Ok! Let us return our gazes eastward, and finish up this honeymoon - the trip is almost coming to an end. Boooooo!!! I am already mentally mapping out our next getaway - I'm thinking the American West. Or Argentina! But I'm getting ahead of myself, let's take it one trip at a time here.
While planning the last leg of our itinerary, we were debating between a relaxing beach resort or an adventure to Cambodia to see the Angkor temples. Adventure won, of course, it really always should, but we compromised by booking a resort style hotel in Siem Reap, with a pool and a spa, and decided we'd give ourselves one lazy day in the sun before returning to Vietnam to fly back to the boring old U-S of A.
It was the right choice. Neither of us is very good at sitting still for long periods of time, this gave us juuuust enough time to be bougey, lazy, vacationing lumps before getting bored ant antsy.
Just sub us for these two cats and that's pretty much what the day looked like.
I kicked off the morning relaxing on our little balcony with coffee while Brian slept in, then we tackled the hotel's awesome breakfast buffet which included all the best western brekkie staples: eggs, toast, bacon, muffins, cereals, etc as well as a huge, iced chocolate cake. Ha! Just chilling, in the middle of the breakfast bar, a big old cake. One thing I love travelling between cultures is these small cultural or traditional confusions. Imagining the manager sitting down with the chef saying "What do western tourists like? Oh cake! Let's serve it for breakfast!"
(And for the record, I mean this in a nice way, I assume foreign tourists come to the US all the time and see all the things we're getting wrong.)
After breakfast we lounged poolside and swam around a little bit. We were pretty much the only guests hanging around during the day, the rest had gone off touring, so we had free reign of the common areas to splash around and smooch and be really gross and weird.
Then it was spa time!! We embarked on the most romantic of endeavors, a couple's massage! Have you ever had a massage? Do you like them? I know some people are all about that life but somehow I'd never had one before, unless you count getting my butt cheek massaged in physical therapy which I'm pretty sure you don't.
Now that I've dipped my toesies into the massage water, I can confidently say I don't think I was missing much. Why the hype?!
I honestly think I might not be cut out for them, I am just too high strung. My brain is not good at forced relaxation. All these things that allegedly should be beneficial for an anxiety monster like myself just send me into a tailspin: yoga, meditation, pedicures, apparently massage. The second anyone says "breathe and relax" my brain is like "RELAX! RELAX! Why aren't you relaxing????" and then I panic about not relaxing and just end up mores stressed than when I started, if that's even possible.
(For the record I am VERY aware that I could use some professional psychological help, thanks!)
So anyway, B and I checked in with the spa attendants and were showed to our room which was very peaceful and zen with little jars of stones and plants and gentle music, you know, massagy spa shit, all over the room. I thought we'd be nakey or at least wrapped in a towel - that's how all massages work on TV anyway - but instead they gave us these special outfits to wear which were basically like, one size fits all (aka GIGANTIC) navy blue scrubs. We looked like children dressing up in doctor outfits for Halloween or cast members of Orange is the New Black. Except here Navy was the New Black. You get it. The pants were so big, holding them out to the side looked like Jared the Subway Guy.
BTW: What is he up to?!?!
The room was divided by a curtain, one hospital bed with a face hole in it on each side. We lay on our respective beds and the massage artists (is that what they're called?) got to work. I honestly can't remember a THANG they did to my body because I was too busy going bonks in my mind.
First there was the whole class guilt issue which, I KNOW, get over yourself, Liz, but I was already feeling gross laying by an infinity pool in a resort hotel while literally feet away from me, local families were lacking for clean drinking water and then here I was having this lady who probably makes less in a whole year than I do in fifteen minutes massage me, because I was so stressed and tired from my two week indulgent vacation. And then I had to feel bad about feeling bad and guilty about feeling guilty and cycle through that whole shame spiral for a while, which is honestly your pretty standard look into my brain.
Thennnn I kept getting ticklish and trying not to squirm and worrying about how weird it would be if I farted and THEN I started thinking about Brian laying just across the curtain from me and wondering about, well, not HIM in particular, but you know, men in general and wondering if they become involuntarily aroused during massages and how uncomfortable that must be. And then I just started thinking about boners and giggling because boners are SO FUNNY and like, as much as the female reproductive zone is generally a walking nightmare, at least we don't have to worry about popping a woody at an inopportune time, you know? We can read Outlander on the subway alllll we want and no one will be the wiser. One small victory for the vajayjay...one giant leap for womankind.
So basically I just spent the hour flipping back and forth between anxiety and immaturity. Par for the course!
When it was over, did I feel relaxed? Not really! Did my muscles feel better? Meh. Would I do it again? Honestly, guys, probably not. I just don't get it! Seriously someone tell me why massages are fun.
ALSO seriously, fellas, please tell me a story of an awkward massage boner, because that sounds hilarious.
Post massages, we went full colonial, laying by the pool eating BLT's and drinking Gin & Tonics delivered right to our chaise lounges. It felt really authentico sipping all that quinine just the way god intended.
But, true to form, after a few hours of lounging, we started to get very nutty and spent like, an hour goofing around with the panorama function on our iPhones, taking really strange and unflattering photos of each other.
PS: those basket chairs are actually very uncomfortable and hard to sit in.
See what happens when we spend too much time sitting around? We start to get REAL weird, real fast.
Luckily for us and the world, just as we were starting to get super silly, it was time to jet back up to Hanoi. The flight was two hours of bumpy terror, made ever-so-slightly better by one of the strangest in-flight meals of my life. We were served a roll, a bowl of cole-slaw, a pale tomato wedge and several pieces of cold, pale sausages. I don't know if it was to be like, picnic themed or vaguely American or what they were going for. I shoved it all together to make a lumpy sandwich and it wasn't too bad. It almost had me yearning for another bibimbap!
At least they fed us, which is more than I can say for most flights so I'll take all the pale cold sausages I can get!
Upon arrival we checked in for one more night at the Hanoi Elite, popped down to the Bia Corner for a nightcap and then tucked in for one more sleep in 'Nam. Waah!