Sad Farewell to Cambodia

It was with heavy hearts that we packed and prepared to leave Cambodia. We truly loved our time there and would have stayed longer but for the fact that our visas expired the next day. Sof picked us up at 10:00 AM to driver us the 1.5 hours to the newly opened Vietnamese border crossing at Na Tien.

P- I feel very sad to be leaving Cambodia.

G- Me too. The way this country and its people have touched us is inexplicable. I don't think I could ever put it into words, but I feel my soul has been changed by my time here.

P- I do too! I am very glad we got our tattoos here. Cambodia will always be with us.

G- I agree, and we have to come back here again. Maybe when Connor finishes medical school he'll want to volunteer in a clinic here and we could join him.

P- He would love it here and he loves working with kids. These kids would steal his heart.

G- Remind me to tell him that. Now I see why Angelina adopted a Cambodian child.

P- Isn't the first child she adopted Cambodian.

G- I think so, after she was here filming Tomb Raider. Maybe we can return and teach English or work in an orphanage.

P- I'd like that.

We spent our last little bit of time in Cambodia waiving to kids, watching people go about their daily lives, and of course, getting coated in red dust. About a mile from the border we were swarmed by motorcycles, driven by men yelling to us in Vietnamese.

P- What the hell are they saying?

G- I have no idea, but I think we're already in a tuk-tuk. Ignore them and they'll go away.

P- I think they intend to follow us to the border.

Sof drove us to the end of the road, literally, the end of Cambodia, and stopped at the cross bar. As we attempted to unload our bags and tell Sof good-bye, the motorcycle drivers yapped endlessly about driving us to Na Tien. They wanted $5.00 each to which we scoffed. We had paid Sof $15.00 to drive us for an hour and a half and they wanted $5.00 to drive us for 10 minutes. Sof intervened and told them it was too much but they would not relent. We declined their offers and walked to the wooden hut next to the cross bar where a Cambodian agent checked our passports and directed us across the street to a window. There our Cambodian visas were removed and our passports were stamped with the exit date.

The motorcycle drivers were still there when we turned around, and to our surprise, so was Sof. He smiled at us and again negotiated with the the motorcycle drivers until they agreed on $5.00 for both of us. We were touched that he stayed to help us and thanked him profusely, waiving as we rode the approximate 100 yards, of no man's land, to the Vietnamese border. Whereas our crossing from Thailand into Cambodia was long, hot, and arduous, our crossing into Vietnam was as simple as walking through a building. The motorcyclists dropped us off on one side of the building and drove, with our packs, to the other side.

We entered, completed the health questionnaire and paid our $1.00/each to have the agent press a digital thermometer to our necks and confirm that we did not have fever. We put our day packs through the scanner that no one was watching, and handed our passports to the Vietnamese agent to verify and stamp.

P- Tell me what sense it makes to have us put only the bags we're carrying in the scanner when our big packs were driven around on the motorcycles.

G- It makes no difference anyway because no one was looking at the scanner.

P- And why did we just have to pay $1.00 each?

G- I believe that was the charge for the medical exam.

P- The what?

G- Having our temperature taken. Our medical exams. Who the hell knows.

P- Thank Gawd he didn't try to take our temps rectally.

G- I'd be in a Vietnamese jail!   Everything costs 1 dolla!

P- Not anymore, Vietnam doesn't use the US dollar, they use dongs.

G- I don't really care for that name.

P- Well get used to hearing it.

After passing the final guard building, and going around the cross bar, we learned that Vietnam requires all motorcycle drivers, and their passengers, to wear helmets. The ride to Na Tien took only 10 minutes and because we had no hotel reservations, the drivers delivered us to the 'bus station', a metal overhang, approximately a block long, with buses parked underneath. We hadn't even gotten off the bikes yet when.................

Man – You have hotel?

P- No.

G- You want to recommend one?

Man – You go to Can Tho?

P- Eventually.

Man – Bus leave in 30 minutes. You go to Can Tho.

P- We're not going anywhere now. Maybe tomorrow.

Man – No bus tomorrow. Holiday.

G- OMG! How many times are we going to be told this bullshit?!?!

He was still talking as we paid the motorcycle drivers and walked away. That didn't stop him from following us. As we walked to the 3 hotels we had seen around the corner 2 other guys began to follow us and ask the usual questions: where you from? you take tour? You go to this hotel. I cannot tell you how annoying and frustrating it is to have people swarming you and yap, yap, yapping while you're trying to orient yourself, carry your crap, and find a place to stay. It is by far, the worst thing about traveling through Asia, the relentless buzzing around you that prevents you from thinking or ever having a moment of peace while walking down the street.

We selected a room at the second hotel we viewed. It had air con, a mini fridge, and hot water in an en suite bathroom, and cost $10.00. The border crossing at Na Tien had opened only 2 months ago and it was evident that this town was unaccustomed to seeing western faces. We garnered many stares as we walked around town and found few people who spoke English. But it was a cute town, set on a river, with a vibrant market in a large yellow building.

We were strolling along the river, through an outside fruit & vegetable market, when a woman sat up in her lawn chair to stare at us. She looked me over, then turned her attention to Phyl which prompted a huge grin on her face. She pointed at Phyl's breasts, cupped her own and jiggled them up and down as she started to laugh hysterically. She turned to a woman behind her and jabbered something in Vietnamese, pointed at Phyl, and resumed laughing hysterically.


P- WTF?!!!!

G- That may be one of the rudest displays of ogling your breasts that I have ever seen and it was done by a woman and not a man!

P- I'm not sure if she was ogling or making fun of them, but why does she think that's ok?

G- I don't know babe, but you know Asian women have small boobs. Yours just freak them out.

P- Well, behavior like hers is totally rude, I don't care how small her boobs are.

We walked less than a block farther and came across the foul section of the market. Under separate umbrellas sat chickens and ducks. At first we thought they were dead, but they were very much alive with their feet tied so they couldn't run off. We stood, watching dumbfounded, as a man rode up on his motorcycle and selected a rooster which was handed to him by its feet. The seller held out a plastic grocery bag into which the purchaser placed the rooster, head first. The seller then tore a hole into the corner of the bag out of which the roosters head protruded as it, and the buyer, rode away on the motorcycle.

G- This trip is affording us the opportunity to live in the past, America's past, Asia's present. It's fascinating.

P- I guess that rooster was going to be dinner.

G- I don't know. If it was for dinner wouldn't he have selected a hen? Maybe he needs a mate for his hens.

P- Or maybe he needs a rooster for a cock fight.

G- Didn't think of that. That's one thing that's not the past in America. At least not in Louisiana where cock fighting is still legal. At least it was the last I heard.

P- I think it still is.



Where's the parade?

 It was hot as hell so we returned to the hotel to cool off. I took a quick shower, something my shaved head, and lack of make up, made exceedingly easy to do, and we relaxed for several hours. After dark we went in search of something light for dinner. The streets were packed with people strolling, shopping in the market, and eating at street carts. We were finding it difficult to find a place to eat due to the language barrier and because we only wanted soup. Finally we stumbled across 3 ladies sitting at a table, next to a street cart, on a corner. They were eating soup. We looked at the cart, then into their bowls. One of the ladies held up her bowl so that we could see what she was eating.

G- That looks good. Let's try it.

P- Ok. It looks safe enough.

We smiled at the lady and held up 2 fingers. She nodded and pointed to the table behind hers. 4 tables lined the sidewalk and 4 in the street. It must be said that these tables, and chairs, were the size used in kindergartens, and made of plastic. We sat down and our knees were parallel with our chests and the same height as the table. The other patrons of this restaurant looked at us as if we had 3 heads each. A man, presumably her husband, brought the huge bowl of soup to our table.



Soup for you!

 G- Let's see what's in here.

P- It's so dark, it's hard to see.

G- I see carrots, some greens, this tastes like a mushroom.

P- I've got chicken and noodles.

G- Yes, I have a piece of chicken too, but also, I think this is a piece of duck. What is this?

P- I'm not sure what that is. What does it taste like?

G- I can't tell. The soup is not bad, but it has a weird flavor. What do you think the stock is made with?

P- I hate to tell you this, but I think it has some kind of blood in it.

G- You think the funny flavor is blood?

P- Yes.

G- How about fish sauce or some other kind of strange tasting sauce we're not use to.

P- Think whatever you want, but I think it's blood. The books I've been reading about Cambodia and Vietnam talk about a soup that is made with blood.

G- Please stop telling me this.

Just then the husband coughed and spat on the sidewalk next to our table.



Paying Mr. Hock-a-Loogie



G- Ok! That does it. I'm done.

P- If the blood wasn't bad enough, Mr. Hock-a-Loogie just killed it for me too. That is disgusting!






It may not have been the best soup in the world, but it satisfied us for the night and we headed back to the hotel. We had only been in Vietnam for ½ a day and already we were seeing new and unusual things.



the snowball man