Power, corruption and lies

Wednesday, 17/10/2012 – 125 A.D.

The tactic to delay the anti-malarial until after breakfast worked and I wolfed down my morning grub. And guess who we saw sitting outside waiting for their bus to the floating market? Yep, the German lads who we'd done our best to avoid the previous evening. After making smalltalk to go to our room to get packed, when we came back down at 8:00 they were still there, having been stood up by their ride for half an hour. And so we made some further conversation, wondering if these guys were actually going to end up in Cambodia with us!

Cambodia...oh strange and trecherous land! What do we really know about it? Not a great deal, as it happens. The country is effectively what remains of the all-powerful Khmer empire that dominated the surrounding lands up until the 13th century when it was plundered by its neighbours, and it's been downhill since then. It caught some of the fallout from the Vietnam war at the end of the 1960s, then was plunged into civil war that would last in various forms all the way up until 1991. The rule of the communist Khmer Rouge under Pol Pot was an extremely brutal period in history, but let's not fixate on that. What I'm trying to get at by stating these facts is that Cambodia (or Kampuchea as it's still sometimes called) hasn't really been open to tourism in the past few decades, but apparently more and more are flocking there these days. Including us.   

At 08:15 our chariot awaited. It came before the German guys' ride and finally we bid them adieu. We had a small minibus with about 10 seats, all of which bar 2 were occupied. Fortunately Tim got to ride up front with the driver and I was in my own row and next to the combined luggage, probably the best place to be. We'd be packed into this vehicle for the next four hours, though given the size and traffic density of Bangkok it would probably take us at least two to beat the city limits. As Tim nodded off to sleep up front, I found myself watching a vaguely arty Finnish film called The Leningrad Cowboys Go America - pretentious? Moi?

We were allowed a ten minute stop-off at a petrol station to stretch our legs and empty our bladders, but apart from that it was an uninterrupted trip through the south eastern wilderness of Thailand. Then things got a little more interesting. The minibus was brought to a halt at a small cafe that looked just like the thousand or so we'd seen alongside the same dusty road from Bangkok. All of the travellers from our minibus spilled out, as did those from another minibus - it may have been following us all the way from the capital, I have no idea. In fact, I had no idea how any of this stuff was supposed to work, it was just a case of wait and see, and keep the mean don't-mess-with-me expression upon my semi-sunburnt face.

We were at a cafe, so of course we were offered the chance to buy some food while we were there - how convenient! Thing is, Tim and I had been snacking hard in the last hour, so we weren't hungry and therefore not spending any money. A couple of minutes later, a man claiming to be Cambodian and our best friend and calling himself Ken said that because we were booked with a different tour company to everybody else, we were going to the border on a separate bus, and we were going now. Erm, who were we to argue? Sure enough, our minibus was there and Ken was ever the friendly chap as he piled us and our luggage inside. Alarm bells were ringing as Tim kept the guy talking with all kinds of smalltalk nonsense. Me? I scanned the periphery for anything untoward. Ken then went ahead and slapped a couple of small stickers on our T-shirts that denoted we were with his travel firm. They were green with "AZ" written in blue marker. We had no idea what it meant. 

A couple of minutes down the road, we pulled into the Consulate for the Kingdom of Cambodia in Thailand. We'd told our tour company back in Bangkok that we did not have a visa (we knew we could get them at the border) and it seemed they had passed this info on to our new friends. Ken told us that we could get our visas here and I asked him how much they cost (even though I knew the answer). Ken replied that I should talk to the consulate staff about that, and when I persisted with my question he finally admitted that the official price should be $20 (which was correct), but I should still talk to the staff about it. By the way, I should point out that Cambodia's currency is the riel, but you can also pay for everything with US dollars. In fact, in many circumstances, such as at hotels, US dollars is the preferred currency.

Anyway, back to the Cambodian consulate, the inside of which resembles a rundown post office. Besides another couple of mugs from some far off land, Tim and I are the only two visa applicants in there. Ken, who is getting quieter by the minute, directs us to the guy at the window and we get visa application forms to fill in, though Ken points out we don't need to complete the parts about our occupation or any of the other more difficult questions. So, we've brought our passport photos and we take them, along with the completed forms, to the window, where the guy asks us for payment of $30 each. Errr, no! Isn't the official fee $20? He says this is for express service. Okey-dokey! Fortunately we'd done our research and knew that we'd have all kinds of scams thrown at us, most notably the inflated visa charge. An extra $10 each is not the end of the world, but when you're used to being a gringo in far-off lands 24-7, you feel the urge to stand up for yourselves and show a bit of pride and defiance. Therefore we insist that $20 is the official price of the visa - we've read up about it and everything. Admin guy at the window eventually gets tired of our defiance and hands back our forms and passports and tells us to get our visas directly at the border. Fine by us!

So where's Ken now? Oh right, practically back on the bus already, quietly seething that the little express visa scam did not work. As we board the minibus, he barely says a word to us, the best-mateyness of earlier long having disappeared. A minute later and he says we have to get out now and talk to his mate who is looking shifty outside. As we disembark and grab our luggage, there is an exchange between Ken and mate, probably saying something highly derogatory towards us, but in reality we're great because we beat his scam! The minibus drives off and New Guy tells us to walk down the street and turn left to get to the border. That's it. Errr, we have a few questions, mate, the main one being what we're supposed to do after crossing the border into Cambodia? New Guy says that a guy like him will spot our AZ stickers and guide us to the bus that we need to take us to Siem Reap. Really? What does this guy look like? "He will see you," is the best I get in response. This isn't about things being lost in translation, it's about customer service!

We grip our luggage straps and head for the border crossing, ignoring the chaos and poverty that surrounds the area. It's an unsettling place and you want to pass through it as quickly as possible, even though we do  not know who will greet us on the other side. Getting through Thai immigration is pretty straightforward, but we're a bit uncertain what to do next. It feels like we're in a no man's land of casinos and street traders, which we effectively are - gambling is illegal in Thailand, but they have set up this special zone on the border so that they can easily slip across for a flutter. Doesn't help us though.

We eventually spot the sign for the office of Border Control, which must be where we get our visas. I am relieved upon entering to see that the official tourist visa price is listed above the desk - $20. Great. Tim and I pull out the forms that we got at the consulate and immediately an official gives us completely different ones to fill out, saying those that we had are not correct. Bloody good job we didn't go for the $10 mark-up then! Tim gets first digs of the pen and completes his new form first. As I am completing mine he comes over to me and says that the fee for the visa is $20 plus 100 Thai baht. What? 100 baht? Where did that come from? Turns out the border guards have a piece of paper that they put under the nose of the applicant - written in orange highlighter is the fee for £20 + 100 baht. This is b*llshit! It was bad enough getting scammed by the tour guide and his mate at the consulate, but now we are essentially dealing with corrupt government officials! That 100 baht will go straight into their pockets! I'm not having it and we explain that we spent all of our baht before crossing the border because why would we need it if we're leaving Thailand and entering Cambodia, eh-eh-eh? The tactic works, just like the internet says - kick up a polite fuss for a while and they'll give in and just process your visa for the official amount. We read later that evening in the lonely planet guide that the Cambodian police are the best that money can buy - if they're like those at border control then I wholeheartedly agree!

Although there is nothing to stop us walking through the gate and into Cambodia proper, we decide we should probably get our visas stamped, as per procedure, lest we get caught by the name-your-price police without the correct documentation. The queue is a nightmare of people crammed together in a narrow room with no aircon and the odd fan, the breeze of which doesn't reach you if you're in the middle. To process each person takes a lot longer than it did to leave Thailand. Plus there are a few cheeky queue jumpers who do everything they can to sneakily advance the line. We make the mistake of getting stuck behind six Japanese kids who take ages to be processed. There are four guards at the windows and behind them a long curtain. At one point the curtain is temporarily drawn back and we see a guy lying on his front with two elbows in his back giving him a massage - alright for some!

Upon getting our scans and stamps, we were actually met immediately by a tour guide, a bit of a Slick Rick character who spotted our AZ stickers, which were falling off now and then due to the hot, sweaty atmosphere. Rick told us to take a seat and wait for our bus. When it arrived it was effectively the free shuttle to the bus station that anyone can board, is a real rattly boneshaker, and is packed full of tourists from all over the world. The Poipet bus station looked like an old aircraft hangar as people nap in the empty luggage racks of the vehicles parked outside. No one seemed to know what was going on  - bus? Taxi? To Siem Reap? To Phnom Penh? The tour guides weren't much help, with Rick telling us we'd have to wait for 45 minutes, but not what we were waiting for. Ten minutes later a different guide herded us towards another bus and, after clarifying with him about 20 times that the bus was going to Siem Reap, we boarded. Cheers for nothing, Rick!

It was a bus that had probably been around since before the Vietnam War; the seats were uncomfortable; they were hot; and the aircon wasn't strong enough to cope with the amount of heat generated by all the sweaty bods, but at least we were moving towards Siem Reap. And what am I complaining about - I'm getting all of the way from Bangkok to Siem Reap for the sum of £4.80! It was also my first glance at the Cambodian countryside which looked very flat and green and wet, and not much else. The road to Siem Reap was straight all the way and I didn't remember it going round one bend for the whole three hour journey. We weren't planning on visiting rural Cambodia on account of the infrastructure being virtually non-existent. And every guide book we'd read said that if you do then you must stick to the well-worn paths because the country is littered with landmines. Apparently there are guns-a-plenty here too, but don't worry because Cambodians are extremely friendly to foreigners...let's hope so!

[The best way to deal with a crap coach journey!]

 [A producer of the miniature houses for the spirits of the land that were described in a previous post.]

[Wide awake again and wishing he was still asleep.]

After a brief stop off in the middle of nowhere, we arrived in Siem Reap, which looked...a bit like the middle of nowhere! And this is the second largest city in the country??? We didn't stop at the bus station, just outside some ropey accommodation from where we could make our own way to the hotel. Immediately someone was upon us and asking if we wanted a tuk-tuk. Sure! But how much do you want for the journey? He wants six dollars. We say forget it, and that we've heard the journey should cost between $1 and $2 (slightly incorrect, but it's all good haggling). He goes as low as $5, but we still won't have it. Why do we need to? There's a thousand other tuk-tuks in this town. He tries to deal with us in Thai baht - 300, please. We tell him we only have 120, which is true. Getting a bit more desperate now, he goes for 120 bat and an extra dollar on top. We're not interested. Finally he agrees to the 120 baht, but insists that his mate travel with us. Sure, what do we care? We just beat his ass down to a great ride!

This tuk-tuk is essentially a motorbike with a trailer attached for us to sit in. Our travelling companion introduces himself as Add [SIC], though his card says Mr. Samat, English speaking tour guide. He asks us if we want a tuk-tuk for tomorrow, tour guide, etc., but we don't know what we're doing yet. He then opens his wallet and, making out like it's a joke, offers to sell me some marijuana. But it's not a joke, it's a serious proposition. Tour guides can get you anything here! Naturally, I politely decline and we arrive at the Angkor Pearl Hotel. It's a bizarre sight to see a new, rather-grand-looking building constructed next to a street which looks akin to a country road with potholes-a-plenty. And we're only a short walk from the town centre!

We check in and chill out. It's been a long day, but we're happy to have avoided the scams that came our way. We eat traditional Khmer cuisine that evening, but to my unrefined palette it tastes pretty much like Thai, though that's not a bad thing. I foolishly go to get $100 from the cash machine and that's exactly what I get - a $100 note! Never seen one with Benjamin Franklin on it before. Might have to break that down before I try and use it at the market or to pay a tuk-tuk driver. We end the day watching England draw 1-1 with Poland in the world cup qualifying game. Oh well, you can't have everything!