Bloody #$%*!!!

We got up at 5:30 am this morning and bid farewell to Hoi An. Nauseated from lack of sleep, the way-too-early hour, malaria medication, hunger (oh, take your pick), I took a Dramamine pill and passed out on the plane to Ho Chi Minh City (Saigon is officially one area of Ho Chi Minh City, though many people still call the whole city Saigon). Wendy tells me that the plane ride was adventuresome -- wheels seemed unable to engage for a while, bumpy, that kind of thing -- but it was like I wasn't there.

Woke up from a sound sleep to spend a few hours in the city. We went to Ben Thanh Market, and there it happened. My camera, with all the pictures from the markets in Phnom Penh, the mass graves at the Killing Fields, the chilling interior of Tuol Sleng, the grin of our guesthouse manager in Siem Reap, the mysterious stone faces of Kuan Seum Bosal at the Bayon (part of Angkor Wat), the jungle-entwined pillars of Beng Melea, the traffic of Hanoi, the unearthly karsts of Halong Bay, the smiles of the people we kayaked with, the solemn crumbling stones of My Son, the rice paddy workers and water buffaloes in Hoi An, the beam of our industrious tailor -- 715 unedited pictures of the past three weeks are gone.

Someone lifted my digital camera in the market. Spaced out from the Dramamine and lulled into complacency by the past three weeks, I didn't notice when someone unzipped my backpack a few inches, slid a stealthy hand in, and swiped the Sony digital camera that my dad bought in Japan last year. I noticed that my backpack zipper was open a few inches at one point, and thought it strange, but didn't realize what had happened until I went outside and saw a scene I wanted to shoot.

Crouched over my backpack, realization dawning, I felt that flush of adrenaline, tingling in my face and neck. But it passed in a moment, and then I just felt resigned. Depressed. Betrayed.

But hey. I survived three weeks of traveling in a third world region with nothing more than a flu-like blip. I kayaked, climbed ruins, and rode a scooter without incident. In the end, it's enough that I got to see it all.

Additionally, I don't have to sort through and edit and post 715 photos on the web. And you don't have to look through them. Score!

Looking forward to my massage in Bangkok -- cheers til then.