The 5000 Project

The border crossing was quite dodgy, first off, there are guys standing just outside the immigration booth who take your passport then fill in the visa application for you, then demand cash in order to get your passport back. Thankfully I was warned of this by the Expats in trat and was quite happy to fill in the paperwork myself, they asked for my passport but I declined. Another dodgy thing is that most border crossings for Cambodia cost $20 for the visa, the visa itself has $20 printed on it, this crossing only allows payment in baht, 1000 baht, which is around $30.

The third dodgy was a big one. There were a bunch of foreigners with a ticket already booked for sihanoukville, their lift to the bus station had arrived, I asked if I too can get a ticket. It would cost 650b ($20). I was reluctant at first as I knew the distance to the southern beach is short, the American tourists convinced me that transport in Cambodia is expensive, and I felt a little isolated on the border – so I paid it out.

Considering I didn’t book, I was thrown on a different bus to the others as their bus was full. The ticket guy pointed out the bus and I hopped on, the name of the destination on the bus was in Cambodian, I trusted it was heading in the right direction.

4hrs later, after seeing large markets and thick population for a beach town, the bus stops. Time to get off. I was a little puzzled, it surely didn’t look like a coastal town. I inquired as to where I was – the reply was quite a shock.

“Phnom penh”

I asked again incase I didn’t pick up the accent

“Phnom penh”

A view from the bus, sure doesnt look like a coastal town...

I spoke with the closest bus agency employee that I could find and raised my ticket that clearly showed Koh Kong to sihanoukville. After a bit of quiet spoken diplomatic ranting I convinced the guy to give me a free ticket to sihanoukville, the next available was the next morning at 7:30. What grinded my gears a little more was the fact that the bus tickets normally cost $8 – same price for both destinations. The locals had a good chuckle when I told them how much I paid. I put on a smile to stay diplomatic.

They offered me a tuktuk ride to the hostel suburb for $2, which was apparently very far from here. They offered a ride for the morning too, and mentioned that it would be difficult to direct a normal tuktuk driver as the bus station was privately owned and they had many in the city with the same name. I asked for the name of the street so that i can use it as an identifier; and the direction in which to walk to the hostel suburb, once pointed I walked with fair haste as it was fairly late in the day.

Along the way I constantly declined tuktuk and motorbike drivers, there was one tuktuk driver who knew a bit of english; when he asked if I wanted to stay in a hotel, I asked him if I could stay at his place in a semijoking way. We both had a chuckle when he declined and I assumed that would be that, unfortunately he followed me for the next two hours. He even sat with me while i was eating some noodles at a street kitchen – this would have been an awesome experience dining with a local, if he said anything other than:

“hotel?”
“girls?”
*quietly* “… want some weed? Its ok to do in cambodia”

He repeated these words frequently,  this is when I noticed his English wasn’t as good as I previously assumed. I politely declined and tried to let him know that he has picked the wrong foreigner and that he would make much more money if he wasn’t where I was at all times. Unfortunately he didn’t understand, and there were no other foreigners to lure him away.

I asked locals where a netcafe is so that I can try a last minute couchsurf, one guy was about to point me in the right direction before he had a chat with my tuktuk buddy in Cambodian. Feeling a little annoyed I kept heading in the same direction as was pointed out initially and eventually found a hostel… for $14/night… it was starting to get dark, the tuktuk guy was still following me I asked him to go home and have dinner… he told me that he has no money for dinner. I felt sad but wasn’t sure if he was telling the truth, if he can waste fuel following me around on a tuktuk for 2hrs, he should have enough for food… or perhaps this is his last desperate attempt.

I decided to take a few different turns in busy streets to lose the guy, my mind was conflicted but I know that I didn’t trust him after my day of being conned I wasn’t in a trusting mood. I eventually came across the hostel suburb and after asking around and bartering for the cheapest room, I got one for $5.

I lay down on the bed and closed my eyes for a second. I immediately opened them when I realised that I had completely forgotten the name of the street that the bus terminal is on, also I had no idea how to walk back. I logged into the hostel wifi and Google mapsed the shit out of it. There was only a main office address listed for the bus company, I was sure that wasn’t the location, I tried to trace my path back on the map and was 50% sure I knew how to get back.

I had an early night and woke up early. My memory served me well, I found the way back very early, bought a baguette for breakfast and waited for the bus. The bus, thankfully, took me to the sunny beaches of sihanoukville… only without the sun. It was raining heavily… and it didn’t seem to stop. I guess its the wrong season for this part of the world.