Cambodia

Cambodia hit differently from the moment I arrived in Siem Reap. The heat was thick and the air smelled of rain and old stone, and before I'd even settled in I was already out at Angkor — walking the long causeway toward that main facade, staring up at the five towers and genuinely not knowing what to say. No photo prepares you for the scale of it. The sandstone goes dark grey under overcast sky and the whole complex just sits there in total silence except for the wind through the palm trees.

Ta Prohm was the one that got under my skin the most. Those silk-cotton trees have forced their roots through every crack in the walls over centuries, and standing underneath them felt genuinely eerie — roots as thick as a man's torso wrapped around carved doorframes, the canopy cutting the light into thin white slices. Bayon was the other surprise: dozens of stone faces carved into every tower, and you only notice them gradually as you walk closer through the rubble-strewn grounds.

Phnom Penh was a different pace entirely. I went out late one night and found the Independence Monument lit up gold against a deep blue sky, fountains going, the Cambodian flag catching the breeze. The food throughout the whole trip was something I wasn't expecting to love as much as I did — green curry, papaya salad, spring rolls with peanut sauce. Simple places, good food, the kind of meal where you just sit and keep ordering.