Koh Chang: Life's a beach
Trip Start
Aug 10, 2007
1
63
76
Trip End
Ongoing
Koh chang,
Thailand
Sunday, April 27, 2008
Another day, and another tough journey across the Thai-Cambodian border. Even though the Thai border officials aren't of the same corrupt kind as their Cambodian kin - well, they don't need to extract any visa payment as us Europeans (well Brits and Dutchies anyhow) are exempt from needing a visa on entering Thailand - but on arrival the overzealous border official scanning my passport did a lot of hoing and humming and rough leafing through my passport. Now the manhandling of my passport is a big no-no anyhow (I remember my heartfelt anguish when the Indian visa service in Holland just stapled a form to the front of my passport and left me hyperventilating, that was a virgin passport!), but when this Thai guy started making notes, vigorously leafing through my passport counting the number of times that I'd come and gone into Thailand and counting the number of days, I realised there's probably something about the Thai visa requirements that I'd missed. And indeed there is. According to the Lonely Planet of Thailand, you're allowed to re-enter Thailand for two times, staying a total of 90 days (which seems odd, as you're only allowed to stay for a maximum of 30 days anyhow). For the people who've been counting the loops I've made through Thailand recently, this was actually my THIRD re-enter, but maybe the guy took pity on me for only having been in Thailand for two days between going through Myanmar and Laos.
Cambodian travel agents: add optional expletive here.
Once on the other side of the border, we were shipped into a (thankfully) airconditioned minivan (which didn't look like the VIP-bus which had been promised vigorously by the guy at Lucky Travel in Siem Reap). By now, it was 15:00 and we'd been on the road for 8 hours, exactly the amount of time that the guy at Lucky Travel in Siem Reap had assured us, the complete trip from Siem Reap to Koh Chang would take (and to complete the naming and shaming, the bus company is "Angkor Magic Trave & Tour" (grrrr..)). Another 4 and a half hours to get to the ferry port, half an hour wait for the ferry to leave, half an hour ferry trip. I've mentioned it last time, but take any promise from a Cambodian travel agent at far from face value. Add at least 5 hours to any time prognosed to get there, no matter how friendly the travel agent looks (and how pregnant his friendly wife is). Issuing vague threats about removing the guys nose next time you're in Cambodia, if the trip takes longer than the promised time, doesn't impress at all. I've said it once, and I'll say it again: I've had it with Cambodia.
Getting there, getting there, done!
Then you arrive with two other foreigners (a British girl and a Canadian bloke) on the last ferry arriving on Koh Chang to be welcomed into the arms of the last săwngthăew (this is a small pickup with two rows of benches running along the side which hold about 12 Thai, or about 8 very grumpy backpackers including packs) driver, willing to take us to the closest possible port of accommodation at the mildly extortionate rate of 4 times the usual cost (hey, it's your own fault, you shouldn't arrive on the last ferry, should you?). Anyway, trying to haggle this down in my usual brusque manner (which does rely heavily on the fact that there is an alternative to take if it doesn't work, which in this case, there wasn't) didn't get us anywhere, in fact it got the săwngthăew driver to leave in a huff, and us at the mercy of a pickup driver we found just down the road (where we only paid twice the going rate). Dropped Nanda off in a restaurant with a drink, as she hadn't started the day on a healthy note anyhow, and by now was almost falling asleep, and by the time it was 21:30, we were able to call a nice big room at Pump's House our own for the coming three nights.
Well-done Barnes (not rare or medium)
Why I don't ever learn from former mistakes is anybody's guess. Any beachbumming now involves me slapping a layer of sun cream factor 30 on to the unchartered portions of my bod-day. My last calamitous experience of prolonged contact with the sun's harmful rays was back in Sri Lanka, when I turned a bright colour red after sitting aside a pool for three quarters of an hour "sans protection". This event caused me to inherit Ronella's bottlet of after-sun lotion. Unfortunately, it now came in handy again, as after two hours of sunbathing under a layer of aforementioned SPF 30 (whose manufacturer I will now sue), I again managed to achieve the same kind of skin tone as a tomato (which, Nanda, as you will find under the following link is indeed a fruit!). No photos of this slight mishap though this time. Beach equals sand equals horror for camera, so the camera stayed in the hotel room (although I have sinned against this rule in the past, but hey, if you see those pics, how can you blame me?)
Right, I've worked up quite a thirst. I think it's time to combat the sunburn from the inside by applying a thin layer of alcohol on the inside of the skin, in the form of a Singha Beer.
Cheers!
