Something Said Go

My decision to go to Cambodia was about as haphazard as my decision to go to Singapore. When I was on the flight to Singapore from LA, I asked ChatGPT, “where are some places I could go within a two hour flight of Singapore?”

I literally had to pull up a map — where was I even going?

GPT — or Gina as I like to call her — gave me a list of places:

Bali — but that was more like 3.5 hours by plane.

Malaysia — I could drive there apparently? But I know nothing about Malaysia.

Thailand — close and beautiful — okay that’s an option. Very romantic.

Then, it suggested: Cambodia — and it showed me a couple pictures of the temples.

As soon as I saw the temples — there wasn’t a question as to where I was going.

I was going to Cambodia.

The temples were so gorgeous — so sacred.

I reasoned with myself for a few minutes (hours): Bali — I’ll go there one day for sure. Same with Thailand. I need to save some trips for my husband lmao.

But Cambodia — this was an impromptu pilgrimage. Something felt right.

When I told people in Singapore where I was going after — most responded with some variation of: “Why?”

“Be very careful — I almost died drinking water. It must’ve been the ice,” a client whispered.

“Are you nervous?” another asked unprompted.

“Make sure to not make eye contact with people when you leave the airport,” someone offered. “That’s where they get you.”

“Okay – wait why, though?” I responded.

“Kidnappings are less rare — but most happen at the airport.”

My god. Okay. Am I being stupid? Am I about to go to Cambodia to die? I thought to myself.

For better or for worse — I didn’t really research my decision all that much — I just stuck with it. I didn’t feel like I needed to qualify it — except that’s a lie. I qualified it every time with, “I’ll probably never have the opportunity to go again — when do you plan a trip just to Cambodia?”

As I headed for the airport that Friday morning in Singapore, my Grab driver (Uber equivalent) did little to ease my worries, “you will probably be fine,” he said.

Cool, great. Probably is always good.

“Thanks so much for getting me here safely sir — have a great day,” I said as I climbed out of the Grab and collected my bags.

I walked into the airport and found the Singapore Airlines counter. A woman helped me check my bag, and I watched it disappear onto the conveyor belt.

No going back now, I thought to myself, as I located my passport and boarding pass.

We’re going to Cambodia.

I had over an hour to kill — I never get to the airport early, but I did this morning because it was my first time flying through Singapore.

I realized I had zero clothes for Cambodia — no temple attire. It was even hotter there than in Singapore, apparently. I’d only packed for work — blazers, a few nice dresses, casual hangout clothes, stilettos. I needed a pair of linen pants or something, I thought to myself.

I saw a Ralph Lauren store — and tried on a pair of pants. They were like $450 — and I looked like a whale. Absolutely not.

I moved onto the Chanel counter — lmao — but I needed new lipstick and mascara. I spent 45 minutes deciding between colors and then, with my little duty free baggy in hand, I started to make my way to the gate.

Not so fast — as I passed a Singaporean specialty breakfast stand called Kaya Toast. Twist my arm, I thought to myself. I stood in line for probably twenty minutes and chugged a water. I was so thirsty.

When it was my turn to pay, I ordered the french toast combo and a hot and an iced kofi (basically tea but also coffee). I placed the empty water bottle on the counter.

The woman goes, “did you drink that, you’re on camera if you try to steal.”

Steal? What?

The big brother effect in Singapore is legitimately insane. There are cameras everywhere. At restaurants. In bathrooms. The city is impeccably clean and beautiful. It is very safe. But no one else seems to think the constant surveillance is a bit odd?

“Oh my goodness, of course — yes, that’s why I put it on the counter… to pay,” I responded to the woman.

Am I going to get arrested before I even GET to Cambodia? My god.

You can go to jail for chewing gum in Singapore — and that’s not an exaggeration :)

Anyways — I take my french toast and kofi(s) and walk to my gate. I soon realize you can’t bring any liquids onto the plane — and so I had to throw my kofi(s) away. Sad.

We board, and I am pleasantly surprised by my seat and seat-mates.

They are a very lovely French couple, who are absolutely obsessed with each other. The man was so unbelievably sweet — making sure his girlfriend was comfortable, holding her hand and kissing her forehead. I’ve literally forgotten what it’s like to be taken care of by a guy — so it was sweet to be reminded. Depressing thought — but a true one.

We take off, and the flight attendants started serving drinks and breakfast. After listening to my five most recent favorite songs (on replay per usual), I checked out the flight map to waste some time.

Time at destination: 1:47am
Flight time remaining: 7:42 hours
The flight path has our plane going somewhere in Europe.

SOMEHOW PANIC DID NOT OVERWHELM ME.

WE MIGHT HAVE A PROBLEM, THOUGH.

Did I book the wrong fucking ticket? Or did I get on the wrong fucking flight? How could this happen? SEVEN HOURS AND FORTY TWO MINUTES REMAINING. Is this why the first class had lie flats? I thought that was weird for a two hour flight —

I calmly got up from my seat and identified the nicest looking flight attendant.

I found him and pulled him aside. “Hey, I’m so sorry to ask this but like is this plane going to Cambodia? Siem Reap? The map says something different,” I whispered to him in the back galley.

“Yes, Siem Reap, Cambodia — you’re on the right plane. We land in 45 minutes,” he responded very kindly, sensing my obvious (and WARRANTED, might I add) anxiety.

“Literally, thank goodness,” I responded and squeezed past the drink carts that were headed towards the back of the plane.

The couple next to me had a great sleep, and we landed safely in Cambodia. Thrilled for them.

As I waited to deplane — I was prepared for the worst.

I made sure all of my valuables were tightly zipped in odd compartments of my carry on.

I made sure no skin was showing — and used a scarf to drape over my shoulders and cover my neck.

I walked off the plane to an airport better than Charlotte Douglas International Airport.

The bathrooms — glorious.

Customs — I was escorted through in less than five minutes.

Baggage claim — my bag was the first to arrive and a man carried it for me.

Now for the dangerous part — getting to my car.

Don’t make eye contact — I reminded myself.

We exited the airport, and I walked twenty feet feet before being greeted by a lovely man who presented me with a cold towel.

“Welcome to Cambodia, bong Caroline,” he said.

Sometimes the best decisions are the ones you can’t explain yet.

Screw what everyone else thinks.‍

I’m in fucking Cambodia.