Mark’s Vagabonding Blog

***Before you read “A Border Crossing Adventure, Parts 1&2”, let me just say that it’s been a while since I’ve written them and I’ve since regretted some of the ways that I tried to save money on this trip. I now realize it was uncool, and I feel bad about it. But at the time I needed to make a limited amount last a year+ with absolutely no income, and that’s all I thought about. If I had it to do again, I would not have been as frugal (and probably would have enjoyed myself a little more too). But don’t let this stop you from reading them, it’s still a good read, Thank you, Mark***

. . . . Unless you’ve secured other transporation into town, you pretty much need these guys (touts, See part one). I knew from my research that the fair price for a ride into town was 50 baht (they accept Thai baht on the border towns of Cambodia).

So, finally, I spoke to my tout, who I took to be about 23 years old, “Alright, how much?”

“A hundred baht, ” he said. He spoke perfect english.

I said, “Fifty.”

He said something about petrol, and I stuck to 50 baht. After a little back and forth, he finally accepted the 50 baht price, and we climbed aboard his bike.

There’s one other immigration formality a short distance down the road. Three guys underneath a 3-sided wooded shack look at your passport. Apparently some number was missing on my visa, so we had to go back to the office. On the motorcycle, the driver rides with your backpack in front of him, between his legs. I’d read about this so I was okay with it. When we got back to the immigration office, he said that I could leave the backpack on his bike.

“No way,” I said, “the pack stays with me.”

So I took the pack with me, and we went to the station where they had taken my picture, and I handed the lady my passport. She wrote the number on my visa and we got back on the bike. On the way back we didn’t even have to stop at that checkpoint again, they just waved us through.

The ride into town takes about 5-10 minutes, and I was enjoying the scenery of mountains in the near distance. Then my tout broke the mood, and asked me if I smoke. I told him no. Then he said something about marijuana. I said I wasn’t interested. I would hear that question A LOT in the coming days.

Up ahead was a bridge, a toll bridge. Before we approached it, he said, “There’s a toll up ahead, you have to pay it,” as he pointed to the toll sign.

I told him that I was aware of the toll. I’d known about the toll bridge from my research. I also knew that technically, he was supposed to pay the fare, but this is one thing I would let him get away with. But he had something else up his sleeve.

He said, “Do you have any riel?” Riel is the currency of Cambodia. U.S. dollars and Thai baht are also readily accepted in Cambodia as well.

I didn’t have any, so I said, “No.”

He said, “Okay, I’ll pay the toll and you can pay me back later.”

I knew that the fare was 11 baht, but wasn’t sure about riel. However I was pretty sure you could pay the toll in baht, but I just said, “Okay. How much is it?”

He said, “One-thousand two-hundred riel.”

When we arrived at the toll booth, I saw the sign on the glass. It was writen in Khmer (the language of Cambodia), but I could see that the price was 1200 riel, or 11 baht. So I could have just paid the 11 baht myself, which alerted me that there will be a scam coming up involving riel.

After he paid the toll, I told him to take me to Otto’s Guesthouse please. I said it twice so I know he heard me, but he didn’t respond.

We finally came to a town. Shortly after, he stopped at a money changing booth, which is just a lady on the side of the dirt road, with different currencies in a glass case.

He said, “You have to change your money to riel so you can pay me back for the toll.”

I said, “No, I don’t have to. I’ll just pay you eleven baht when we get to Otto’s. I’ll give you sixty-one baht.”

“No, you have to change your money here,” he said.

I said, “No I don’t. And I know that you are supposed to pay the toll, but I agreed to pay anyhow.”

He insisted that I had to change my money to riel. So I said, “Okay, I’ll change eleven baht then.”

He said that I couldn’t, so I said that I’d change $1.00 U.S. He said that I couldn’t change that little amount of money.

I finally said, “Listen, I know I don’t have to change any money. It’s a scam. I’ll give you sixty-one baht when we get to Otto’s. It’s the same thing.”

We were both still sitting on his bike during this. So, frustrated, he cranked the throttle and we left the money changer without making an exchange. The scam is: That’s the first place to change money as you arrive in Cambodia from that crossing, so they make you think you have change your money right away. They give you a horrible exchange rate, and he gets a cut for bringing me there. That’s the seed he tried to plant at the toll booth.

Yeah, I was getting a little scared at this point. I was pissing this guy off from the start, and my life was literally in his back seat. I was in a foreign land, and knew nothing about that town, and I had no idea where Otto’s was. He could have taken me anywhere, and had his cronies beat the hell out me, and take everything I had. But I’d taken my stand against corruption this far, so I might as well go all the way.

As we got a little deeper into town I started looking for any sign of an Otto’s (I’d read about it on the internet). I didn’t see any, but soon enough, we had stopped again. We were at a place called, The River Guesthouse, and it looked like this was the end of our trip.

I said, “What’s this? This isn’t Otto’s.”

It sounded like he said, “This is my guesthouse. We stop here.”

“But I asked you to take me to Otto’s.”

He said, “This is a good guesthouse. Nice rooms. A lot of foreigners stay here.” He pointed at the tourists sitting at the tables.

It did look like an okay place, but that wasn’t the point. So I said, “Okay then take me to the Phumin Hotel (another place I read about on the internet).”

No response.

Then the owner, or whoever, came over and said, “This is a nice place, you’ll like it here. Come look at the rooms.”

“But I told him to take to Otto’s,” I said.

“Otto’s no good, small rooms, no AC. We have big rooms, and AC.”

I said, “That doesn’t matter. I told him to take me to Otto’s, so he should have taken me to Otto’s.” I really started to get frustrated now. “Okay, look,” I continued, “you can give him his commision for bringing me here, and then he can bring me to Otto’s. Or better yet, where’s Otto’s? I’ll walk there.”

No response. So I asked my tout, “Where’s Otto’s?”

“I don’t know.”

“Then where’s the Phumin hotel?”

“I don’t know.”

One of the employees pointed to a map on the wall. “There’s a map,” he said.

I looked at the map but it was no help. His point was that Koh Kong was a big place, and that Otto’s could be far away.

Then the employee said, “I think it’s on an island somewhere.”

I knew they were all fucking with me now, so I went to the tourists to see if any of them knew where Otto’s was. They honestly didn’t, but one girl had a guide book. We looked it up, and there it was. It said, “One welcomed addition to Koh Kong is Otto’s . . . it’s 50 meters from the port.” Now we’re getting somewhere.

Then the girl said, “I think that’s the port right over there,” and pointed right across the dirt road.

I stupidly asked my tout, “Is that the port?”

“I don’t know.”

Well, now I was armed with this new knowledge about Otto’s, so I didn’t need him any more. And it was obvious he wasn’t my friend any longer. So I gave him his 61 baht (good thing I had exact change), and took off on foot to find Otto’s. It was starting to get late too. Darkness was setting in. I better find Otto’s fast. The port had to be around here, why would the girl have thought that that was the port otherwise?

So I headed down the road in the direction we were going since I didn’t notice Otto’s on the way there. About 50 yards away on the other side of the road was a gas station. I went in to ask where Otto’s was, and the Phumin Hotel. The clerks there were all very nice and cheerful and happy. Now this is the Cambodia I’ve heard all about, and hoped to experience. They pointed down the road where I came from and said that it was just down the road a bit. They were glad to practice their english.

“Both places?” I said.

“Yes.”

With a big smile on my face, I said, “Thank you.”

As I started back down the road, relieved, I thought of how funny it was that Otto’s was probably right next d . . . . . “OH SHIT!!! My backpack!!”

I walked all the way to the gas station without my backpack on my back. Asside from the frustration with my tout, and that whole situation, I’m still not used to carrying a backpack. This is the first backpack I’ve ever owned in my life. I only carry it when I move from one place to another. When I’m situated in a hostel or guesthouse, my pack stays in the room, and I wander the streets without it. Plus, I’ve stayed with June so much, I’ve hardly had to carry it.

I ran down that dirt road in Koh Kong, Cambodia, as fast as this weary 40-year old body could run. Memories of my lost wallet flooded my brain. “Oh please, not again.” Then I remembered the tout road with it between his legs on the bike. It was probably still there when I walked away. I’d pissed him off badly, and I was sure he road off with it, laughing all the way home, to see what goodies he had won.

When I reached The River Guesthouse, panting, out of breath, there it was, on the ground. I grabbed it and opened it to see if everything was still in there. As I was looking, the owner of the guesthouse came over.

He said, “Your bag is safe here. We have good security here.”

I said, still panting, “It wasn’t you I was worried about.”

Everything appeared to be in the bag. Relieved, once again, I continued to walk down the road with my backpack on my back to look for Otto’s, a little bit humbled. About 30 yards down the road was a small sign that read, “Otto’s Guesthouse 50 meters,” with an arrow pointing down the side road. Another 30 yards down the main road was the Phumin hotel. I’d also seen the port where the boat leaves from. A boat that I will take to Sihanoukville, Cambodia tomorrow morning.

A boat ride that I will never forget . . . .

Tags: border crossing, Cambodia, Markcs, scams, Thailand

This entry was posted on Thursday, December 22nd, 2005 at 11:26 am and is filed under Cambodia, Thailand. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.