This morning I took a fast taxi (a Lexus no less, “the Japanese Mercedes”) to the Cambodian border town of Poipet – two and a half hours away from Siem Reap. It used to be an eight hour trip until a new road was built a few years ago. I wished we had gone a bit slower, but we got there without any major incidents. There are pot holes on Highway 5 that could swallow a whole car.

Poipet has a reputation for being one of the worst touting and scamming places on Planet Earth, and I can now see why; but arriving from the  Cambodian side, I’m not high on the target list as there are no visa scams to bait me with (as of course I don’t need a visa to enter Thailand). The other way round and you are open to all sorts of stuff. If you are fan of the original Star Wars films, then Poipet is the real world version of “Mos Eisley” in Episode IV. I can’t remember his exact words, but even Alec Guinness tells Luke Skywalker that its a place filled with scum..

As I get out the car the games immediately begin and I am surrounded by people offering porterage and transportation – eyes down and focus on moving forward. The only problem with this otherwise effective approach is that after a while I realise that I have been so good at ignoring everyone, that I in fact I have managed to actually leave Cambodia without getting my passport stamped and visa de registered. A school boy error, so after comparing notes with a couple of Canadians in “no mans land”, I sheepishly retrace my steps and find a queue at the Cambodian exit for foreigners. I suppose technically I was re-entering and didn’t have a multiple entry visa to do this, but no one stopped me.
Between the two borders is a slightly bizarre strip of land with a casino and a few duty free places. I decided it might be a good place to have a comfort stop – a chance to see Thai men betting like there will be no tomorrow in a place that could have been anywhere in the World but Thailand, where I think gambling is against the law.

I push my bags up the road and over the bridge (actually in the traffic) for about 200m to the the Thai border. It is more organised here and there is a vague familiarity with forms and procedures, like you do on normal holidays. Out of respect for the King I have put on a proper pair of shoes today (my first non Crocs border in a while) and unsurprisingly there is not too much interest in me or my luggage, and after half an hour waiting, I’m in.

The final step is to get a tuk tuk for the 4km journey to the Thai railway station. Needless to say there are many touts interested in discussing my travel plans. Perhaps a mini van journey to Bangkok or Pattaya? Haven’t I heard that there is no train to Bangkok today?.. Back to my game plan – keep moving forward, and eventually I find a lady selling ice cream and get her intel on where to find a non touted van. Word goes down the street and a couple of minutes later the deal is done – 100 Baht (£2) for me and my luggage to Aranyaprathet.

If all goes to plan just a couple of hours to wait for the arrival of the “Cambodian Express”!

All in all, a reasonable day’s progress on the travel front though. Good to be feeling well and on the move again!

My first day “on the buses”. Like a new kid at school I didn’t want to be late for the bus, so got up early and made my way to the implausible looking HCMC “head office” of Mekong Express. Anyway, no dramas, and I hopped on the daily 08.30 bus from Saigon to Phnom Penh. Its a 6 or 7 hour journey according to the timetable – visas, water buffalo and river crossings permitting..

I have set my expectations quite carefully, as there are reports of some very old vehicles and on board Khmer karaoke party jaming sessions that involve the whole bus and go on for hours. However on this bus it’s mainly Western tourists today and things seem pretty relaxed. There is in fact no karaoke, but lots of fairly violent Asian movies on show on the big screen at the front of the bus. I deploy my Bose noise cancelling headphones and catch up on some episodes of “Breaking Bad”.

Nothing very unusual to report today, but for the record, in case you want to understand how this route works – after about three hours we debus at the Vietnamese frontier. There is a strange system with our bus guide, who takes all our passports ahead of us to immigration. Our names are called at the immigration gate and one by one we walk through. But when they are all handed back mine is still missing – but it quickly reappears from another bus driver..

Back on the bus and then back off the bus again at the Cambodian side of the border. This time I’m using an e-visa which might actually be slower to process than if I had no visa at all. Anyway, after some fingerprinting and stamping, it appears my papers are all in order again. (Note – if you are doing this, don’t forget to bring a spare copy of your e-visa as they take the first copy away from you, but you still need a second copy for exiting the country). They call me back to redo my fingerprints again,  but then change their mind. I’m in. No one checks our luggage (which is still on bus) on either side of the border.

The currency traders are everywhere inside the (government) building, and as I still have some Dong left, I move them all into the Cambodian Riel at a rate of about 18000. I think that’s 15% less than my secondary trading operation in Saigon..

Whilst waiting for the bus I end up chatting to a Hungarian chap called Mihil, who happens to live in Edinburgh. The small world paradox all over again..

No one mentioned to me in advance that there was a free mini cruise involved in today’s trip, yet at about 14.00 we drive the bus onto a ferry to cross a fair size river. The ferry was packed and we sat on the deck in the bus with our door closed. I think if it sank it would be like a bus version of “The Poseidon Adventure”, as there would be no way out unless you had one of those special hammers, or possibly knew Gene Hackman personally. The Americans behind me enquire about the use of life jackets.

The scenery in Cambodia is subtly different – the trees look different, the dogs look different, there are flash cars as well as trashy ones. Only a hundred kilometres away and it feels far away from Vietnam.

Back at the FCC, the sun lowers in the sky. Some of the cliches are maintained and others are broken by those sat at tables around me. A young Cambodian man, with a short pony tail and dressed in shorts and flip flops, drinks a crisp Sauvignon Blanc whilst smoking a Marlboro on one side of me, whilst on the other side an Australian woman drinks vodka and bores a couple of people with unimpressive tales of how important she thinks she is back in the real world. The journalists have of course now all gone from here, but the Club lives on as a good place to share a drink at the end of the day. Last time I was here though there were people reporting live on heavy fighting with the KR in the North and sharing survival stories from “the temples of doom”.

I’m driven about tonight by nice guy called “Kia” – a Khymer Bob Hoskins type, who drinks tea outside whilst you go about your business – you can immediately detect a warmer and more protecting side to Cambodian men than you see in Vietnam, where women seem to do all the hard stuff.

No time to linger here – I’m off tomorrow “up country” – back on the buses!