Three weeks of having your mind blown every day will make you tired. Combine that with unpredictable insides, crappy hotel rooms (hey, it was a cheap trip) and a 16 hour time zone change - is it really any wonder I can't sleep?

Never mind that the bed is comfortable, the noise of traffic shockingly absent, and the plumbing not just reliable, but safe. My body has spent the last 36 hours hurling across the planet in a blur, but my psyche got left behind the moment we stepped out of the taxi in old Hanoi. Now, at three in the morning I drink schnapps and tea like some hybrid between Miss Marple and Hunter S. Thompson (Dame Edna?) in an effort to slow the physical side of me down enough to let the metaphysical catch up. Are we there yet?

The casualties of our travels were limited. A broken camera lens two days before we flew home. A cold that wouldn't go away and finally did only to be replaced by intestinal distress. A minor tailpipe burn from a scooter, a torn piece of luggage, a migraine (only one, thank god) and a very rare bout of lost patience.

I'm not a big shopper so our souvenirs are limited, too. Some shadow puppets, a few super lightweight cotton shirts, amulets and auspicious items for our home altar, a silk scarf, a few odds and ends - and hundreds of photos, of course. A head full of images, unbelievable sights and smells and tastes, and a long red thread of history running from modern Bangkok to the ancient wonder of Angkor Wat.

Internet was free or cheap and plentiful, but focus was a little harder to find. Sometimes it was available in the lobby of our hotel, other times in tight little shops where teenagers cheered over multiplayer games while seated at rows of those library desks from 1976. Cambodia had slick air conditioned internet cafes that served filtered water, the desks full of inappropriately attired westerners mumbling about football scores or stock prices, Bangkok had French and German hippies, dreadlocked and skinny, checking for cheap flights to Phuket or updating their Facebook pages.

That's only the beginning of what's in my head. It's dark in my neighborhood and there are no horns. If I can go to sleep, I will not wake up to a broadcast of lottery numbers and communist propaganda. My bedroom is larger than the typical home and shop space for a family of four in Hanoi and my drinking water is clean and safe. When we finally resurface, we'll drive to the store, where, in a clean, well lighted place, we'll pay a fixed price for our groceries. I was blissfully free of culture shock on arrival in Southeast Asia, but the return home? We'll just see about that.

Pam blogs about travel and other adventures at Nerd's Eye View. Her Southeast Asia posts are here.