Surviving Cambodia Pt.3: Down the Rabbit Hole

The Hunt

After having made it through the gates of Mordor at the border in Poipet, surviving a lady boy attack in Siem Reap and getting turned around at the Vietnam border, I honestly didn’t think things could have got any worse. Yet here I was, alone in a foreign country with ten dollars left to my name after being robbed. I had become overwhelmed with dread and began frantically thinking of a solution that didn’t involve me having to call my family to tell them that I lost all the money they gave me to visit Cambodia in the first place.

I couldn’t think of anything to do except go for a walk and find a place to meditate. I quickly gathered my things and began walking towards the Temples of Angkor Wat thinking it would be a good place to find my center and regain some balance. The walk was longer than I thought it would be and even though I was intent on going all the way to the temples I didn’t make it there. I found a place off the side of the road that led into a large patch of jungle and went in. The heat was unbearable by this point and my shoes had paper thin soles, so I figured this place was as good as any to stop.

I head into the jungle and five minutes later I walk by a family living out of a tent made of sheets. I say hello to them and ask to take a picture of their family. They oblige and I offer them a couple of dollars as a courtesy then continue my way.

 There was a nice, cozy looking spot next to a huge pond that I noticed so I walk on over and begin meditating. About five minutes later I feel a tap on my shoulder, I turn around to see a little girl smiling down at me. She says to me very politely, “aren’t you going to take my picture too.” I of course can’t say no to a little girl, so I take a selfie with her and give her another dollar. She then offers to have me over for dinner with the people at the tent and I at first say yes. But as we walked back to her camp, I began to freak out again about not having money and I tell the girl I can’t stay for dinner because I have an emergency I need to tend to. 

 If I stayed any longer, I felt I would be wasting valuable time, so I left quickly and hurried back to Pub Street to start asking around about jobs. The year prior I had done an online certification school for TESOL and got my certification, so I thought I’d start by asking around about schools. I asked a handful of people, but they told me I needed a work Visa and I that I also had to stay for at least six months. I couldn’t stay for six months because I had a job and a court date back in America to go back to, so there was no point in getting a work Visa.

I then began looking for jobs at some random stores and travel agencies that I walked by but every one of them looked nervous about my inquiries. I did this for a few hours before heading back to my hostel feeling heavy with the weight of defeat.

Night had finally come, and I began to feel my time quickly ticking away. My anxiety was building up again until I could no longer sit in my room at the hostel lost in my thoughts. I threw on some clothes and went out to walk around Pub Street thinking maybe it would help me get out of my head. As soon as I enter one of the main streets, I notice a man with a shaved head, covered in tattoos with skin as pale as mine and he was handing out flyers while dancing around the street amongst the crowds. He obviously wasn’t from Cambodia, so I walk by him as he hands me a flyer.

I stop and turn around to ask him where I can find a job doing what he’s doing and to my surprise he replies, “Are you serious?”. I tell him, “hell yes I am”. He then calls over a gentleman wearing a tank-top with the name of an infamous club in Siem Reap emblazoned on the front of it and he was wearing the most smug and annoying smile I’ve ever seen on a person as he comes running over from a crowd of girls.

The gentleman introduces himself as Guy and after listening to my situation he asks me if I’m willing to work immediately. I reply with what I thought was humor, asking “do duck walk bare feet?”

He stared at me with a stone-cold look in his eyes and I began wondering if I just screwed up my opportunity for a job. But, before I have a chance to dwell on my thought, he begins explaining the details of our new agreement. I was told I would get a free room and eight dollars a night after working two nights for free. I still had two nights paid at my hostel, so I thought that it worked out perfectly. I agreed to the terms and was handed a large pile of red flyers then told to begin handing them out. Just like that, I was transported from one reality to another.

The first two days of work flew by quickly and I was thoroughly enjoying my new job. I was given free drinks while I worked and after handing out an adequate number of flyers I would go inside and dance on the dance floor with the guests. Sometimes, when the place would get packed, we would play games like limbo, give out free shots and pour alcohol down the patron’s throats like we were lost in the rapture of Dionysus in ancient Greece.

If I was going to have to work while backpacking Southeast Asia, then this was the most ideal situation I could think of. I didn’t have to tell my family that my money was stolen, I  would be able to save money to get back to Thailand, I would get to enjoy the party scene of the country for free and the best part was, I got to stay longer.  I was overfilled with pride at how I handled my situation and the ease in which it came. But like they say, “pride comes before the fall” and, “things aren’t always what they seem.”

Introduction to Slave Labor

My last two days at the hostel came to an end and it was time for me to finally leave the comfort of my quiet abode. I didn’t really know how to get to the new hostel because no one gave me directions, so I had the front desk agent look it up on his computer. I went to the place he told me, but it was the wrong place, so I had to have the front desk guy at the wrong hostel do the same thing and look up where to go.

This was another scorching hot day, except now I’m wearing a forty-pound bag and I’ve been walking around for an hour and a half. I felt as though I might not make it to the hostel because I was going to faint, but after another half hour of walking someone picked me up on their motorcycle and drove me the rest of the way.

The hostel was hidden at the back of a dirt road and was right next to a Buddhist Monastery. I walked down the road into my new home and found someone to help me. They put me up in a temporary room to sleep for the night and it was beyond disgusting. It was where the workers lived, and it was overrun with people’s dirty clothes and personal belongings. There was hardly any room to walk and the bathroom had mud all over the floor from people tracking in dirt.

I just ignored everything, napped for a few hours and went to work. I was excited to finally get paid, so I was in an exceptionally good mood. The night went amazingly well, it was a packed house, and everyone seemed to be happy. When my shift ended at 1am I went upstairs to get paid but I was told they had no money for me... Blood turned to ice in my veins.

I went to speak cordially but ended up yelling, “What the hell do you mean you don’t have any money for me!?”

I was told to speak to Guy, my manager, and ask him about why I’m not being paid. I hunted Guy down like a wolf hunting its prey. When I finally found him, I immediately came at him quite aggressively and asked why I wasn’t being paid. He told me the bar hadn’t made enough money so they couldn’t pay me out, but that the next day I would be paid double. I reluctantly accepted the situation as it was and returned to the hostel.

The next morning, I was moved to my new living quarters and it was even worse than the one I was in the night before. It smelled like an ancient locker room filled with mold and mummified feet, there was barely any room to move around because of two long rows of bunk beds that filled up every inch of the walls on both sides of the room and there were clothes thrown about everywhere. The bathroom was pretty much in the same condition as the other one just with a little extra odor to maximize the full experience of living in a nightmare.

My horror continued when I went to climb onto my new bunk bed and there was a shirt laying directly on my ladder that smelled unmistakably like someone wiped their ass with it. Not only that, but I was assigned a top bunk which was situated right next to a window giving full view of my personal space for the hostel’s entire public area to see. Continuously opening the shades to this window while I’m sleeping would continue to be a way for my bunk mates to haze the only American at the hostel throughout most of my stay there.

Even though by this point I was clearly in over my head, it didn’t matter to me. I was in fact excited to find myself in a horrifying situation that pushed the boundaries of my comfort. It is said that comfort is the enemy of growth and this was a golden opportunity for me to break myself down so that I could rebuild and remold myself anew, with new perspectives of not only myself but also the world. How lucky I was to be given an opportunity to transcend my limitations and self-importance.

Besides my positive outlook about the situation, there wasn’t much to be optimistic about as my situation would only continue to stagnate. This whole game of paying me some nights and not others would continue for about a week or so, and even when I was paid, I was forced to sacrifice eating some days so that I could save money for a bus ticket back to Thailand. As you would expect, that formula wasn’t feasible seems how I needed to drink alcohol every night in order to maintain a cheerful and excited attitude while promoting the bar.

That was another situation that began hurdling out of control. I tried staying sober while working some nights, for the sake of my health, but I quickly found out by day four or five that this was not possible. I couldn’t get into the music or dance or be joyful enough and I was getting talked to by my new nemesis, Guy, about my lack of enthusiasm. Thus, began the internal battle with myself as to whether I should embrace my dark side. After all, sometimes the only way out is through, and if you can’t beat them, join them.

A Nose-Dive Down the Rabbit Hole

A week into my new situation I found myself starving, sleep deprived, I had lost my voice by day four and It would stay gone for a week after I would eventually leave Cambodia, and by this time I had a family member try to contact me on Facebook messenger. In addition to that, I had also started a new routine of constant, non-stop partying. When the club I worked at closed at 1am, I would venture out and visit other clubs and party until five or six in the morning.

One such club was a notorious hangout called Temple which was fully stocked with techno music, laser lights and dance platforms that I would dance on for what seemed like forever as I was lost in the full experience of myself and the environment. I had finally embraced my situation and it was becoming easier for me to navigate. Everything would have been perfect except for the time limit on my visa and the fact that I wasn’t able to save any money or even eat some days. It was because of those two things that I decided to reach out to the family member who contacted me and let them know about my situation. But to my dismay, although unfortunately not surprising, my family didn’t believe me.

In the moment when I realized I wasn’t being taken seriously was the moment I realized the picture I had painted for the public. Trying to keep my situation to myself I never posted anything about needing money on Facebook or social media because I knew people would want to help and I wanted to take responsibility and find my own way out of the situation. But, with all my posts on social media and no background information it looked to my family like I blew all my money on partying.

I had to laugh out loud to myself at how ridiculous of a situation I got myself into by not communicating or being honest and just asking for help in the beginning. Now, my situation just got worse. I realized a large part of my confidence came from a subconscious confidence in the fact that my family would help me out if things ever got out of control, which by now they had. But now, I realized help was not as certain as I thought. I had to confront the reality that help was not on its way and I was indeed alone in figuring a way out of this mess I got myself into.

When my family member told me that everything would be okay because I’m a “survivor”, I knew what that meant, and I knew that I was going to have to come up with a new idea to make some extra money. It turns out, the false sense of security I had in the belief that help was just a phone call away was a hindrance to the unlocking of my full potential.

Later that night I went to work, and we had a UV light dance party at our club, so I donned a black light, painted moustache and then went out and did my normal routine of post work partying.  I ended up at some hole-in-the-wall bar and I was sitting with a Scottish guy named Robbie who was rolling a joint for us to smoke during our engaging conversation. In the middle of our conversation a British guy strolled in and started talking to us. He told us he had 50 milligrams of liquid ketamine and wanted to do it with us, we just needed to find a place to cook it. Of course, he already had a place in mind.

Robbie and I look at each other and I gave the nod of approval. I was just being nihilistic and embracing my hopelessness, I don’t know what made Robbie follow me but we both went forward. The British guy, who now introduced himself as Blaine, took us into the kitchen of a hostel nearby that was closed and we went in to start cooking. I turned on the stove and used a lighter to ignite it and I ended up burning my hand from the ensuing exploding flame that woke up some people sleeping in a tent near the kitchen. Blaine was holding a huge metal bowl and I was standing over a lit stove when some small lady began screaming at us in Khmer, which I’m sure translated to “Get the hell out of here”.

All three of us scrambled our way out of the kitchen and Blaine is still holding the metal bowl in his hands. He tells us about a field nearby that we can go to and make a fire to cook the ketamine now that we have a bowl. Robbie turns to me and says, “this guy is completely mental. I’m getting out of here. You coming with me?”

“No way. I want to follow this rabbit and see how far down the rabbit hole it goes”, I reply.

Robbie and I part ways and I continue to follow the rabbit down its hole. Blaine and I stop by a liquor store to buy some lighters and water then we head out to the field he told me about. We walk down a long dark alley with a few houses on each side of the road until we come upon a long row of tall bushes. Blaine walks through it like Alice walking through the looking glass into Wonderland. I follow right behind him.

When I make it to the other side of the bushes, I find myself standing in the middle of a field, about half the size of a football field. Blaine and I walk out into an open area and begin setting up a little spot for us to make a fire. It took us about ten or fifteen minutes to get it going but when we did, we heard an odd noise coming from behind us. I look back and see a huge Ox standing at the fence line staring at us. Blaine askes me if we are staring at an Ox and I let him know he’s not hallucinating yet because we haven’t done the ketamine, so yeah. It was at this moment that I started questioning whether he was already high or not.

After twenty or so minutes of trying to get the fire hot enough to cook the ketamine, we finally give up because a person from one of the houses came outside and started staring at us. We finally got nervous after having an Ox and a person staring at us for half an hour, so we continued looking for a new spot to cook the K. At this point Blaine flagged down a Tuk-Tuk driver and paid him ten dollars to take us to his house. I had serious qualms about him doing this, but he seemed to know what he was doing, or at least he seemed like he did this all the time.

The tuk-tuk driver took us all the way to his house and walked us over to his hen house to let us use his stove. About 10 minutes later the man’s wife comes outside to see what’s going on and at this point Blaine is looking more like a crack head to me and less like an adventurous tourist. Perhaps it was the light in the hen house now allowing me to see Blaine in all his psychotic glory. Either way, I had no idea where I was and it was 2am, so I was in this until the end.

Blaine all of a sudden yells out in excitement, “we have 2 grams of Ketamine bro, at least!”. He’s holding the metal bowl he stole, and it’s covered in white powder. “Give me your phone!”, he yells at me.

I hand over my phone and he chopped up two large lines. The gentleman tuk-tuk driver was staring at us with a look of horror. He had no idea what he just invited into his home and I told Blaine we need to get out of this man’s house. We just disrespected his home and my guilt was eating me up. Blaine says okay but hands over my phone with one line still left on it and he tells me we will leave when I do the line. I of course oblige. After doing the line my eyes water up and I for some reason turn around facing the tuk-tuk driver and I bow down to him. I wanted to show my reverence and apologize to him for our actions.

As I sit on one bended knee, bowing before this wonderful man who took two strangers into his home to cook drugs, I began to lose my sense of self and I began melting into the ground. I couldn’t move. Blaine then grabs me after who knows how long and drags me to the tuk-tuk to get in. We hop in and I have no idea what’s going on at this point. I knew we were in a tuk-tuk and we were heading somewhere but I didn’t know where. After some time passes, I ask Blaine where we’re going, and he tells me he has no clue.

You don’t need to be a seasoned traveler to know this situation is highly suspect. Here we are, two foreigners in a notoriously dangerous country, completely comatose from drugs, riding in a tuk-tuk at 2 or 3 in the morning and we have no clue what’s happening around us. I finally tell the tuk-tuk driver to drop us off wherever we were, and he says something back to me that sounded like an alien language, so I just say okay and just go along with the ride.

Not long after I ask the driver to stop, he pulls over and then tells us to get out. We were in the middle of some residential area that had no visible reason for us to stop. I get out and start dancing without having any control over my body. I was just trying to walk but I couldn’t move my legs without them moving left and right like a paraplegic attempting to dance to hip hop music. It became so frustrating that I sat next to a wall that I laid my head against so I could close my eyes.

The moment my eyes closed I was propelled through a worm hole, or a tunnel, at light speed and it was covered in a myriad of colors. I then felt, or saw myself, sitting cross legged at the very tip of a lotus flower that was in a constant state of bloom. I sat, it continued to bloom and then I felt nothing. At this point I must have blacked out, but I don’t know for how long. I came back to consciousness when I felt something touch my left butt cheek, so I opened my eyes. When they opened, I saw the entire world being put back together with blocks, like an assembly line of invisible robots working as fast as they could to rebuild my perception of reality with Lego’s.

Once my reality was rebuilt and I was able to gain some sort of cognizance as to what was going on, I look down to my left and see a hand trying to pull out my phone. I slap the hand like a woman deterring a pervert’s advances and look up to see a man sitting next to me against the wall. When I look over to see what’s happening to Blaine, I see him doing the same thing and there’s another man next to him as well. It was apparent that I was going to have to pull my shit together to get us out of this situation, so I muster all my strength and focus and force myself to stand up.

The moment I make it on my feet I start dancing again. I realize I must be operating mostly from my subconscious and muscle memory which is why I have no control over my limbs. I dance for eight hours a night, so my body is still feeling the need to dance even though it needs to be feeling the urge to be running. We are obviously in a bad spot and a potentially worse situation, so I dance over to Blaine. Since I couldn’t make myself stop dancing, I just went with it and allowed myself to dance. For some reason though, allowing myself to continue dancing didn’t stop it, instead, it turned into something akin to an epileptic ostrich doing the robot; but I paid no mind and eventually made it over to Blaine. I grabbed him by the hand to lift him off the ground then told him we are walking and getting out of wherever we’re at.

Before we’re able to leave, one of the men grabbed Blaine and told him he owed him $100. Apparently, or allegedly, Blaine at some point offered this man more money than we possessed in order to get us wherever we were at. I then hear Blaine ask the guy what he’s going to do about it if he doesn’t pay him. The man pulls out a knife and yells, “I will kill you mother fucker!!!”. Undoubtedly, still off my rocker from the Ketamine, I start laughing hysterically at the situation.

Feeling partially responsible for Blaine’s safety, I ask the gentleman how much money it will take for him to not murder my friend. He tells me to give him what I have in my wallet, which was seven dollars. I begrudgingly hand over all my money and grab Blaine by the arm and tell him its time to go. To my surprise he doesn’t question me. After witnessing his exchange with a man ready to murder him, I didn’t expect him to be so obedient.

The sun was coming up when we started walking which helped us gain our bearings. After walking for an hour or so, I noticed that Blaine somehow lost his shirt, a pair of pants and one shoe. I yell some profanity at him asking him why he has no shirt, only one shoe and why he has shorts on when he was wearing pants earlier. But above all, why was he still carrying around a large metal bowl covered in powdered ketamine while looking like a crack head in Cambodia? He laughed and pointed out the fact that I myself still had black light paint on my face and was covered in dirt. How he and I didn’t get caught is beyond me but after two or more hours of walking we finally made it to his hostel.

 Blaine takes me to his room, but he had a roommate there and the roommate was not interested in dealing with his crazy drug addled brain or mine, so I was told to lay in the hammock on the patio. Blaine rolls me up a joint, pulls out ten dollars cash and hands it to me, then starts playing the most beautiful piano music I ever heard. He hands me the joint and tells me to listen. When the song is finished, I was in tears, completely stunned by what I heard. Blaine then tells me that it was him and begins to show me a ton of his videos on YouTube. Each video causes me to weep and I began to feel like I was in the presence of one of an insane savant. I tell him that after everything we just went through, listening to his music was like a spiritual experience. Who knew that this completely mental person was indeed a genius?

I didn’t feel like falling asleep at some stranger’s house, so I told Blaine I was leaving. Before I left though, he told me that we should go into business selling ketamine together, he said we could make a lot of money. I didn’t want anything more to do with this guy when I left but I couldn’t help but think about what he said. I got a tuk-tuk to take me home from the ten dollars Blaine gave me and I slept on the idea of selling ketamine.

When I woke up for work, I obviously didn’t feel well, but the idea of making extra money on the side had just become more lucrative to me as I dragged myself out of my bed. When I was walking to work later that night, I was approached by a tuk-tuk driver who wanted to sell me marijuana, as they usually do. I turned him down and walked away, but as I continued onward, I had a revelation; I knew how I was going to make extra money to get back to Thailand… 

… To Be Continued