At 7:30 am on Friday morning, after a breakfast of boiled rice (which is like rice soup) with pork (I know, I know, I'm a vegetarian), I took a taxi to the Northern Bus station in Bangkok--I was reminded of the last time I was in Thailand (over 20 years ago--I sound like a really old person, I know). I could only chuckle as the taxi driver was driving 130 km/hr in the 80 km/hr zone. And I won't even mention the side streets. I got to the station and walked inside and just happened to come upon the kiosk that was selling tickets to my destination--Aranyaprathet: 250Bhat. I found the bus quay (thanks to my glasses--I first nearly went to quay 21, not quay 121 which was much MUCH closer) and I climbed right on the "first class"bus (which means it had air con). All within five minutes, which was when the bus was leaving. Brilliant! Smooth so far. I'm smiling at my good luck!
We drive for a while, stopping to pick up passengers, to get fuel (a process very slow and not like American pumping at all). At some point I wondered if I am on the right bus, ever so briefly, since it really didn't matter if I were on the wrong bus-it's not like I could get off and have a clue how to reisituate! So I enjoyed the bumpy ride in the back with the slightly smelly toilet nearby. At some point a policeman came on at a stop and invited two women to get off, which they did with hardly a shade do resistance. Meanwhile the guy next to me has gone into the bathroom, to pee I think, but I suspect he's hiding from the police when, after the policeman sees him in there and leaves him, he returns to his seat. What the heck is going on I wonder. Some miles later another official gets on-this one with a more impressive uniform. This time, when my travel partner goes into the bathroom, this guy waits for him to come out. When he does they have some very low key exchange wich I obviously don't understand, and he's invited off the bus. I thought there might be some type of resitance on his part, but no. Just strolled off the bus!
When we at last get to the stop, I' m talking to the other two Westerner's on the bus about sharing a tuk tuk to the boarder. They are taking too long getting their stuff together and the bus driver starts to drive off. I ask him to stop (the international symbol of waving hands!). We get off and in a moment he's driving away...with my bag in the hold. I start laughing and run after the bus knocking on the door as he's driving away, thinking how hard it would be to locate my bag should it leave the parking lot! He doesn't speak Engish and I don't speak Thai but pointing works well enough.
Once at the boarder at Poipet by tuk tuk, which I share with a young newlywed couple from the states-conservative kosher Jews in Cambodia--we walk across the boarder from Thailand to Cambodia. In between there are big and quite fancy hotels and casinos. It's a strange space between these borders. The Cambodian immigration is through a rather dark and dank and dripping room, with little to indicate the usual terseness of the entry process, save for the Camboidan border gaurds, who are VERY terse. It's chaos in this room as dozens of us crowd in (and out of the pouring rain) to make our way to the other side. Once through, we get on a free shuttle bus (not what you might imagine when I say "shuttle bus" I might bet) to the bus station where I get a $9 (it turns out Cambodian ATMs dispense US currency) ticket on the next bus to Siem Reap. A three-hour tour, er, ride. I get the last seat on the bus in the back and I squeeze in between an Italian student (who just got a new tattoo in Bangkok in honor of Buddha day the day before) and a youngish British man. I'm pretty sure I'm easily the oldest person on the bus. Even though Ive had little sleep the last three (or is it four?) nights, I'm wide awake for the next part of this journey, interested in the scenery and the most fascinating life story that is unfolding from my seat mate.
About two hours into the ride the bus pulls over at a restaurant (though it doesn't look as you might imagine when I say "restaurant") for a break--it sounds like he says we''ll be here an hour. Very Cambodian--there's nothing to do but enjoy the rest. I have a beer with my new friend (well, okay half a beer because I'm a cheap date and I want to stay awake through dinner) and have one of the kinds of conversations that happens in such circumstance. For me, it was a chance to practice being open, undefended, and to listen more carefully than I sometimes do. In another two hours we were in Siem Reap. I don't know what I expected, but it is quite the place. Chaotic, busy streets, night life, Buddhist shrines.
I walked to dinner to a local restaurant--Suki Soup. The menu of course is in Cambodian, but they have good pictures so I point to the vegetable soup (they bring you fresh veggies and you cook it in a broth at your table). It looked big in the photo, but when it arrived it was absoluted enormous--dinner for four easily. I couldn't stop from laughing at myself and my situattion, and the waitresses also saw the humor. But I cooked a lot of it and took some back to my room where, it turns out, I have a small fridge! So I had some for lunch.
At the end of the day as I crawled into bed, I found myself giggling at the day's events...and how hard, um, firm, my bed was. I was asleep in minutes. It's hard to worry too much here for some strange reason. But then again, why worry about that? It's easy enough just to be happy!
Sounds perfect!
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