It's not too late to be where you might have been - Don Khone, Lao Peoples Dem Rep
Don Khone, Lao Peoples Dem Rep
I'm someone who doesn't like certain changes even when they are meant to make things better. Well, of course it always depends on how you define 'better'. The Lao immigration building was a lovely shack that looked as if it couldn't be less basic. A proper jungle office, you wouldn't believe they actually had all the gear inside for processing visas and printing visa stickers. It was like travelling back in time! The Cambodian shack on the other side of the border was basically the same, but sometimes the first impression that I get when a country welcomes me has a stronger impact than my final moments when leaving a country. But even in Laos and Cambodia some things are not supposed to last forever and we could see some geezers working on a modern and bigger immigration building at either side of the border. I felt a bit melancholic knowing the oldschool shacks will be closed soon.
There was big bus waiting right at the border as we weren't the only ones to enter Laos that early. About a dozen travellers were already sitting inside, probably coming from other guesthouses in Stung Treng or more southern places such as Kratie. The bus was going to Pakse and maybe even all the way up to Vientiane, but we would be dropped off at Ban Nakasang which was more or less on the same route. The ride took only ten minutes and we passed through little Veun Kham just as I would have by pushbike. At Ban Nakasang we bumped into some more backpackers who just had arrived from Pakse and together we walked down to the boat landing. I think I'll leave you with the image of me waiting to jump on one of the boats and say a few words about the Four Thousand Islands first.
It's an river archipelago of, well, four thousand islands that stretches out over forty kilometres in the southernmost part of Laos. Of course there might be less or even more than exactly four thousand islands, but I think the locals gave this place a beautiful name. In Lao this region is called Si Phan Don which explains the English translation as 'Si Phan' means 'four thousand' and 'Don' is the Lao meaning for 'island'. The number of islands varies with the season and obviously increases when the Mekong is running low during the dry season. Some of the 'islands' are only inches small while the biggest island called Don Khong is about 16 kilometres long and home to nearly fifty thousand people. The favourite places for backpackers are the two islands of Don Det and Don Khone near the Cambodian border and despite being a popular destination for a long time now, they still are considered to be off the beaten track.
I was the first one to jump on one of the two boats that would ferry us over to Don Det, we were about twenty backpackers in total and ten of us were sitting in each boat. Now it was only five minutes between me and the place where I might have been on my previous trip to Laos, if only I wouldn't have been running of money back then. Our boat arrived at the northern tip of Don Det where a cluster of shops and restaurants is overlooking a small strip of sand which is just enough to call it a beach. As I jumped off the boat I had an epic smile on my face, believe me. Still I had no idea what the Four Thousand Islands would be like. The notorious river bars of Vang Vieng had been shut down only three months earlier and I was unsure whether the party crowd now was moving to Don Det instead, but apparently the national tourism authorities have been coordinating with locals to ensure that the Si Phan Don doesn't become 'Vang Vieng-ified'.
My first move was to go straight into the first shop to buy a pack of Honghua cigarettes, a trusty companion during my last time in Laos, but somehow I forgot to change money. The only way to stock up on Kip are the local shops as there are no ATMs on neither Don Det nor Don Khone. The rates were quite reasonable with 7.700 Kip to the Dollar which a bit less than on the mainland where it's 7.800 Kip to the Dollar. I didn't sweat it as I had around two hundred Dollars in small denominations with me and so I could change some whenever needed. Even if I would squander my money like George Best, there was an ATM in Ban Nakasang and some of the locals were offering a boat service to Ban Nakasang and back for 35k.
Enjoying my cigarette and watching the Mekong I waited for the second boat to arrive as I had agreed with Christian to wait for him so we could team up for finding a place to stay. I was quite surprised to meet someone like him. He was around my age and also on a three-week holiday just like me, though he was living in Singapore which is almost around the corner. We were prepared really good as all of our knowledge about the Four Thousand Islands was a mix of word-of-mouth and what we have read in various editions of the Lonely ******* Planet. Somehow we both had the idea to stay in the southern part of Don Det where it was supposed to be more quiet than in the north, so we shouldered our backpacks and set off. We decided to walk down the eastern side of the island which is known as the Sunrise Strip while the path at the western side is called Sunset Boulevard for obvious reasons. At both you'll find countless bungalows to choose from and it's only a question of whether you prefer watching the sunrise or the sunset while relaxing in your hammock.
As we were walking and talking we came across quite a few backpackers who nearly all were dressed in some colourful hippie-meets-raver fashion. They looked straight outta Koh Pha Ngan, but something was different about them. They all walked very slowly, moved very slowly and when we passed by they said 'Sabaidee' to us which is the the traditional Lao greeting. Surely the calmness of this place has an instant effect on everyone, but this was really strange and I felt as if we were entering some sort of community. Really a bit like in the movie 'The Beach' apart from Leonardo DiCaprio having a go at Virginie Ledoyen.
Don Det is about four kilometres long and we walked for nearly an hour until we eventually saw the old railway bridge that connects Don Det with Dhon Khone. Christian decided to stay on Don Det and got himself a nice bungalow underneath some trees, but I had something different in mind. I wanted a bungalow right above the Mekong as well as having a prime view on the bridge and I wouldn't settle for less! A slight problem was that there were only garden bungalows around so I had to try my luck on the opposite side of the river. We agreed to meet at the bridge around fivish and then it was time for me to cross the bridge to Don Khone. You might ask what the hell a railway bridge has to do on such small islands, but back in the day the French build a seven kilometre railtrack to bypass the waterfalls near Don Khone. Though the tracks have been removed long ago, the bridge which was build in 1917 has been a convenient link between the two islands ever since. Crossing the bridge as a foreigner means you have to pay 25k for a day ticket that gives you access to Don Khone while locals are charged 15k. The money goes straight to the nearby temple and the local school, that's fundraising Lao-style. The fee only applies until 6 pm.
I was a bit worried as there were only a handful of bungalows above the Mekong, but right at the first guesthouse a local approached me and asked if I wanted a bungalow. He showed me the place and it looked exactly like what I wanted. It was 50k a night and since I didn't have enough Kip to pay for three nights I asked if I could give him 20 Dollars which was equal to 150k Kip. He nodded and when I put out the money he looked a bit surprised. I told him I would have to change money first before I could pay him in Kip, but it was obvious he didn't understand me. I assumed his only knowledge of the English language were the phrases "Do you want a bungalow?" and "Fifty", but at least he started counting imaginary numbers with his fingers. I was relieved when he took the Dollars and bring me the book to sign in my name and the visa number.
So for the next three nights I would occupy one half of a double bungalow with a nice porch and two hammocks ready to lay my wasted body down. I even had the benefit of my own ensuite bathroom though it was pretty basic. This is what I had been waiting for all the time and I celebrated being here with nothing else than relaxing in my hammock and having a cold Beerlao at 3 pm. After an hour I got up and made a short stroll around. The village at the northern end of Don Khone is called Ban Hua Khone and was nothing more than some shops, restaurants and guesthouses lining the main street that runs parallel to the Mekong. Quite hungry I went to a place where they served a delicious local speciality: fish with coconut steamed in a banana leaf. Along with a Beerlao it was only 45k and I didn't hesitate to tell the lady who was working there that this was an absolutely amazing dish. Then I got some more Kip at the shop next door, I reckon it was about 500k, and after another few minutes in my hammock I crossed the bridge back to Don Det.
Right at the Don Det end of the bridge was the Santiphab guesthouse and apparently one of the oldest guesthouses around. There were three people sitting at a table outside and they didn't hesitate to invite me for a beer. Nice one! A few minutes later Christian arrived and together we had a lively conversation accompanied by more Beerlao. We all chipped in and bought these large Beerlao bottles to portion them into small glasses which gave us a real feeling of sharing. The three were all French, a young couple and a geezer in his forties who said he was coming to this guesthouse for more than ten years now and was like a son to the owners. For some reason he didn't want to tell us his name and said we could call him Sabaidee as everyone around does. We talked English all the time, something that's not always the case with French people, and Christian introduced me to the French as 'a legend when it comes to bus travel in Cambodia'. That wasn't quite wrong as I had mentioned to him earlier how I had spend about 30 hours on various buses during the last week and covering 1.500 kilometres. As well as having fun by ourselves we could watch some crazy Israeli geezers trying to jump off the bridge, but they chickened out as they realised the risk wasn't worth it. This lot is usually known to have almost no limits and it's easy to figure out why. They all have been through their military service which in Israel means you have to spend three years with the Hisbollah launching rockets at you and ****, this would screw everyone's head!
Around six it got darker by every minute and me and Christian got on the bridge to watch the sunset. Some might say that the Four Thousand Islands have some of the most stunning sunsets on earth and from this day on I can say that it's no understatement. Towards the west there are no big cities or any industries for at least 200 kilometres, so the sky is as clear as it could get and you can compare is to watch a sunset above the ocean only with the water being replaced by mountains and trees. We stayed a bit longer and had more Beerlao when we were joined by a German who was living on Don Det for a decade now and even running his own guesthouse. He was also born in East Germany and I was made up when he told me that the geezers who are running the import of Beerlao to Germany are also fellow Easteners. When I mentioned where I was staying he put me in the know that my landlord is a funny character who always likes a good drink. Maybe I would get back to that.
After a short return to my bungalow I walked over to Christian's place where we had another Beerlao, casually lying on some bamboo mats with Mekong floating below us. Since the evening had just begun we decided to have a look what was going on at the northern end of Don Det. Fortunately the shops here sold lighters with a small torch in it, something I had bought a few hours earlier, as we had to walk through absolute darkness for most of the four kilometres. Whenever there was a sound we stopped because we weren't sure about any dangerous animals, but the scariest moment was when we noticed something moving next to our feet and it turned out to be a lousy centipede instead of some venomous snake. It still gave us a bit of the old adrenaline rush. With about a dozen or so bars at Ban Hua Det, that's what the village at the northern end is called, you can say there is a bit of a nightlife. First we went to the biggest bar and I think it even was the famous 4000 Islands Bar where we enjoyed another Beerlao each, I'm talking about large 0.66 litre bottles all the time, but soon we left and went to another bar where we bumped into a few backpackers Christian knew.
To get away from all the Beerlao the two of us shared a bucket of 'Lao Lao' rice whiskey with cola, obviously watered down with some local energy drink. A Slovak girl ordered a space brownie which looked really nice as it was freshly made and still bubbling on top when they brought it to our table. Though the drug policy in Laos is very strict to say the least, drugs are quite easy to score for backpackers and especially Vang Vieng was infamous for serving happy shakes, happy pizzas, happy garlic bread and happy whatever. The term 'happy' means nothing else that it's spiked with marijuana, magic mushrooms or even opium which has been favourite with the locals in Laos for ages. But it's not only that the locals sometimes overdose their happy gear, turning it into a rather unhappy affair for the consumer, it is also said that the local police is working together with the places that sell such specialities. Many tourists who are caught red-handed while smoking a spliff or scoring mushies have to pay up to a few thousand Dollars on the spot to bribe the old bill not to turn them in. If they don't have the money they most likely will face a trial and a few years in jail as the Lao authorities take such issues very seriously. Never mind Prison Break, if you can't do the time then don't do the crime!
Don Det actually had quite a few places that offered happy shakes and the odd bag of weed, but there was no doubt that it was only tolerated by the locals and not encouraged. It seemed as if the locals were okay if the backpackers enjoyed themselves, but drugs shouldn't be the main reason to come here. Still a few times I was asked by some locals to buy a bag and I declined as I simply don't do it anymore. Now Laos isn't really famous for growing weed and I had a quick look at some of the gear a geezer next to me had bought. It probably would do the job though it didn't look even remotely like the gear in Europe or somewhere else. I actually haven't seen any police on the islands, but you still can be snitched by someone. Coughing up a grand for a bribe would screw everyone's travel budget. It's just not worth it!
At 11 pm the music was turned down and the bar was closed as part of something like a curfew. Christian and me bought two more Beerlao and went to the beach where a couple of twenty-year-olds with dreadlocks were sitting around a campfire. One of them was strumming the old acoustic guitar and it was really odd, so we didn't stay long. At this point I had so many Beerlao that I didn't even finish the bottle we just had bought and was more concerned with walking the four kilometres back through the darkness. It was a long walk, believe me, but halfway we sobered up a bit as we stopped only inches from a water buffalo that was sleeping in the middle of the road. When we parted ways at Christian's place we agreed to meet the next morning at half past nine to rent some pushbikes and explore the islands a bit. I missed our appointment narrowly, waking up half past eleven. I hadn't much of a hangover, but the scorching head had turned my bungalow into a small oven since the early morning and hence I wasn't in the best condition despite having slept for almost ten hours.
After a quick shower I got a pushbike from my landlord and I have to say that renting pushbikes at the Four Thousand islands is nothing but a proper communist pricing scheme. Everywhere you will pay the same which is 10k for a day! The next day I would bump into someone who told me that he had rented a pushbike for one day and when he brought it back three days later and wanted to pay an extra 20k, the geezer at the renting place refused to take the money and was okay with the 10k already paid. I grabbed some water, got a ticket to cross the bridge and made my way up Sunset Boulevard. The geezer at the bridge didn't have enough change and I only had a 50k note, but he wrote something on the ticket so I could pick up the change later that day. It actually worked out!
On my way I came across countless water buffaloes, rice paddies and of course the Mekong always was within eyeshot. The water buffaloes really were all over the islands and I reckon there must have been hundreds of them. They weren't aggressive at all and just enjoyed the sun shining on their backs. I wonder if some of the Buddhists were looking forward to be reborn as a lazy water buffalo in their next life. I would. Near the boat landing at the northern end I had a look at some of the shops to find out how to get back to Cambodia and there were plenty of bus connections to choose from, but I didn't bother to buy a ticket yet. When I went back to Don Khone I took another road that was leading right through the island and I was literally in the middle of Don Det when I recognised someone on a pushbike coming from the other direction. Guess what, it was Christian who just had been to the waterfalls at Don Khone. We had a brief chat and made another appointment to meet for a beer at the bridge for a sunset beer.
I also went straight to the waterfalls on Don Khone called Li Phi Falls. Li Phi means 'spirit trap' and the locals believe the falls are catching ghost and evil spirits from upriver. As dozens of backpackers have died in the Nam Song river at Vang Vieng, either breaking their skulls by jumping in shallow water or simply drowned under the influence, it's not hard to believe that the river carries heaps of evil spirits from up north. I bought two nice shirts from a souvenir stall near the waterfalls and even I didn't put them on I thought that size L would fit me well as it always did on my last trip to Laos when I was buying shirts. There's even a small beach at the feet of the waterfalls and it's by far better than the beach on Don Det. It was getting close to sunset and so I only dipped my feet into the Mekong, but I was up for a swim the next day. Of course I had some steamed fish in banana leaf on my way back and actually the first thing I did when I was at my bungalow was putting my new shirts on. It went pear-shaped. Since I didn't gain much weight during the last two years the Lao people must have been shrunken heavily. As I was putting the first shirt on it was like wearing a belly top! Now I have a tendency to didn't bother with my looks when I'm travelling, but this was a bit too bad. Maybe I could go back tomorrow and by new shirts, size triple ******* extra large.
At five I went to the Santiphab place to meet Christian who was already sitting there with the French we've met there the day before. Again we had only the best of conversations and when I learned that the young bloke who's name was Jocelyn shared the same favourite movie with me we couldn't resist dropping a few quotes from 'La Haine'. A bit later another group of French joined us and the first thing two of them said to me was that I looked like the retired French footballer Johan Micoud. Cheers! Christian said he would go to the Reggae Bar at northern Don Det a bit later and asked me to join him, but first there was plenty of time for me to relax in my hammock and watch the silhouette of the railway bridge in the dark. For dinner I went to the Nok Noi restaurant which was right next to the bridge and conveniently just a few yards from my bungalow. It was a really beautiful place serving delicious fruit shakes and a sensational Larb salad, the Lao national dish, with mint leafs and fish.
Somehow I couldn't get myself up for walking to the Reggae Bar and so I stayed at the Nok Noi to enjoy some more fruit shakes and a Beerlao. I felt it wouldn't be a good move to travel to Kratie the day after tomorrow as it was very hard to leave from here. The main reason I wanted to stop in Kratie was taking a boat to the island of Koh Trong which is a massive sandbar in the middle of the Mekong, but when it comes to islands in the Mekong I figured out it couldn't get better than being on Don Det and Don Khone. I decided to spend one more day on Don Det, skipping both Kratie and Kampong Cham in favour of taking a bus straight to PP. I didn't have a strict itinerary, but I wanted to spend my birthday on an island off Sihanoukville and when push comes to shove I wouldn't have enough time to see all the places I would like to see on the way to Sihanoukville. When I came back to my bungalow a young couple just had arrived to stay next door. She was a Kiwi and he was from Malaysia, they were very sound. While they went to a bar I put on some repellent, had a Beerlao or two in my hammock and watched dozens of mosquitos flying around the lamp above me.
The next morning I got a nice omelette at the Nok Noi before I rented a pushbike from my landlord to explore Don Khone. I started driving down the eastern side of the island and soon found myself next to rice paddies and wooden houses even more remote than on Don Det. I wondered whether made it a difference to the locals if they knew what was happening in the rest of the world or not. I wasn't even sure whether it mattered to them what was going on inside Laos either! Since Laos is a communist single-party state it seemed as they knew that it's not in their hands to change something major anyway and so they're just living their lives as they families did for ages. Laos is full of history starting centuries ago when it was known as Lane Xang or the kingdom of one million elephants. But what shaped the country the most happened only decades ago. In 1964 the Yanks started a nine-year bombing campaign and dropped 260 million (!) bombs on Laos which led to 700.000 casualties. 80 million bombs failed to explode and are still lying around today. The United States didn't even succeed as their target, the communist Pathet Lao forces, took power in 1975.
A bit downriver from the small but impressive Khone Pa Soi waterfalls I stopped at some nice looking backwater and though was was just too perfect to go for a swim I hesitated to jump in. Apparently there was a proper beach on the southern end of the island and I decided go there in hope there would be a food stall for lunch too. Unfortunately the gravel track I was on turned out to be a road to nowhere, so I drew the short straw and went all the way back to Ban Hua Khone to take another route through the middle of the island. Instead of finding the beach I ended up at the old French pier at the very southern end near of the island where the water wasn't really inviting. This area actually is one of the few places where you can spot the rare Irrawady dolphins and for 50k you can jump on a local boat to cruise around a bit, but I realised I had only 20k on me while the big wad was in my bungalow. What a ****-up!
Picking up the money and coming back was no real option as it was like five kilometres one-way and with no cash I couldn't even buy new shirts at the souvenir stall near the Li Phi falls either. From now on I would always check how much money I got on me before going somewhere! On the other hand this meant I would have to come back here somewhere in the future to get the shirts and have a dip in the water. But for now I invested my money in a can of Beerlao and looked over to Cambodia which was just on the other side of the Mekong. There was no border police at all and thinking back of the locals who offered Christian a discreet boat service it didn't seem to be risky.
The bad news continued when I got back to the bungalow. My neighbours had been replaced by a French couple who told me they had pre-booked the bungalow. I reckon this must have been done through a travel agent or something as I simply couldn't imagine they made a successful phone call to the landlord. Anyway, one of the first things the geezer did was taking my hammock off and trying to put it on their side of the porch. I couldn't believe my eyes and asked him kindly to put it back on my side. This horrible prick replied that they needed two hammocks because they were two people. I asked him again if he could put it back on my side. As he still didn't move I tried it once more and told him to put it back right now or I would cut his ******* hands off. Finally he did it, but as he already had untied the hammock he had ruined everything. I mean minutes earlier this was the best hammock in the ************* world. The space to the floor was absolutely perfect and lying in it felt like it was tailor-made for me. Even though I tried hard I simply couldn't get it back in the same place as it was only minutes ago.
I walked over to my landlord to ask him if he could sort me out with a boat to northern Don Det the next morning. I wanted to stay there for one last night before heading back to PP, but walking four kilometres with my backpack on wasn't the best way to spend a nice morning if you ask me. Once again he started counting with his fingers and he told me it would be "Fifty thousand". What was I saying about he might know only two phrases in English? I've read that the going rate for a one-hour boat ride was more like 30k and I asked him if he would be okay with that. When I told him that 50k was too much for my liking, actually it wasn't but I just wanted to see if I could haggle a bit, he pointed over to Don Det and smiled as he asked me "Walk, walk?". He knew he had me and so I would be picked up at 9 am the next morning right in front of the bungalow.
The steamed fish with coconut would put me in a better mood I thought, without a doubt the best feast on Don Khone, but just as I was heading to the place I saw Christian sitting in another restaurant. It's a small world and on the Four Thousand Islands it was even smaller! We both had a fruit shake and remarked jokingly that it was quite strange not drinking Beerlao together. I wished him all the best and then he left as he was bound for Vientiane or Luang Prabang later that day. After the fish there was still enough time for me to go and buy new shirts at the Li Phi falls, but seriously everything was so much slowed down here that even getting out of the hammock and going to the shop around the corner to buy a beer could be considered as an effort. Imagine that I should add that time isn't important when you're travelling in SEA and you just don't think much about it. Basically the only two occasions when time actually does matter are when your bus is leaving to your next destination and when it gets dark which is around 6 pm every day.
Pretty much the rest of the afternoon was spend in my hammock to watch the sun setting behind the railway bridge. I liked the bridge and every time I crossed it gave me a real feel of leaving one island and entering another, but even just standing or sitting on this massive thing was wicked too. I think I was because of the contrast to the nature around and the fact that it was build nearly hundred years ago . When I was coming back from the bender with Christian a few nights before I was crossing the bridge at 1 am in absolute darkness. Only the stars were above and the Mekong was floating below, simply wonderful. Needless to say that for dinner I went to this mad Nok Noi place. The people who were running it were already familiar with me as their regular customer and of course I was in for some Larb, fruit shakes and Beerlao. I even stayed until they closed at eleven.
The next morning it was time to say goodbye to Don Khone and jump on the boat to Don Det where I opted for a sunset bungalow. I was asked by a local if I wanted to stay in one of his bungalows, but they were not right on the riverbank and so I told him I would look for another place. He was okay with it and invited me to come to his restaurant a bit later and smoke a spliff with him. Nice touch, but I declined this offer too. Only yards away I paid 30k for a no-frills single bungalow with a shared bathroom. Shared indeed as it had some cockroaches and bugs hiding in the corner. Now I usually don't mind a bunch of insects, but when you're having a **** and you can't move and there's a cockroach only inches away staring at you, not knowing whether his mates are behind you or not, that's a bit nasty.
Since it was my last day in Laos I wanted to have a go at all the food that's favourite with backpackers. I already had banana pancakes for breakfast and at lunchtime I went for a pumpkin burger. Quite amazing! Unfortunately my new neighbours were a nuisance. I had a German couple in the bungalow right next to me and the geezer was trying to skype with his mum back home which didn't work out. For nearly half an hour he was going like 'I can't hear you mum, can you hear me?' or the other way round. He had quite a loud voice and eventually I got a bit mad and told him to shut up which he did.
Don Det has more activities to offer than Don Khone, simply because the latter is more upmarket and Don Det is targeted at budget travellers, but it was too late to go on a kayaking trip and though I was up for some tubing in the Mekong I gave it a miss because it's less fun when you're alone. When I scored a bus ticket to PP for 30 Dollars to leave the next morning I learned there were only two times to leave the islands on a scheduled trip. It was 8 am to go south and 11 am for all points north. I also got my laundry done and went absolutely crazy when I discovered that some of the shops had Tim ******* Tams! Well, three packs seemed a good dinner to me.
Out of all the bars on Don Det one certainly had a bit of an edge. I don't know what it was called, it wasn't the Reggae Bar, but they played Bob Marley all day long. Or maybe it was just the odd best-of compilation on heavy rotation. Though it still was western music which some locals probably weren't too happy about, I think that listening to old Bob was much better than playing David Guetta or the Black Eyed Peas. Actually I never went in that bar, but I walked by about ten times during the time I had spent here and somehow I know when I will hear classics such as Iron Lion Zion, Three Little Birds, Redemption Song or Buffalo Soldier, I will always think of these days on the Four Thousands Islands. Singing don't worry 'bout a thing, 'cause every little thing gonna be alright.
I reckon I did something that maybe only one out of a million backpackers in SEA does, the most unusual route you can imagine. Coming more or less all the way from PP to stay on the islands for just four days before going back straight to PP. What sounds mad, actually is. But it was worth it. The costs for the Lao visa and a new Cambodian visa? 64 Dollars combined. Bus ticket to Don Det? 12 Dollars. Bus ticket to PP? 30 Dollars. Finally have been to the Four Thousand Islands? Priceless. It was really nice to spend the final night on Don Det. Heaps of people who I had met in my life, some good friends and other inspirational people, had been here before and so it was important for me to stay here even it was just for one night. The only thing that wasn't good was that I bought a can of some Asian soft drink, I think it was grass jelly or winter melon flavour, to drink before I would go to sleep. It was proper rank and tasted like some old people's feet. I nearly chundered.
We left the island at 8 am the next morning. At Ban Nakasang we had to wait for one hour before the bus arrived and to kill the time I bought the cheapest football I could get and asked a few other backpackers to have a kick around in some backyard. It was Uruguay v Ecuador v Sweden v Germany and again I was amazed what skills those Latins have. Then a geezer appeared and collected our passports to sort out the Cambodian visas. He told us that the costs for visa was 20 Dollars each, but because this was a remote border crossing and the immigration staff didn't earn much money we would have to pay an extra 10 Dollars to them to process the visas. This was transparency! I mean I have absolutely no problem to pay a small bribe or 'stamping fee' and the border crossings in Vietnam, Laos and Cambodia are well known to ask your for a Dollar or two anyway. But I was really surprised this geezer explained to us why we had to pay an extra and what it was for.
I've read many, many travel blogs with people raving and ranting about how these dodgy fees are rip-offs or scams and that travellers always should refuse to pay them. Even worse, then you see people comment on these 'advices' and going like "Oh thank you for letting us know, now we won't pay this at the border" or "Good to hear, it's so sad they are taking money from people who come to their country". Come on, get a grip! That's the way it is, the way it was and the way it always will be. If people are travelling to countries where everything is cheap as **** and then they're complaining about paying a few Dollars at the border, what school of finance did they study? Luckily the lot I was heading to PP with was cool with it and everyone paid the 30 Dollars.
When the waiting was over we walked to our bus and as soon as the door opened I sneaked past the queue and was in first. We didn't have designated seat numbers and when it comes to picking the best seat I take no prisoners. Now I expected a nice ride, but our so-called 'VIP bus' was a far cry from anything that's VIP even in Southeast Asia. The bunk beds were really filthy, full with sand and some even had plastic tape to keep them together. My clothes would go to the laundry in PP the next day anyway so the filth wasn't much of an issue to me. In the middle of the aisle, where buses usually have a side door, it had a big white metal box welded to the frame and what looked like a fridge turned out to be a toilet. This bus would have put any vehicle in Xzibt's Pimp My Ride to shame. I placed myself in the lower berth in the back and there were only a dozen or so travellers on the bus.
At the border we waited for another hour to get our visas and while sitting in the sun we got talking to some other backpackers who were on a different bus to PP. Unlike us they all refused to pay the stamping fee and according to one of them they didn't mind to wait for hours until they would 'win'. Paying a few Dollars and getting straight back on the bus or waiting for hours and arriving in PP in the middle of the night, that's not a tough decision if you ask me. Eventually we were told to walk into Cambodia and found out that for part our bogus fee we would receive a health control. A skinny geezer from the Lao immigration staff hold some infrared device about one yard in front of us and took our temperature. I reckon mine was 36 degrees or so, all good. Right at the Cambodian immigration another geezer would do the same, but I told him he didn't need to because my last checkup was only thirty seconds ago. I wondered what would have happened if my temperature had increased between the two border posts. It was hilarious and the geezers didn't look as if they cared which temperature was shown on the display. At least they put on a bit of a show for the extra money we had paid to them.
Back on the VIP bus we now had some locals with us. An old Buddhist monk was sitting right next to me and I didn't know how to behave properly since I didn't want to embarrass neither me nor him. He must have been eighty years or maybe he was my age and just had a bit of a wild lifestyle in the past. We were on the road for a bit when he put on a cigarette and I thought what was good for an old monk would be good for me too.
I already mentioned that the Cambodian roads are in very good condition, but it seemed as it only applied to buses with working shock absorbers which our bus obviously wasn't equipped with. Despite the smooth roads it was rattling non-stop. We were shaking so much inside our seats that you couldn't even read a book. I felt like Muhammad Ali, but certainly not floating like a butterfly and stinging like a bee. I wanted to know what the other seats were like and so I climbed on one of the upper berths where it was a bit more comfortable though much tighter than on the lower berth. With no chances of reading a book it was time for mp3 player. Of course I had compiled a folder covering six decades of travel anthems from CCR, Oasis and many others. And what could be better than driving through Kratie, the sun blazing outside, the mighty Mekong to your right, and listening to 'Far, far away' by Slade in your headphones? This is what music has been made for! This tune actually put me to the thought that you're only away when there's a place you can call home.
What made the ride a bit of a pain in the **** was that you couldn't turn off the air conditioning no matter which seat you were in. It was on full power and so I took of some of the plastic tape from the ceiling to place it on the ventilation. This made me even more concerned about the state of our bus as by pulling off the tape one of the light panels was falling off. We were caught in a deathtrap! On the seat next to me was a German who had a bandage above his ankle which is quite a common sight in Asia. They call it 'Phuket Tattoo' and actually is a wound from burning your leg on the exhaust pipe of an motorbike. The joke was on him though.
Around 5 pm we stopped in Skuon aka Spiderville where most of the backpackers got off to catch an onward bus to Siem Reap. I mentioned to the German that I rather would spend the night in PP and take the first bus to Siem Reap the next morning. I explained to him that the bus would arrive in Siem Reap around 10 pm. Then he would have to get a Tuk-Tuk from the bus station, probably more expensive than during the daytime, and hope to find a guesthouse by eleven. He said that I was wrong and when buying the bus ticket on Don Det he got told that the bus would arrive in Siem Reap around eight or nine. Every guidebook and even the Lonely Planet is saying that you should avoid doing the run from Laos to Siem Reap in one setting because it always involves changing the bus multiple times only to end up at the bus station in Siem Reap close to midnight where you're left to the mercy of the Tuk-Tuk drivers. If you're reading this and ever thought about doing this trip, please don't and take a break somewhere in between.
Suddenly the bus driver was starting the engine and shouting at us to get our ***** back on board. Well, he spoke Khmer, but it was not hard to understand that he already had spent enough time behind the wheel and wanted to be in PP as early as possible. I didn't have the balls to ask him if he would hold on for a minute so I could get some fried spiders. The thought of him speeding off while I was standing at the food stall was rather uninviting. We did the final leg to PP in a bit more than one hour and I had really funny conversations with two other Germans.