August 1 to 2—Bangkok, Thailand, Through the Border and on to Siem Reap, Cambodia

Dear Family and Friends,

Wednesday, August 1, after a glorious month in Bangkok Gardens with Sheila, our visa was close to expiring, and we awoke to our last Thai day. Martha jumped up to clean the bathroom after just one snooze from our alarm clock at 6:37 AM; Dani did not hear the alarm at all. Without any movement from Dani, Martha decided that sleeping another hour might be a good thing, since we did not get to bed until after 2:30 AM the night before. Finally, sometime past 9 AM, we awoke, sipped the last of our Nescafe “coffee,” finished final clean-ups around the apartment, split half of a custard-apple (strange fruit: tastes like custard, has the consistency of a pear) and a kiwi for breakfast, stuffed our packs, and were completely prepared to depart before we woke Sheila to pay her our last goodbyes, for now.

Sadly, we left our Bangkok roomie, and decided to walk the approximate mile to the post office instead of taking a cab. Now, it was nearing noon in Bangkok, so the heat was on; we were both pouring sweat by the time we found the EMS post office on Chan Street. It’d been almost a month since we last wore our packs down this very street, and it felt great to get some exercise in after so much bus riding and cab enjoyment in this piping hot city!

Hmmm, a post office in a foreign land where very little is written in Roman lettering—another fun adventure!! There were packages neatly stacked in the hall area, being moved about by someone who (hopefully) worked for the postal service. Dani approached the counter that sold boxes while Martha stood near the packs and absorbed information. Once the items for shipment home were stuffed into the box, Martha took her turn at the counter to pay for the box and figure out our next move.

While Martha stood in line, Dani saw the line for shipment wrapping around the other side of the counter space in the large open room, and went to grab a number; she selected #165 from the box, but the adjacent computer monitor said they were on #44. Dani returned to guarding the packs and stared at the shrine to the king in the lobby, pretty sure that it would be a while.

The fun part about being Caucasian and standing around looking stupid in an Asian country is that, eventually, someone comes over and asks if they can help. A wonderfully nice woman told Dani that she should simply take her box to the counter on the left and not bother with the long line in the other room. “I think it would be tonight before you reach the front.” Still not sure if we were rude Americans cutting in front of the 121 people ahead of us in the other room, Martha was able to secure slower than slow shipment of the 4.4-kilo package for 1160 baht. It will be going “surface” so will hopefully arrive in America around the same time as we do! We’d done some research online, and DHL would have been around 5000 baht, so were indeed glad to have received directions to the EMS post office from Chris the night before we left!

We hopped into a cab and made the driver put the meter on; he wanted to drive without the meter and charge us 250 baht. When we insisted he put the meter on, so he lowered the price to 200 baht. Having taken a taxi from the bus station to our apartment twice now, we knew he was overcharging us, and Martha told him that she knew it would cost just 115 baht by meter to the North. He tried to get us to pay the 40 baht fare on the freeway for our going and his return trip, but Martha laughed at the idea he would not be able to get another fare from the bus station. He turned on the meter, we paid one way on the freeway, and made our way quickly North for a total of 117 baht on the meter. Trying to cheat his boss or the government is one thing, cheating us we will not stand for!

At Mo Chit Bus Station by 12:40 PM, we caught the 1 PM bus to Aranya Prathet at the Eastern Thai border into Cambodia for 207 baht each. Dani bought waters and a fruit juice and a tea before we boarded the nice air-conditioned bus. Heading East we saw new scenery, including the expanding SkyRail platforms, an extensive floating market area, and lots of shops along the street leading into eventual open countryside.

Aranya Prathet, Thailand, was about five hours away, and we arrived to a handful of tuk-tuk drivers in wait around 5:30 PM. The big hotel near the bus station where we first looked into a room cost a whopping 980 baht—no surprise since they had a picture of the lead singer of Carabao as a guest in their restaurant sprawled on the counter; they recommended Siam Guest House and provided a map (everything was in Thai except for 7-11). There is absolutely nothing in our Shoestring guidebook about this town. As we walked down the main road to the guest house, many tuk-tuks slowed, asking to take us to their guest house. We have gotten very good at chiming “No thank you” in unison. We know that when a tuk-tuk driver offers to charge you 10 baht for a ride to their recommended guest house, you will be charged a higher rate by the property (a portion of which they will pay the tuk-tuk driver for commission), so your 10-baht ride in the end costs more than you think. Besides, we knew where we were headed and were glad to have our legs moving after the morning’s bus ride.

We arrived after a short 500-meter walk at Siam GH, and procured a nice room for 480 baht (16 USD)—this high price gets you air conditioning, soap and shampoo, toilet paper, comfy beds with both top and bottom sheets and blankets, and a TV! Swanky! However, you still get company of the critter variety; Dani wonders if we will find out what price is paid for a room that does not have geckos. Martha tried to soothe Dani, informing her that geckos are friendly and only want to sell you car insurance while amusing you with licking their own eyeball. This tactic did not work. As one little lizard scampered along the wall, Dani got Martha to usher it out the door (without the tip of his tail). Since our stomachs had begun to eat themselves, we walked to find dinner. We originally wanted to go to the restaurant directly in front of our room. It was a gorgeous outdoor eatery with smooth wooden floors, no walls, and a BBQ drum on the street in front. As we neared, something kept our feet moving. We decided to walk to the 7-11 deep in the heart of town for a bottle of water, and found ourselves drooling in front of a street stall. The man cooking spoke English, and asked us what we wanted to order as we stared at his active wok.

Martha had a hankering for some pad thai, and Dani eyed a rack of pork ribs on the prep table so ordered pork with vegetables on rice. We paid 60 baht total and took the meals to-go, along with some longan-fruit Martha picked up from a neighboring stall for 25 baht. We walked back to our room for our self-imposed 8:00 PM curfew and dinner in front of the TV. Oh, how we wish we had caught this movie from the beginning! The story was a woman from present day who went back in history to the time when the French had colonized the Eastern parts of SE Asia while the British were colonizing the Western parts; she formed a romance with Chao Praya Chakri (yup, that’s him the river is named after), who would later become King Rama I. What a neat look at cinema and its interaction with the history of this region—a nice way to finish up our learning in Thailand for the month! We were off to sleep early, since getting across the border tomorrow could be a stressful day. Dani surprised herself by being able to sleep, even though one of the last sights was of little legs and a long tail moving itself across the wall.

Thursday, August 2, we’d set the alarm for 7:30 AM, and were showered, dressed, repacked, and out the door by 8:30 AM. We stood at the driveway, debating if we should walk back towards town for a tuk-tuk or walk towards the border and hail one as it passed. We hadn’t even finished our discussion when one was alongside us, “Border?” The driver asked how much we were willing to pay; Martha said 40 baht. “Fifty!” Martha looked at Dani, full-well knowing this was an acceptable price, but working up the drama. We 'grudgingly' agreed to 50; the driver tried to hide his triumphant smile.

A ten-minute ride later, through one police check-point, the driver stopped the tuk-tuk in the middle of a market and got out. Knowing that was too easy to have been a border crossing, and no international border in sight, Martha remained seated and emphatically said, “No. Border.” With a quick “Sorry,” the driver hopped back in, said good-bye to his friend who owned the market stall, and drove us around the corner to what was more recognizable as a border landing. It wouldn’t have been a long walk, but the question would have been how to find it! We shifted our packs back on and followed the crowd towards the two-story building of the Thai exit-point.

Martha looked down to see a small boy poking at the plastic bag in her hand. She told the boy, “No,” and continued walking. We hadn’t prepared our bags or pockets for any sort of charity for the Thai side: our main focus of the morning was to get across the border, and then we anticipated being faced with extreme poverty and a strong need for giving in Cambodia. A girl was then poking at the bag, and Martha raised it above her reach. Dani looked down to find she was surrounded by three small children; the one who looked barely old enough to walk on his own clung to her forearm. The girl continued jumping to grab the bag out of Martha’s hand (which contained a shirt, her travel pillow, and the remaining longan fruit (our stash for lunch), which is what the kids had honed in upon.

The children fell back as we neared the line for foreigners, and we entered the building. We stood in the lane #3 wondering what we should have done— stop to dig through the bag for something to give them and they could be reaching into other bags? We checked to make sure everything was secure otherwise, since we understand these kids’ hands can be pretty crafty, and were happy that the lap belt of of our packs latches at the pocket level to keep them secure. We agree to keep an eye on each other and what’s going on with our stuff. Stamp, stamp, we were officially out of Thailand.

The border was guarded by two grand lion statues standing on each side of the Angkor-decorated gateway into the Kingdom of Cambodia. Just beyond the gate, we saw a folding table of four officials in blue. A river, with banks covered in rubbish, caught our eyes; the king of Thailand forbade littering, so this was shocking to our senses after a full month of much cleaner streets. Traffic consisted of men pulling carts laden with textiles and police occasionally glancing in as they passed. Eyes everywhere, focusing nowhere, no thank you we do not want a taxi, where are we going, hey that kid’s a little close, was that a man without a face? We were ushered to the visa service building just before the gate, and were given one form each to complete, and requested to pay 25 USD each or 1,000 baht (about $33). While Dani slowly completed her form, Martha wandered the area to try to determine if this was a scam point, since the guide book and sign on the wall both said it would be 20 USD. She returned, comforted by the number of official-looking agents in the vicinity. The money was passed into the building to a man wearing a police uniform, and passports were returned three minutes later with a Cambodian visa. We were ushered as the only passengers onto a tram-car, dropped at another building, and told we would get into a bus after getting the stamp that would take us to the bus station. Even if we had just been scammed at the border, we still got a little something for our 5 USD—a ‘free’ half-mile ride past the oversized hotels and casinos to the entry check point. Stamp, stamp, we were officially in Cambodia.

Across to our next ‘free’ ride, we were not taken to the bus station as promised. Instead, we ended up looking at the front of a tourist office and told that all bus tickets must be purchased here and that it was impossible to purchase tickets at the station itself! Hmm, sounds exceedingly fishy.

Maybe we wanted to pay 60 USD for a private car to take us to Siem Reap, instead? Dani stayed with the bags and the car while Martha went inside to see our options. Dani watched the auto-repair shop next door change the tire of a Tourist Police Officer, and noticed that his revolver was rusty. She wondered if it still worked and why it wasn’t latched into the holster instead of sitting in it so easy to remove. Still, his presence was comforting. Inside, Martha was told that the usual cost for a private taxi was 60 USD, but since there were no other passengers available for a shared ride that the cost would go down to 50 USD. No, we just want two bus tickets; actually, what we want is to go to the bus station. Suddenly, there WAS one other passenger dropping the ride to 40 USD. Oh, yeah, this is a scam. Martha came out to discuss the options with Dani while our “guide” looked on.

Dani emptied her pocket and pulled out exactly 30 USD, and it was decided that a car ride would indeed be much faster than the six-hour bus ride; even if we were scammed into it, this was Cambodia where the money really is needed. Martha paid a total of 30 USD plus the 150 baht she had in her pocket to the agency (bringing the entire three-hour ride to about 35 USD), and the two climbed into the back of the Toyota Camry headed for Siem Reap.

Whoa, the guide book says that the road out of Poipet is rough—and recommends travel by air during the rainy season—and the authors aren’t kidding! There were a few areas where the road was semi-paved (but even they are so full of potholes that is it impossible not to be bumped about); a few areas where crews were actively working to put a road in; a number of sections that were unpaved but flat; and a few areas where we weren’t sure how the driver was going to cross the deep potholes that stretched across the road.

Taxi drivers are the same all over the world, crazy. He wasn’t much paying attention to proper sides of the road, sometimes heading straight for on-coming traffic. It appears as though Cambodians drive on the right side of the road, but the taxi was built to drive on the left side of the road as if it were meant for sale in Thailand or Japan. But, why was the speedometer numbered for miles? Did not matter, since it didn’t work anyway. The driver zoomed, and we reached for our seatbelts, only to find them without locking mechanisms. However, we were shortly calmed, as we saw that he was an excellent driver, slowing down each time he neared a motorbike, a truck overflowing with goods and people, or a cow in the road. We arrived to Siem Reap in less than three hours, including two delivery stops that helped the driver fund the frequent trip. We gave him some of our remaining baht as thanks for the fast and safe arrival to the doorsteps of the guest house we read about in the guide book.

At the Ivy Guest House 2 in Siem Reap, 6 USD a night will get you a room with a fan, attached bathroom complete with toilet paper and cold shower, and two super comfortable beds made of memory foam with a blanket and pillow. And, yes, geckos. We signed in, dropped our packs, and checked the guidebook for the nearest recommended restaurant. The Blue Pumpkin was around the next block, and we were ushered upstairs to the air-conditioned second floor for an amazing lunch. Martha ordered a papaya fruit shake and was thrilled to find a ham and cheese sandwich with pickles on a baguette (Having been occupied by the French, Cambodia offers bread and cheese, where the Thais don’t eat bread and most are lactose intolerant). Dani feasted on a lemon fruit shake and fish ravioli in a ginger, lemongrass and coconut milk sauce, the restaurant’s signature dish. We also noticed that this location offers free WiFi, so made plans to return later in the day after getting the bearings of the town a little.

As soon as we were back out on the street, a tuk-tuk driver approached us asking if we wanted to go to the temple today. “No, not today.” “OK, I will remember you tomorrow!” Though the tuk-tuk drivers here are prevalent, they are quite friendly with genuine smiles and a good sense of humor. He was still following us to ask if we needed a ride anywhere else when a young girl grabbed our attention. She seemed about 10 years old and was selling bracelets for two dollars (the exact amount Dani had in her pocket). It seemed a lot for one of the little woven bracelets, but Martha was willing to pay and received a whole stack of 10 or so bracelets linked together, along with a note written in youthful handwriting: “Hello, very nice to meet you. Where are you from? I hope you have a nice time in Cambodia.” So sweet! OK, we can help fund these working youth! As soon as we had finished our transaction with the girl, two others came up, “What about me?” offering the same bracelets and postcards. We said no, but they were persistent, following us up the block and getting nastier with Martha. She looked deeply at them, memorized their faces, and told them she would not buy from them the next day either. She did see them later in our walk, and they again tried to pressure her, but Martha was having none of their attitude.

Another girl with books about Ankor Wat tried to get Martha to play tic-tac-toe with her, saying, “If you win, I give you the book for free. If I win, you buy it. If we draw, I’ll go away.” Although Martha was not SURE that there was a trick to always winning tic-tac-toe, she refused, which was smart, because Dani showed her later how to win every time when going first. The child had already made her first move, to mark an easy win! We later noticed that many of the kids had tic-tac-toe scratched on papers carried with their souvenirs. The kids’ English skills were pretty amazing, by the way, probably because most of the teachers were killed in the 70s and new ones have had to be imported, predominantly it seems, from English-speaking nations. The students commonly learn English and Khmer language skills in school.

After a leisurely stroll in the mid-day heat through the small town, including checking out the Central Market wares for the first time, we decided to return to our room for a cool shower and rest. Martha typed up a note to send to parents and family to let them know we’d arrived safely, and then she had a snooze while Dani read some on the computer and pulled her bed away from the wall of geckos.

In the evening, we returned to the Blue Pumpkin, this time with the computer, and lounged on the beds sipping iced tea and coffee, listening to cool music and checking e-mails. What joy to be back in contact after two whole days!! We also checked our You-Tube account for the first time in a month (the Web site is blocked in Thailand), so we could not even read e-mails sent there! We look forward to posting some new videos someday soon.

We strolled up the street to a pizza place that had caught our eye, and popped in for dinner. Mmmm, spanikopita pizza (thin crust with tomato sauce, onions, garlic, feta, and spinach) and a skordalia dip (strong garlic dip – here thickened with mashed potatoes) were shared between us both. Good thing, because with that much garlic, we had better both eat! We sat and discussed friends back home as we enjoyed dinner in a smooth atmosphere. By the time we paid our bill, it was twenty minutes past our self-imposed 8:00 PM curfew, and though the guide-book says that Siem Reap is fairly safe to be out at night, we did not want to find out differently on our first night. We returned in the cool night air to the guest house while the street lights were still on and the streets full of vendors. We finished up our night in the lobby of the guest house, chatting briefly with a couple from Belgium and advising travelers on their way to Bangkok. Martha selected the Cambodia guidebook from the bookshelf, and we read through our potential adventures in this country. Looks like a lot to offer, and a lot of fun. Stay tuned!

In love and light,

Dani and Martha


(Thanks for writing this one up, Dani! Martha was exhausted after the whirlwind pre-Bangkok-departure postings!)