Am I Corn or Kale?

We left Chiang Mai a little after 8pm Sunday night and arrived to our destination at 2pm Monday.  We knew before we started that this leg of the trip would be one of the most strenuous and our expectations were met.  The first nine and a half hours we were on a “VIP” bus headed to Bangkok.  The seats were extra wide and reclined enough so that you could easily reach the person behind you, and you even got a large towel-like blanket for the ride.  Unfortunately, these attempts at comfort did not trump the frigid air conditioning, which made the whole thing feel like a cryogenics experiment.

When we did arrive in Bangkok at 5:30 am,  we were deposited into a huge maze-like bus station (only one of Bangkok’s many stations).  After wandering back and forth in the wrong direction for about twenty minutes we finally found our way to the inside of the bus terminal where we were able to buy a ticket for the next leg of the journey.  We hopped on the bus and rolled out of Bangkok at 6am.

Then came the fun part: we arrived to Aranyaprathet (still in Thailand) at 9:30 am — a short journey during which we actually got more sleep than the entire night before. Once in “Aran”, we stepped out of the bus and were immediately approached by touts trying to sell us tuk tuk services.

(20 minutes later)

“You are scared.” It was odd that this sentence was coming from a (supposed) border patrol officer, trying to get us into a quarantine control room to fill out a meaningless form about whether or not we’ve been coughing over the last month. His statement, however, was within reason: we had arrived at the dirty border city of Poipet, land of scams, casinos, pick pocketing, and more scams. The level of dishonesty (something that, as far as we know, we hadn’t experienced in Thailand) has bled through the border and applied to our tuk tuk driver, who first took us not to the border crossing per se, but rather to the Cambodian Consulate on the Thai side of things. Scam spotted! We already knew about how this “consulate” sells fake visas that prove useless once you actually try to enter Cambodia, so we staunchly refused to get out of the tuk tuk until the guards gave up and our driver took us to the border crossing spot.

Borders are messy, but this place was just ridiculous. Enforcement of who was coming and going was seemingly sporadic, which is why we were butting heads with the quarantine form officer. We didn’t recall reading anything about filling out health-related forms to get into Cambodia, and were flat out refusing to follow the guy’s orders. “You don’t go there, you don’t go to Cambodia”, he said, while dozens of other people continued to walk past him. We pointed out this treatment discrepancy to him, and he explained that those people were going to the casino (not sure how he would know that without asking or checking any of them) which was located BEFORE the immigration/customs office. Now, is it normal for casinos to exist between a border and an immigration office? We eventually gave in to the quarantine man, on the grounds that filling out the forms would cost us nothing. Oh, and they DO make you write “holiday” as the reason for your trip!

Next up came the actual visa purchase, which as we knew would cost us $20 and require a passport picture. We had these in hand, but we also knew that the officers would request an additional 100 Baht as a mysterious, extra fee. We said no, no, no. It is not often we catch ourselves openly opposing people in a position of authority, but in Cambodia this is pretty much the modus operandi: it is impossible to know who to trust, so we were starting out every interaction by refusing to do whatever we were told; if the person gave up and let us move on, it was probably a scam attempt and they would just try to get someone else to fall for it; if they did not budge, then it was probably the real deal.

Needless to say that this put us into a thick, stressful state of mind (especially as we are carrying all of our luggage/valuables with us!). We eventually proceeded through the crowds and across a bridge, where we reached the Cambodian immigration and boarded on a free shuttle that took us to a transportation hub reserved (and mandatory) for all international visitors. There we encountered a bizarrely bureaucratic scheme (apparently Poipet has sort of a taxi mafia), and after negotiating with a noticeably tall Cambodian man for about 15 minutes we settled for a taxi ride to Siem Reap, where we would then be transferred for free to a tuk tuk, that would then deliver us to our guesthouse. Not quite sure if this was ture or not, we paid for a little over half of the ride, reserving the rest to the taxi driver once we reached our free transfer in Siem Reap.

The taxi ride, of course, was something else. Our driver would constant and erratically honk his horn every time he approached and/or passed someone, and made a couple of suspicious stops, where he would leave the car and talk to random people, something that left us quite confused. He eventually picked up an extra passenger, not that we had much of a say  in the matter. Two scam-fearing hours later, we miraculously arrived in Siem Reap and boarded our free tuk tuk connection, during which we had to try really hard to convey that we did have a guesthouse booked already and there was no need to drop us off elsewhere, thank you. So no, this story does not have an unpleasant climax, nor does it have any pictures, because the shady factor there was off the roof. In fact, Poipet made us wish we had visited Ciudad del Este, Paraguay (the third part of the Iguazu Falls triple border); despite its reputation for being a sketchy place, it would have probably looked like Switzerland in comparison to shifty Poipet.

***

Of course, we came to Siem Reap for the same reason 2 million other people do so every year: to see the Angkor Wat ruins (well, we also needed to renew Norika‘s visa, so we could also call it a glorified visa run). I won’t delve into the details of the temple complex too much, as that information is readily available. Overall, the temples were awesome, the weather was ruthlessly hot, the guilt-tripping Angkor kids were not as numerous as we expected, and the steepness of temple steps was not for the faint of heart. We should mention that the cost-benefit of a trip to Angkor Wat is not the greatest: the U.S. dollar is the de facto currency here, and prices are very inflated due to the touristy nature of the place. In other words, this is a better side leg of a Southeast Asia trip than a true holiday destination… unless you come with a large group of people who wants to play capture the flag in the ruins.

And now the photo fest. Ruins, roots (including Ta Prohm, the temple that got owned by nature and was made famous by the infamous Tomb Raider movie), the occasional monkey, the occasional monk, a partial sunset pic, Norika making fun of sunset viewers who decided to stick aroundthrough the bitter end and must have had an awful time getting down from the top of the temple, sunrise at Angkor Wat, more ruins.

***

Tomorrow we’ll be heading back to Poipet, crossing the border back into Thailand, taking a train to Bangkok and then another one down to the South. We hope to reach the island of Ko Jum by Friday mid-afternoon. We don’t expect to have Internet service on the island (possibly as a consequence, the place doesn’t exist on GoogleMaps), so no blogs will be published for the next week and a half, which doesn’t mean we won’t be writing them or taking pictures — it just means that our online presence will be null, and our lives will be significantly simpler for a few days…

I must have jinxed myself when I pointed out my lack of motorcycling experience, because a few hours after the last blog post Som decided she and her brother would come pick us up (on their motorcycles) the very next morning so we could all ride together to an organic farmer’s market. Clearly, I survived.

At the market we met one of Norika’s host moms and gave her a small, vacuum-sealed portion of dried Northern Michigan cherries. Our generosity, however, was quickly one-upped as she presented us with a bagful of fresh organic produce from her farm. Since we don’t turn down free food (even at a place where food barely costs anything), we went back to our hostel and reacquainted ourselves with our dormant cooking skills.

Oh, our hostel. Over the past couple of days, Norika and I realized that we cannot be classified as backpackers. Firstly, we don’t have a bulging backpack with dirty hiking shoes hanging off the back (our luggage has wheels and we are very grateful for them). Secondly, we find little pleasure in laying on the hostel’s living area floor watching stupid action flicks all day (not sure all backpackers do that, perhaps it’s just the odd breed that has been around here; at the risk of coming off like an elitist prick, who comes to Thailand to eat canned beans, spaghetti, mac n’ cheese, and french fries? That stuff probably cost about 3 times more than a regular Thai meal!  Anyway, I’m closing my parenthesis of negativity). Lastly, the economics of hostels dictate that, when traveling as a couple, it costs just as much to book a private room than stay at a dorm where you pay by the bed (and are forced to pay for two, regardless of your willingness to forgo comfort and share a twin). It is possible that our position on this may evolve a bit during our trip through Europe, but for now, we’re just travelers, thank you very much.

In any case, I shouldn’t criticize food choices so much, as some of the stuff that we’ve eaten over the past few days can be considered pretty offensive (especially to our bellies). The other night Som took us out to dinner, suggesting afterward that we go eat some toast. I was obviously quite confused as to why anyone would eat toast for dessert, especially after dinner, but was persuaded to accept the proposal based on the promise of ice cream. I was not disappointed: I had a delicious cup of black sesame (!)  ice cream. Som ordered the toast anyway: in pure Thai style, it was a sweet, covered not in butter or jam but rather by a generous dose of condensed milk. It was decadent.

That said, our most offensive meal, by far, was the all-you-can-eat Korean BBQ joint we went to a couple of nights ago. The place was huge: it looked like a large, wall-less warehouse with wooden booths (hundreds, I would estimate), with a stage in the front where musicians and comedians took turns trying to cause the most annoyance. In the middle, long tables were set up as a buffet, one with large platters of pre-made dishes, another with fruit, vegetables and mushrooms, a couple more with desserts, and finally the stars of the place: a bizarre selection of raw meats (not just chicken, pork or cow cutlets but also liver and other less identifiable things) and seafood (fish, squid, octopus, little shrimp, large shrimp, etc.), to be cooked by you, the customer, who will make use of an ingenious fire stove that sits in the middle of your table. The strange device features an elevated middle section where the meat is cooked, while the circle around it serves as a bowl where you make soup with vegetables and mushrooms and whatever else you decide to eat in this absurd, indulgent feast.

Perhaps consequently, we took the next day off and spent it sitting around our room reading and/or online. These restful hours proved to be a wise move, because yesterday was brutal. We got up at 5:45 a.m. to get to the station on the other side of town on time for the 7:00 a.m. bus toward Lampang, which would drop us off on the side of the highway so we could visit the Elephant Conservation Center (its actual name has been changed to Thai National Elephant Institute, or something like that). Despite making it to the station on time, we were told the 7 o’clock bus wouldn’t drop anybody off except at bus stops, so instead we had to wait till 8:30 a.m. before heading out on an hour-long trip to elephant land.

Unlike many (most?) other elephant camps in Thailand, this center actually treats its animals nicely, with a focus on healing elephants who get hurt elsewhere (the nation’s main elephant hospital is there). Sure, part of the deal was an elephant show where they busted out a couple of tricks (e.g. cool elephant paintings), but for the most part they were showcasing traditional domesticated elephant procedures, like moving around huge logs and so on.

The center also features an elephant dung paper “factory”, where the aforementioned product is manufactured by hand — and not just the elephants’ digestive system. It’s a neat sustainable process and the proceeds go straight back to the elephants’ bank accounts.

What has gone unsaid so far is that elephants are incredible (and that they have rather long eyelashes). It is amazing how one moment a creature can inspire such awe and respect, and then suddenly when they get a bit too close the feeling mutates into fear. They are huge, powerful, strong, and you just don’t wanna mess with them.

After catching a couple of the shows and seeing the animals bathe, we set out to find transportation back to Chiang Mai under the scorching afternoon sun. We crossed the highway, found shade, and hoped a bus of some sort would drive by and be gentle enough to pull over and pick us up. Really lucky us: the wait took less than 10 minutes.

A few hours later we met up with Som and P’Pae for a farewell dinner/night out: Som is going to Japan on Saturday, so P’Pae took us to a nice restaurant and picked out some more great food:  coconut milk soup, deep-fried morning glory, and a crazy seafood curry served inside of a coconut.

Then… we went out, one of those nights out for the ages, the kind that we can only pull off a few times a year. We  finally got to see the side of Chiang Mai that had been less apparent: that this city, at least of weekends, needn’t sleep, as long as bar owners have paid local enforcement a little extra something to keep from getting shut down after the city’s 2 a.m. curfew.

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