Race to Cambodia, part II

In Chantaburi I decided to quickly have some passport photos made, which would speed things up when we made it to the border.

I made it back to the bus just in time, though the only space left was in the back next to two monks. Of course this excited me a great deal. On the way to Aranyaprathet I attempted to talk with them with little success, though what I could understand was interesting. Both of them were returning from a democratic rally in support of Thaksin, a former prime minister who had recently been deposed. The Thaksin situation is a divisive issue in Thailand, and he may not have been that great a leader, but after being in China encountering real free speech and activism is always refreshing, especially coming from monks.

We made it to Aranyaprathet at about 6:45 pm--cutting it very close--and were shuffled into a city bus that would take us to the border town. About 7:15 now. We got the border town quicker than we expected, but still had to take a Tuk-Tuk to the crossing.

We knew this would be the most perilous stage of our journey, since the driver would no doubt try and take us to the "Cambodian embassy" to for "visas" instead of the border post, which is where we were supposed to go. Though we made it absolutely clear where we wanted him to take us, it was to no avail and once he turned off the main road I felt something was wrong. He pointed us to a small building saying "visa," after which Ken immediately protested with Dan and I soon following suit. Several people came out of the building, motioning for us to come inside. Thanks to our belligerence we soon won out, and the driver just smiled and turned around.

7:30 now. The border area was a dirty, disorganized no-man's land, beset with con men and peddlers. After exiting Thailand, we walked along a boulevard straddled by ugly casinos and other establishments that only became legal when it was impossible to determine whose laws they had to follow. We stopped at the guard post so I could get my visa, which was not difficult, though I had to pay several dollars more than Ken and Dave did. Traveling to the immigration point were several hundred Cambodian migrant workers returning from their days work on the Thai side. They had a special gate to go through, while we were guided towards the foreigners entrance. I was through immigration at 7:45.

Outside immigration it was a complete dystopian circus. There were no buses and policemen, peddlers and children were wandering around offering their transportation services and goods. One cop took my suitcase as if to guide me to a car, but at Ken's thoughtful urging I wrestled it back. The taxis may have looked like gypsy cabs, but the government still got a large share of the fares and the police were in cahoots with the drivers and eager to make their cut. We found a driver to take us to Siem Reap and got out of the cesspool quickly.

On our 2-hour $35 cab ride we finally could sit back and relax. Assuming we had not just been abducted by the Cambodian mob, we had made it through the worst. I took a moment to admire the nothingness that I saw along the highway. Though it was night, you could feel how completely rural the country was. Two days later I would travel the same road in daylight and confirm this. While Thailand had a lively tropical, almost-Caribbean vibe, Cambodia was the exact opposite--it had not been invited to the perpetual S.E. Asian party. It looked felt like a Third-world country, but of course that probably had something to do with the Khmer Rouge.

We were soon in Siem Reap, which reminded me of Gatlinburg or a poor-man's Disney with its complete inauthenticity. It was basically just a tourist town that served Angkor. We went to the closest hotel that looked cheap. We had crossed the finish line at around 10 pm and our 12-hour journey was over. It would be hard for Angkor Wat to top that.

Leb Wohl.