Laos & Cambodia – December 2022
Crossing a land border in Southeast Asia rarely means simply getting from one country to the next. As I’ve learned on previous journeys, the process often involves a collection of tickets, unofficial fees and vehicles that may or may not take you where you want to go. My journey from serene Don Det in southern Laos to Kratie in Cambodia is no exception. Buying the ticket is straightforward enough. Don Det’s downtown is small, and there aren’t many shops selling tickets for the overland crossing. The lady behind the counter hands me a small piece of paper with “1 person” and “DD to Kratie” written on it, then tells me to be at the pier the following morning. That’s all the information I need for now. The next morning, I join the other travellers waiting by the water. Before we can board the longtail boats, someone has to decide who goes where. We’re divided according to the colours of our tickets and called up in groups. Eventually, I’m allowed onto a boat, where I spot a few familiar faces among the other travellers.
Once we reach the mainland, however, we’re separated again. Everyone is directed towards one of the small shops lining the single main road. The ticket colours seem to determine which shop we’re supposed to visit, although I never quite figure out the system. Whatever the logic behind it, the idea appears to be to get us all onto the right transport for the border. I end up walking with Javier, a Spaniard who’s also heading to Kratie, and Eric, a young Korean traveller on his way into Cambodia. Eric has a problem, though. He’s lost the little paper he received for the boat crossing, which we’re apparently supposed to exchange for the next ticket. While Javier and I try to work out what happens next, Eric runs between the different shops in search of someone willing to help him. Somehow, all three of us make it onto vans, although not the same ones. Before long, we’re on our way to the border.
The first queue forms on the Laotian side. Here, the officers demand a fee of one US dollar for the exit stamp. It’s an unofficial charge, and the explanation they offer when questioned is almost comically straightforward: it’s the weekend. Eric doesn’t seem particularly bothered by paying, but several German and French travellers in our group refuse. They argue that the fee is illegal and demand to know why they should have to pay it. The officers remain calm, repeating their weekend explanation as if it settles the matter. I’m not particularly keen on handing over money for something that shouldn’t cost extra either, but I’m also not convinced that arguing will get me anywhere. I pay the dollar and walk off with Eric, who has an additional five-dollar fine to settle for losing the paper he received when entering Laos. Behind us, the Germans and French continue their unsuccessful negotiations.
Once through the exit checkpoint, we have about a kilometre to walk in the sun before reaching the Cambodian border. At least the walk gives us something to laugh about. Eric and I exchange travel stories, and the absurdity of the whole process makes for better conversation than standing in another queue would. The Cambodian side has a few more surprises in store. First, there’s the matter of the vaccination certificates. We’re told we need to pay for them, despite not actually needing them to enter the country. I refuse, as do others, and we manage to avoid paying for something unnecessary. Then comes the visa fee, which has apparently increased since the price advertised on the website. A short argument follows, but once again, there’s little room for negotiation. Eventually, I make it through the building and emerge on the Cambodian road. The instructions from the lady in Don Det now come back to me: exit the building and look for the people waiting outside. Beyond that, I have no idea what to expect.
We gather with the other travellers and wait until everyone seems to have arrived. There’s an opportunity to exchange our remaining Lao kip for Cambodian riel, and then, without much explanation, an uncle-like figure calls several of us over and tells us to get into a small car. A German couple, a French girl, Javier and I squeeze in. I manage a quick goodbye to Eric, who’s been assigned to another vehicle. We set off, and for a moment, I assume the complicated part of the journey is finally behind us. Not quite. After a while, we stop in the middle of nowhere for reasons nobody seems to know. Everyone gets out of their vehicles and waits. Eventually, the various groups are reorganised and sent off again in different cars. By sheer coincidence, I end up back in the same vehicle as Javier. At this point, I take it as a sign that we’re finally heading towards Kratie.
The journey that follows is a preview of many of my subsequent travels through Cambodia. The cars are cramped, and the backseat is shared between tourists and local families who get in and out at seemingly random points along the road. Every time someone climbs aboard, the available space shrinks a little further. Somehow, we keep going. By the time we finally arrive in Kratie, it’s late afternoon. More than eight hours have passed since I set off from Don Det, and crossing the border has involved considerably more paperwork, walking and vehicle changes than I expected. Still, I’ve made it to Cambodia. My first priorities are practical ones: finding a local SIM card and getting my bearings. Afterwards, I take a stroll along the Mekong River, hoping to catch a glimpse of the freshwater dolphins that Kratie is known for. Their future in the region is precarious, and I suspect my chances of seeing them are slim. Fortunately, I’ve already had the chance to spot river dolphins in the Amazon, so I don’t feel too disappointed when none appear.
As evening approaches, I head to one of the makeshift eateries set up around a lively square. Tiny red plastic tables and chairs spill into the open space, and I settle down for dinner. At some point, an older Cambodian gentleman approaches me. Rather than simply making conversation, he wants to warn me about scams and the abduction of foreigners in southern Cambodia. His warnings are unsettling enough to remember, so I pass them on to Javier and the French traveller staying in our room. We’re sharing the cheapest guesthouse we can find in town, and after comparing notes, we decide not to let the conversation spoil the evening. We shrug off the warnings and end up going out for beers with some of the students who live in the same building. It turns out to be a pleasant way to finish an exhausting day. After all the queues, questionable fees and unexplained changes of transport, a few beers with new acquaintances feel like a fitting reward. The night is short, though.
The following day, I’m back on the road, heading to Phnom Penh to meet a Swiss friend. My stay in Kratie is brief, but the journey there has already given me a memorable introduction to Cambodia. If it weren’t for Aline waiting in the capital I’d probably be returning to the serene Laos in no time. Luckily, the next week is filled with re-encounters with friends that I’ve met in different parts of Asia, so my memories of Cambodia aren’t all that bad. Aline and I even end up sharing a Tuktuk with Eric to explore the temples of Angkor Wat and this leads to multiple reunions in Seoul years later.