Date: Sat, 9 Sep 2000 10:14:23 -0700 (PDT)
From: Jay Schneider
Subject: Where in the world is…?
Well, folks, here it is another installment (the third?) in the continuing adventures of Jay (me), and his (my) ongoing attempt to impress everyone (you) with his (my) ability to make goofing-off and delaying re-entry into the real world sound like amazing and important stuff…
English version…
So I’ve survived Cambodia, and with a quick check, all limbs are still accounted for and no symptoms of malaria are present. I think it’s safe to say things’ll be okay (though I hear hepatitis has a 3-week incubation period, so we’ll have to see about that…).
My final two days in Cambodia were spent in the seaside town of Sihanoukville, which in addition to being a new view of Cambodia, would also be my exit point for my trip back into Thailand. While in no way rivaling those of its neighboring countries, the beaches were pleasant, and filled with the locals, escaping from the capital for the weekend. In spite of the occassional rain (several storms had just passed through), I enjoyed myself at the beach, and was able to prove the effectiveness of my sunscreen–by later discovering the areas I failed to cover. (don’t laugh at the strange pattern on my back…) Wandered around some markets, did some reading, and, though tempted by the nearby go-kart track, decided I was content with my time not only in Sihanoukville, but Cambodia as well. It was time to move on. (My visa, expiring the next day, was in agreement with this.)
And move on I did, with another memorable border crossing. The first boat (which had been cancelled in previous days due to storms in the Gulf of Thailand), was similar to the one I rode from the Ankgor Temples to the capitol. It looks like a mini-Boeing 747 with the wings chopped off. Though in my past trip’s ticket included a seat number, I didn’t make use of it, preferring to sit atop the vessel, enjoying the view, the air and the sun (for those of you who’ve been paying attention to previous updates will be happy to know my legs have returned to a natural color). This also allowed for easy escape if the need to abandon ship arose. That’s not to say the cramped quarters of these well-used and well-worn Malaysian-made craft don’t inspire confidence in the average passenger…well, perhaps that is what I’d like to say. At any rate, due to stormy and wet weather conditions, all passengers had to sit below deck. You can imagine how I was the envy of the ship, sitting next to one of the few emergency windows. I contemplated half-unscrewing the release bolts–just in case…
A few hours later, I jumped ship (by means of the usual route, not the escape hatch), with other border-crossers, to make the final leg of my trip to the border. After a quick check-in with immigration police, I hopped into a small motor boat with a Canadian, two Israelis, a Brit and two Thais, for a 40 minute ride through the mangroves. We zipped along, bouncing higher and higher with each wave we hit, and I remembered racing around Catalina Island in my cousin’s dinghy when I was younger(I had more confidence in my cousin’s skippering ability, and at the time he was a teenager). My worries about our packs bouncing overboard (okay, MY pack, at the TOP of the heap, being bounced overboard), were quickly put to rest as the bags settled down, mostly on top of the poor Israelis who thought the fron seat would provide a good view. I apologized for their inconvenience, but they were quite happy for the protection my bag gave them from the sea water which splashed in at each bump. Besides, the weight of my pack kept THEM anchored in as well. When we hit the open waters of the gulf, we thought perhaps the driver misunderstood us, and was going to take us all the way to Bangkok. Then we regained sight of land, and made way for the shore ahead. We were dumped off at a non-descript, muddy little shore, and there was a bit of confusion as to where we were. I was convinced we must be near the border, and finally spotted a flag of Thailand in the distance. Between us and that point, however, was a barbed-wire fence. At one end, a gate and a road, at the other a muddy path leading to a whole in the fence. Not sure which direction to go, I figured, guards, fencing and land mines would generally keep me on the right path (I’m kidding about the land-mines, I’d rather be nicely pointed in the right direction then losing a leg to figure out I went the wrong way)., and headed for the road. Someone in a uniform (where did he come from?) started yelling “No, No!” and pointed toward the hole in the fence. (See, I knew something would cue me in the right direction.) Walk on the board over the ditch, through the fence, past the “Immigration Police” shack filled with men totally uninterested in us immigrants, muddy stretch, gravel field, ah! at last a proper structure (filled with officials and everything), to stamp my passport and official bid me farewell. As the border guard returned my passport, a tear welled in my eye. And, I’m pretty sure moments after I stepped away from the window, I saw the official wipe discretely wipe a tear away from his own eyes. No “tip” from this parting foreigner…
Back in Thailand, the infrastructure shock overwhelmed me. Paved roads, cities, lights, surely this is the most advanced and wonderful country on the face of the earth! (It’s amazing what context and perspective can do to one’s perception of things). Had to move fast because I wanted to get to Bangkok that night. Mini-van to city of Trat. Bus station. Run on to the last bus for the evening. Run off last bus for the evening (nature called). Get very upset at the guy who’s taking such a long time in the bathroom while I’m jumping around outside. See the bus pulling away. Run to the bus, back on the bus, thanking the unknown soul who by taking so much time in the toilet, allowed me to be re-united with my backpack on the bus. I settled down for the 5-6 hour bus ride to Bangkok.
Many questions raced through my mind as I slowly rode away from the country which had taken me in, and shown me so much hospitality during the past month: how had my time in Cambodia affected me as a person? Would I ever make it back there again? will I be able to use a restroom between here and Bangkok?
For answers to these and other questions, be on the look out for the next installment of “the perpetually-changing-titled adventures of Jay”…