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The mutiny of Siem Reap

The contrast crossing into Cambodia is sharp. As you’re changing sides of the road (left to right), you can’t help but notice a different level of poverty immediately. Trash litters the dusty streets of Poipet, long a jumping point for war refugees into Thailand, and now a seedy gambling town. We passed through quickly.The border cross went far more smoothly than expected. The transportation bureau of Cambodia has successfully cut out the scammers and pickpockets by shuttling entrants from visa application office, to stamp office, to bus station. We caught the bus and began our journey on a long, flat, bumpy road. It isn’t far from the border to Siem Reap, but the trip took 6 hours, crawling.

Part of the reason for the length and speed of the trip is that the guy on board turned out to own a guest house in Siem Reap. At our lunch stop he told us of the dangers of S.R. after sundown, and how nice his guest house was. A group of Czechs began to plot the mutiny. They were not going to play into his scam. The evolution of tourist bus psychology unfolded in the most surreal and comical way.

I became the liaison between the Japanese tourists. The Czechs wanted solidarity. We would not fold to this “criminal” who was about to hold us hostage in his guesthouse. If I sound melodramatic, it is because the events that followed still confound me several days after. When the bus finally meandered into Siem Reap, the Czechs were watching the Lonely Planet map intently. When the bus made a left turn away from central S.R., the dam broke. There was screaming, swearing, and hands beating the sides of the bus. “We’re being kidnapped! Call the Police! Stop the bus for the LOVE OF GOD!” I became silent and exchanged pensive looks with Louise. The Czechs didn’t want anyone to get off the bus. Solidarity. Louise and I knew full well that the bus had stopped, so we got off to a chorus of “don’t do it!” “If you give in to them you are stupid!” I had much different opinions. We left.

We got a Tuk-Tuk and found a guest house near the center of town and that was that. What a trip! In retrospect, I realize now that they were really scared. They thought their safety was in jeopardy. I was frightened by them more than the bus folks. My policy remains to never call for police in a country that has had death squads and torture chambers. Call me crazy.



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