Our minibus driver dropped us off near the border, at a smart looking cafe, where we were handed immigration and quarantine forms. Luckily on the advice of others, we soon realised it was our first scam, and stood our ground when we said we just wanted to be driven to the border to get our paperwork, without paying these jerks an extra 20 quid. They luckily obliged, and we arrived at the chaotic Thai-Cambodian border. Heathrow Terminal 5 it was not. Of course at the exact right time, the rain arrived, particularly hot and stinky today, and we were left drenched, wondering where the hell to go, and what was real and what wasn't.
We made it to the actual visa office, where the officials charged us the full visa fee of $20, plus a few Thai baht on the side. I initially tried to argue that this was not what we were supposed to be paying, but for the sake of 4 quid I was pleased not to be dragged into some backroom and have a Cambodian finger shoved up my butt and just paid it.
Another pretty stamp in my passport and another minibus ride to the exchange station on the Cambodian side, we were told we would have to wait another 2 and a half hours for a coach, which would then take 5 hours to Siem Reap. We thought better and hopped in a cab organised by our guide, which would take 2 hours and we could leave there and then. After our cab driver stopped in the middle of nowhere and picked up a number of rolled up bamboo shoots and a cellophane bag of brown stuff (I'm still hoping this was ornamental decking for his garden and a bag of desert sugar), he dropped us in Siem Reap. A further moto (tuk-tuk) ride later, we realised the whole damn place was completely flooded. We were dropped at a random hotel where our kindly guest house owner came to meet us. With flood water up to our knees, I guess it was kind of like a bad year at Glastonbury, and I've seen plenty of them, only this time with added Dengue Fever (there's currently an outbreak). We took what they call a "Cambodian limousine" (a tractor carting residents around) the rest of the way.
Our hotel is usually near the river, although at the moment it's actually in the river, with waves right outside the front door and which we had to wade through the flood to get to. I've also just been informed there was a crocodile farm down the road, where they rear the crocs for meat in little bamboo pens. Only when the flood waters rose, the crocs slipped out on their merry way and probably into my bedroom.
There are no words. Big shout out to my travelling buddies Fran and Beckie for seeing me through this character building, life affirming experience / ordeal.
Our tuk-tuk for Angkor Wat is booked for 11am tomorrow, where hopefully things will start to make sense.
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