Approaching the border to Cambodia, I started doing my final checks of my situation and assessment of facts. I realized at 80 km, I would not be absolutely sure I could make it the Tay Ninh border before the limited Christmas Eve hours now illustrated through google maps, so out of Go Dao, I back tracked some 10 km and headed due west for the busy and well known crossing of Bavet, made popular from the traffic between Saigon and Phnom Penh which are the two largest cities in these neighboring countries of Cambodia and Vietnam.
Arriving somewhere close to noon, I was approached immediately by a couple of guys on motorbikes suggesting that they help me out. Having been to the pyramids and been hounded by people looking for a few bucks for really nothing, these idiots bothered me right away. It took the whole time crossing to fend them off and they finally got the picture and gave up after I got through the final gate and started into Cambodia.
The procedure there was virtually effortless, 1$ US for the processing fee, and $35 US for the visa itself which is valid for 30 days. No hassle, no scams, no rude guards, no problem. I even had a few people come out and look me and my bike over, and I accepted a picture or two. It was only after I was off and on my way when I realized that not only had this procedure been a total breeze, but I don’t think anyone even searched my bike or even took any notice to do so?
The terms widely used in Cambodia for a place for me to stay are; Homestay, or Guesthouse. The first one I stayed at was $5, and I got what I paid for. I slept on top of the covers as the room had no A/C or fan, and I bug sprayed myself after my shower to make double sure I would be alright. That didn’t protect me from Dance Mix ’93 on full volume, starting at 4am, but it was amazing to wake up to. I have the street vendors to thank for that I guess.
“Just go up this way, very easier.” Ok, no problem, I said, in-between two of the ten bits of fried bread I bought off of a very nice lady who had a shop on the side of the road. I handed her the equivalent of two dollars and got some change back. My super helpful local on a motorcycle had stopped in at just the right time to bridge the gap and get me ten of these breads, but also get me going in the right direction. I was full and on my way down the road again, which turned from pavement to a very dusty and dirty farming trail barely big enough for myself and a open cab tractor to pass each other on. Not that anyone slowed down to make sure. Thinking and hoping that this road would eventually become rideable once again had me cranking out distance as best I could in an effort to find a place to sleep, and as the sun was rapidly setting I was gassed.
I decided tonight was the night I would try my tent out and make the best of it, as I pulled into a big open area with yellow deserted buildings and what looked like a few people playing soccer with their kids off in the near distance. I leaned my ride up against the thick stone railing of the first structure, and as the family was done running up the score on their kids, they started my way to leave the area. I gestured by pointing my hands above my head in the shape of a roof, and the Dad gave me a thumbs up, so I started towards my new home but was called back after they saw how filthy I was. There was an old fashioned hand pump well that everyone was using to clean themselves off with, and when they were all finished and waving good bye, I followed suit and gave myself a solid rinsing.
A few local kids rode up on their bikes and surrounded me for hours until the leader got a call from his mom and had to go home. I shared some donuts and fried bread as they left and was honestly glad to see them go, after they tried to steal everything off my bike as a souvenir I knew I had to wait it out as tired as I was. Setting up my tent in the faded, single light of a nearby motorcycle repair shop was a breeze, and I was lying down on smooth, cool concrete in no time. Cambodian drinking music was generously all around the town and cutting through the trees. My laptop case was a perfect pillow and suited my approach of keeping everything valuable inside the tent with me. I spooked the local dog pack as I rustled around and they came to investigate me and my “new” smell, a loud single clap rang in the awning as they found their way out of my vicinity. Merry Christmas.
Oh, wow, 5:30, that’s pretty early for some school children, a police officer and some local ladies to be gathering in this area? I guess I might as well get moving though, who knows when those kids might show up again. As I unzipped my tent I could feel attention on me immediately and thought I’d better get going soon, and I pulled my shirt and shorts off the handlebars to get dressed in the privacy of my tent before facing these people. I climbed out to see some twelve kids in school uniforms, standing speechless and staring at me like I was on fire. Awful lot of kids here, maybe this is where they all gather before school or something? Waking up a little more with each passing minute, I realized I had camped on the front step of a private school, and would soon be a spectacle for some two hundred Cambodian kids.
They seemed to never stop coming, and soon the whole school was crowded around me and watching me fold up my tent, get my things together and set my bike up for the long day ahead. I’m still not sure how they felt about me as I started to brush my teeth and stretch my arms back like I had all the time in the world, but I do know that some of them were quite amused.
I walked my bike out through an enormous crowd of onlookers, Sus-Tae, Hello, I said on repeat as I left, which was echoed with a mockery of my voice and intense, screamy laughter everytime I said it. I felt watched for yet another fifteen minutes down the road and was sure that teacher must’ve had quite the time settling her students down that day.
As far as wrong turns go, however, this one was not all that bad. A blessing in disguise, I had some local ladies hand me a bag of donuts, which they would not accept any payment for. I think they were more interested in what I could possibly be doing all the way out there? I found myself in farming villages, far and beyond anything a tour would be able to offer, wandering but far from lost, and finding myself on a real adventure. 