Hemorrhagic fever in Cambodia? Oy

Sooooo last night was our first night in Cambodia. We crossed the border between Thailand and Cambodia in Poipet. That was a trip into a Martin Scorsese film, complete with crumbling tile floors, rotating fans, and peasants pushing carts filled with garbage through the no-man's land of casinos. Very dusty. Disturbing in its use of recycled materials to maintain a roof over the head or food in the belly. We were the only travelers with luggage, the rest had backpacks. There we were, two middle-aged people pushing our Samsonites across the broken asphalt. There were no "Welcome to" signs, we were just glad to make it through the inspection we received by both the Thai and the Cambodian officials.

Ahead of us was a golden family from Sweden: Mom, Pop, 8 year old daughter, 11 year old son. In front of them was a dark haired young woman reading a book while standing in line. She was traveling with two men. We've since seen her here in Siem Reap. Behind us were two Australian women traveling with one man. The poor guy was caught in the middle of the two women bickering about something. It made Dave & I look like angels.

The ride from Bangkok to the Thai border was comfortable, in a clean car with good a/c. The driver only had to pay off the cops once. The Thai police were just waving people over. The driver handed him his paperwork & money beneath it. We were waved on past. Then we got to the town outside of the Thai border. The driver pulled over to the side of a bank. We were waiting for the person who was to walk us through the border. Yes, we were going to pull out our three bags (we started with two, but then I went shopping...), walk to ... where? Who thought this would be a good idea?

Finally, the person who was to walk us through the border showed up, talking on his cell phone. Our driver had him sign for us and our baggage. At least someone had proof we were passing through. Then we started walking through the market area. We got in the line for "foreigners". The guy walking us through was able to walk straight through - with one of our bags - because he does this for a living I guess. So, we'd just let a stranger walk off with one of our bags. Uh, maybe not such a good idea, but waaaaaaaa(aaaaayyyyyyyy)yyyyy tooo late to do anything about it. So, we took stock in our surroundings.

Outside the area where we were the cargo passing through the border was going through inspection. And yes, they did open boxes and check things out. We passed through the Thai customs with more facial recognition software scanning us for who we were (I must look the same even with corn rows in my hair) then we began the walk through the no-man's land. All the Thais headed to the casinos. The Cambodians pushing the carts filled with plastic bottles, or plastic bags, or plastic drums, the foreigners, & Dave & I kept walking. Our "guide" set a good pace for someone pushing a Samsonite stuffed with stuff after I've been shopping.

We walked into a shed building, he thrust some paperwork into our hands & told us to fill it out & stand in line. Passing through customs is always one person at the official's window, the other person left behind. Dave & I got lucky & b/c there were two lines we each got in one & they moved about the same pace. The Cambodian police were making sure that no one left the building without their paperwork. One of the Australian women had stepped outside for a ciggie when he started poking her for her paperwork. She kept saying, "I haven't got it yet. I haven't got it." When that finally got communicated he did let her be so she could finish the ciggie at the shed door, but Dave didn't step out to have nic hit.

We both were processed into Cambodia when our "guide" got us onto the Cambodian taxi service's bus. The bus took us to the taxi terminal. The "taxi", well, it did have air conditioning, the same way my breath provides a breeze. Dave also got in on the side where the sun beat down on him like a baseball bat. He was cranky oh, in about three minutes. Plus, we'd left our water locked in his suitcase and that was NOT the suitcase up front with the driver.

The ride to Siem Reap showed us the Cambodian countryside. Flat. Dusty. They were burning the fields. I think there were three trees left. The road was quite nice, but like Vietnam, the Cambodian's don't seem to believe in driving between the lines. They're freer thinkers than that. Our driver liked to slow down while going around a curve even though he was passing someone on the right so he was driving in the left lane. No, this wasn't Thailand where driving in the left lane was the lane to drive forward in. This is Cambodia. American style. Heck, everything trades in the U.S. dollar here in Siem Reap. You drive in the right lane. When you feel like it. Unless you want to honk your horn as you pass a cow and drive in the left in the face of on-coming traffic. I don't think the solid yellow line has the same sort of meaning to the Cambodian psyche as it does to the American.

The driver finally stopped at one of the thatch & tin sheds along the roadside. A twelve year old girl was going to sell us a bottle of water at 20 baht each until Dave showed her he only had a twenty. She let us take two & let him use the bathroom. She liked my corn-rows very much and wanted to know where I got them and how much they cost. She was very impressed with the 300 Baht price tag ($10). She liked my white skin. She thought David was nice. Her brother tied some pretty knotwork around my wrist. I didn't want to pay for it. Dave came rushing out of the toilet, he said, b/c he heard me saying, "No. No. No money. No thank you." The kids just wanted to talk to us for ten minutes. Okay.

Talking to foreigners is their language lesson. "I don't write so good." might be a common response, but they can speak a heck of a lot better English than I can Cambodian.

More later