There was no mention of bit torrents in there or Limewire or the term ‘file sharing’ I began to question it sources so I checked the front sleeve. The book was printed in 2001. D’oh!

The tourist tally is scarce this time of year or almost anywhere in Asia for that matter due to it being the rainy season. The travelers you come across tend to be the looser gap year types or older couples, the latter being the more interesting to communicate with. As always, a conversation brews between fellow travelers about where they’ve been and when they’re going home and as tedious as it is you listen to others blurt out their life stories and how they loved India and Laos is a cess pit and Thailand isn’t what it used to be etc, etc. It becomes routine and sometimes it bores me to tears. I almost feel like writing down my whole story, printing it out and copying it down to paper so I have to refrain from telling people how I immigrated to Australia only to be knocked back by immigration for lack of skills in the work place. It tires me explaining my story because although pretty remarkable my achievements were, my main goal was crushed, and that was: The permanent moving of countries. I’m not bitter that it didn’t happen and I’m not crushed I had to leave. I ended up seeing more of Australia than most Australians and had some of the best times of my entire life out there, but I don’t like to remind myself that I failed on the most important aspect of that trip overall.

The islands have a curfew, following suit with the rest of the country. All pubs and clubs close at midnight.
Two beers later, we wandered soberly back to the guest house to watch Family Guy. Within ten minutes Canada is snoring loudly beside me. I realize just how much I’m not gonna miss him when I leave on Tuesday.

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