The night was young. The internet was out. The power had just come back on after a medium-sized respite.
I was laying on my bed reading my scriptures. Nobody had really been home that day. They were with Botevy in the hospital. She had gallstones. I'd been reading for a few hours when suddenly there was a knock on my door. Soon enough, Sunny came into my room and handed me my passport.
"It didn't work" she said.
Sunny's uncle works for the passport office. That was how I'd gotten my visa before. When my 30-day tourist visa was about to expire for the 2nd time, I sent the money, my passport, and my picture with Sunny to give to her uncle on her way to school. That's how it worked.
Well apparently it didn't.
"Why not?"
"They can not give you a visa again. So tomorrow we go to Thailand in the morning. Maybe 6:30 we wake up and we go. Maybe you bring some moneys for to buy something while we in Thailand."
"Are we going to drive?"
"No. I will call tuktuk tomorrow and we will go to the bus."
So I packed. I didn't plan on staying long in Thailand. At 6am I hear the doorbell. My room is right above the living room. my bedroom windows look out into the high ceiling of the front room. Sortof like a split-level. I always hear the doorbell. It wasn't time to get up yet was it? I mean, the alarm on the phone didn't even go off. I really liked that alarm. "It's time to get up. The time is 6:20am." over and over again. Nokias. No wonder they last so long. But the doorbell was incessant. So I went to get the door. Lo and behold Botevy had called a tuktuk driver for us. So we got ready and left. The sun was rising over the buildings. You could see the dust in the air more clearly as it took on the color of the sunrise. Polluted. But beautiful.
We were on a bus, on our way by 7am. After about 45 min of travel, the bus stopped for breakfast. They have these structures, like a pavilion, and there are people who sell fruit, others who sell roasted eggs on a stick, others who sell packaged snacks, more who sell drinks, and little kitchens next to long tables for those who want bigger meals. Sunny and I got eggs on a stick. Like hardboiled eggs. The girl gave us a bag of salt and pepper mixture to eat with it- because that's how they eat everything. I got a green mango and then we were off again.
Well, for a while. Sunny and I were sitting in the back of the bus because that's where there was room. It was a crowded bus, and the seats were not very comfortable but it was a ride and the countryside is nice.
But then the bus broke down. We were by a little stop on the side of the road. Another pavilion I guess, but on a much smaller scale. Like on I-15 when you hit that truckstop in the middle of nowhere. That's what this is. It was near a river, and there was a big log that lay across it so that people could go relieve themselves if they needed to. The little family that lived here sold packaged snacks and some bottled drinks. We all sat and waited for another bus to come. The people who were bound for a closer destination somehow disappeared. A bus going back the other way took them so that they'd be able to catch a different road I suppose. Sunny and I had a good chat with some girl who is a little bit older than I am. She was very sweet. With her limited English we talked about what she was doing in school but couldn't discuss why she was studying math even though she didn't really like it. It was so very hot, and it seemed like this was a popular hub for breaking vehicles. There was a truck across the way that was stopped. Every now and again somebody would get under it. It wasn't a much traveled road. Mostly busses and trucks. Every now and then you'd get motos carrying something bigger than should be allowed. We saw a few carts pulled by cows pass too.
After a couple hours of waiting, the replacement bus came. It's a beautiful thing. This bus was empty. The seats were much nicer, and the air worked wonderfully. We didn't have any cell service. Sunny was a little bit nervous. Today was the day of Botevy's surgery. We got to Poi Pet around 4pm. Poi Pet is the border town. We paid a moto driver to take us to the passport window things.
There were so many people. Lots of white people. It was odd. I don't see white people very often. It was almost comforting to know that other people spoke English, that is until they opened their mouths. I looked in their hands and their passports are red. And they're speaking Polish. Why? They ARE Polish. Well, I assume some were Russian. They were part of a touring group. Well I made it to the window, and since my visa had already expired they sent me across the street to another building. I payed the fee for the late visa and thought that I was scott free. But then they told me I had to go to Thailand.
I thought I was IN Thailand.
There were two buildings and a Police guy who let me cross the road. Wasn't that the boarder???
Nope. The boarder was down the street a ways. A block or so.
Sunny couldn't come with me. I'm not sure why. So I walked down the road. I asked all the official looking people I saw "Thailand?" and they'd point down the road
a little further.
It was rather obvious when I found it. Big red letters "Passport". The light was fading as it does around 5pm. There was a sense of urgency in the whole thing because someone had mentioned that the passport offices closed at 6pm. But the link can't be helped. Here I was again, with all the Polish people. It was very wise of me to bring my mosquito repellant. I used a lot of it.
I stood there in the non-domestic passport line and listened to people who still spoke a completely different language than I did. Suddenly Sunny was there by my side. It was quite remarkable because she had thought that she couldn't come, but there she was. The line was odd. They didn't let us into the barred lines under the pavilion until we'd been standing just outside them for about 15min. Then they let us move forward, and then, because nobody was in the domestic line, they let the tour group go in that line so we would get through faster.
We waited and waited. Since the tour group had to go together, they let the lesser conglomerate go faster, so I got into the actual building and waited in a much shorter line.
In the back of my mind I'd been wondering how much the Thai visa would be. It makes sense to me that I'd have to get a different visa to prove I'd left the country. I mean, Cambodia doesn't let you leave the airport without paying for a visa. Well, I read the signs and I got to the desk and it didn't cost a thing. There was a list of countries on the wall. It had all of them divided by how long they could be in Thailand without a purchased visa. I could have been in Thailand for 15 days and it wouldn't have cost anything passport-wise. Isn't that handy? So I went through that line and got a stamp that says
I arrived in Thailand and the date, and left through the door behind the counter.
This led us to another gated line. Like the ones for rides at theme parks.
We weaved our way around and walked a little bit and got into another line, this one was faster, and eventually got a stamp that says
I'm leaving Thailand. We made pretty good time. It was almost 6pm. The passport offices DIDN'T close until 8pm.
So we walked back to Cambodia. There is no street sign saying 'This is the boarder', but there is a large Arch that says "Kingdom of Cambodia". I wonder if that structure exists because of the French influence. Arches are big in France. We walk into the official office connected to the arch, and there is basically nobody there. Once I have my visa I go back to the first place, where I crossed the street and thought it was Thailand. And there they stamp my passport again.
In the line I met an American. His name was Alan. He figured I knew what I was doing. Well we all went to the bus station. Alan is sortof a freelance entrepreneur who has decided to sight-see and live in Southeast Asia for the rest of his life. He wanted to go to Siem Reap and Phnom Penh but wasn't very picky about the order. There was a bus leaving for Phnom Penh at 8pm, and it was 7:30. Can you say 'nailed it'?
There was a restaurant next to the station.
I wish I could go into your minds and erase all the connotations that you have stuck in there. This isn't a restaurant like Olive Garden. And this is not a station like Grand Central. It's more like eating under the Pavilion at Girl's Camp, and a small structure with a window where you buy tickets and there aren't enough benches for the people waiting for their buses.
The lady brought us glass cups and a small bucket of ice. She brought out our silverware in a cup of water. She brought us bottled water and napkins. You have to wipe out your cups before you put in the water and ice. You keep silverware in water for sanitation purposes I suppose. If you order food with big chunks of meat, they bring you little rounded plates and a lime half so you can make lime-pepper pasty sauce for it. But I had fried rice.
It was then that I realized it was Thanksgiving.
Never had I been more thankful to be in Cambodia. I'm sure I would have liked Thailand, but I didn't spend very much time there, so it's hard to judge. I was so very thankful that I had a ticket back home. I was thankful for the company of another English speaker. I was thankful for the experiences I had. I was a little overcome. Mine was so starkly different than anything I've ever dreamed up.
But onto the bus.
And they put all 3 white people on the back row or a sold-out trip. We have the longest legs. That doesn't make sense.
The other man's name was Mr Anderson. He is a 63 year old Swedish-born Britain American. It was fun to hear all of his stories about living around the world. He never married. He has lived in Cambodia for 7 years and it's the longest time he's ever lived in a place. He has owned hotels around the world, including Shianoukville where we went to the beach.
The bus started on it's way. Late of course, but no matter. We were crowded and uncomfortable, but the Khmer loved being packed together. They really do. Like sardines.
After about an hour of talking with Mr Anderson, I got into a really lengthy discussion about religion with Alan.
So. many. questions.
And it's here that I learn rather a lot. He didn't know very much about Mormons. He liked Mitt Romney, but didn't know what we have. And it was an incredible missionary opportunity, and I had my scriptures on hand, and I could answer all of his questions; it was a really cool experience.
We stop at another bus stop to get food and drinks or other trinkets. I didn't need anything so I got back to the bus rather quickly. I'm sure that Alan and I could have carried on our conversation about religion for much longer, but Mr Anderson turned to me before Alan returned to the bus. "So I hear you've been having a discussion about religion."
And I'm a bit excited, "Yes, are you religious?"
"No no, quite the opposite. I'm an Atheist."
And he gave his statement on why. "There is such pain in the world, people suffer so much. God, if there was one, would not let that happen."
I can't argue that there isn't suffering. Especially in this part of the world. But oh, what a sad outlook. I talked with him for a bit because it was interesting, but also very sad.
I have a thought. It's from my Intro to Psychotherapy class textbook.
"If we are not committed personally to the value of struggling, we will
not convince the clients that they should pay the price of their
struggle." Gerald Corey. I think God is a therapist.
The roads were bumpy. Alan told me all about Crossfit, of which he is an avid participant. There was a Crossfit training in Singapore that he wanted to go to in January. "Aside from that, I don't have any plans." It was interesting. It passed the time. The roads were too rough to sleep and we were too cramped to do so anyway. I'm pretty sure I got maybe an hour of rest. But eventually we made it to Phnom Penh. Sunny and I got a moto to take us home and I laid down on my bed at 6:10am. Exactly 24 hours since I'd left it.
