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The Adventures of ROMAN WANDERAUGH Bangkok to Siem Reap Cambodia
For the Wanderaugh taking a trip as a backpacker was a first time experience. It was like a seek and find mission or… the Wanderaugh goes undercover. The issue is how do we get from Bangkok's Khao San Road to Siem Reap, Cambodia the home of the famed Angkor Wat Temples that some call the eighth wonder of the world. It was something that we had to see. After our scrounging around Bangkok's Khao San Road, the backpackers heaven, and talking to the travel agents we thought we had heard all of the stories and sales pitches of how to get to Siem Reap. The travel agency I dealt with had a rep that made the arrangements for the trip [see Khao San Road ]. He assured me that the pick up truck that would take me from the border town of Poipet, Cambodia to Siem Reap was comfortable, covered and equipped with seating in the back. I pressed the issue having heard many different stories that conflicted with his. To listen to him tell it, I was going to be furnished with reclining airplane seats [joking]. I took that with a pound of salt expecting the worse. "Yea, yea sure, sure don't worry," I was told regarding my concern for comfort and not being rained on in the back of a uncovered pick up truck. The Wanderaugh is an old man by backpackers standards, but a determined one and one who wanted to find out what this backpackers experience was all about. Traveling has its problems. As the sleepy eyed travelers packed into the van on Khao San Road, there were two late arrivals. Two wide bodied American College students with Big Mac butts had to sit up front in the last two remaining seats. As the driver noticed he had no room to properly turn the steering wheel two very small European girls were asked to change seats with the Big Mac's. They refused. Divine intervention then occurred. A small Japanese tourist and a thin European traveler offered to trade their seats in the rear of the van. The shuffling began and there was then no need to call in the NATO forces to keep the peace and Colin Powell could focus on more important matters. We then became a harmonious group of contented International travelers. Well… maybe. The second problem was getting out of early mourning Bangkok traffic in the shinny jet black, Road Runner van equipped with chrome exhausts and a driver with blond spiked hair. WOW!!! We were living large. The Road Runner blasted down a road that showed some of the unglamorous portions of Thailand. We passed small towns and countryside that were a bit on the arid side. A pit stop was made for refreshments and servicing our bodily needs. At the border colored badges were issued to us for identification purposes. We figured that's how the Khao San Mafia [see Khao San Road ] worked out a code for distribution of payments to its agents. After checking out of Thailand through Thai immigration we then were processed by Cambodian immigration. There is a game being played here called International Heath certificates. The Cambodian immigrations officer indiscriminately asks some tourists if they have it. The answer is usually NO. I actually met only one person that had one and he was never asked before after having traveled much of the world. If tourists don't have the health certificate they are then charged 50 to 100 baht. Why the charge and why the discrepancy in price? There is no answer. Who gets the money? There is no answer. Having finished with that we were then shuffled off to a waiting pickup truck. WOW!!! No reclining airplane seats, what a surprise! There was no cover from the sun or rain. Yea, yea, sure sure. Ahhh…. Well now. The Wanderaugh negotiated a price to put his beat up old body in the cramped rear seat inside the cab of the pickup. Not so comfortable but it was better than sitting on hot metal and being exposed to the blistering sun. The reputation of the road ahead was a nightmare. It was said to have holes large enough to hide a water buffalo. I expected it to be paved with asphalt. Wrong in both instances. The holes in the road were deep enough to hide the cab of a Mack truck [exaggerating] and no asphalt, it was dirt and the area arid and dusty. I mentioned to a Frenchman traveling in the cab with me that this road was worse than I expected. I noted that it was axle city. I joked that if I opened a shop fixing axles on the road that I would be a millionaire in a year's time. I was soon to find out that I was somewhat of a prophet. After passing several disabled trucks that were either overturned from not negotiating the huge holes properly or they laid victim of broken axles, we arrived in the small town Sisophon. It was the halfway point of our journey. Sisophon was once a stronghold of the Khmer Rouge army. While there, industrious children converged on our truck to sell us beverages. They were persistent and they had some willing customers who were wilting from an afternoon of being exposed to a scorching sun.
One little enterprising 10-year-old vendor, Vondy spoke very good English. After trying to charge me four times the price for a bottle of water we started serious negotiations. After getting almost to the right price she started to scold me in Khmer in front of her numerous fellow child vendors. Not knowing what she was saying I sensed that it was not very nice. I leaned over and got right into her face and said, "What did you say?" Laughter broke out from the crowd that included the truck's driver. She then stopped trying to take advantage of me and sold me the water at the fair price. I walked away to drink it and she followed. She then pursued in trying to sell me a soda, which I bought. I took her picture with one of her vendor friends [see: Travel Tips - March, 2001 ]. I then walked back to the truck and she followed. As I was shutting the door she held her hand on it to keep it from closing and asked, What is your name? Where are you from? Are you married? Do you have a girlfriend? How old are you? The drilling of the questions took me back. Vondy's persistence was amusing. We said goodbye and off we backpackers went in the truck for the next leg of out journey. A mission that we were soon to find was almost impossible. Just about dusk and about fifteen minutes outside of town a loud POW went off. It wasn't a gunshot. I looked at my French travel-mate and said, "That's an axle." A Khmer jumped from the rear of the truck. He jacked up the vehicle, did something to the axle and we were off and running back to town within 10 minutes. The axle shop was about to close. A team of mechanics swarmed the truck and started to take the axle apart. Within 45 minutes we were back on the road with a repaired axle, wheel bearing and ty-rod. Lucky us….and credit to the mechanics. At night there was a roadblock at the entrance of a bridge. We were stopped by non uniformed armed men. The driver sternly said a few choice Khmer words and we were on our way in minutes. The remainder of the journey was uneventful. We arrived in Siem Reap two hours late road weary, thirsty and hungry. With the horrific but enjoyable conditions behind us the next step was to see what some call the eighth wonder of the world…The Akgkor Wat Temples. Next: Hot to Trot At: The Angkor Wat.
Roman Wanderaugh may be reached at: nationalradio@yahoo.com Copying or reuse of this material is prohibited unless authorized in writing by National Radio. Contact: nationalradio@yahoo.com |
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