Browsing tag: asia

There’s no shortage of information out there about avoiding visa scams when crossing the border into Cambodia from Thailand.

Head straight to the border, make a beeline to Thai Customs, do not be swayed by anyone who approaches you about getting a visa.

But what if your unscrupulous tuktuk driver drops you off at a visa scam office and leaves you to their clutches?

It all started as we stepped off the train in Aranyaprathet. I could see tuktuks waiting just outside the station, but a driver in an orange vest with a slightly downturned face and quiet voice approached us while we were still on the platform and asked where we wanted to go. Too easy.

Mistake one: trusting the driver in the orange vest (T thinks those in orange were not very legit). Also: feeling sorry for him and deciding not to bargain down from 100 baht, the going rate.

Eventually, a road sign bearing the word ‘border’ came into sight, and we turned left into that road, then hastily pulled into a parking lot behind a nondescript building with a ‘Welcome to Cambodia’ sign. Dodgy. Along with a few other people who’d arrived at the same time, we were ushered inside by a storm of men who’d descended upon us as we alighted. Two Asian girls ducked away down the front towards the road, and my instinct was to follow them – but I let us be swept along. Mistake number two.

Inside, a ton of Western tourists were busy filling out forms. The same forms were placed in front of us – plain A4s printed with black ink, not looking particularly governmental. I tried pulling the “Mee visa lao!” schtick on the man who’d attached himself to us like a leech, but I don’t think I was particularly convincing. After a bit of muttering back and forth with T, I asked the man how much visas were.

“1000 baht,” he replied. “No! US$20,” I said, outraged. And at that, we got up to leave.

“You go check, see police, then come back” said the man. That worried me a bit. These guys were obviously shady; what would a visit to their ‘police’ entail? Nonetheless, my aversion to being ripped off won out.

Once out on the hot, dusty road, T and I were both at a loss. We’re both beginner travellers, from New Zealand no less – we’re not used to land border crossings, what they look like, or how they operate. I knew we weren’t in the right place; I just didn’t know where we were supposed to be or how to get there.

At that very moment, a man in a blue uniform came up from behind and told us to walk to the end of the road until we saw Thai customs. Someone offering genuine help! I could have kissed him.

Sure enough, we headed down towards the end of the road, and before long we saw massive signs for ‘Departures’ to the left. There were a ton of Thais in the Thai exit line, but not many foreigners. Wild guess: most fell prey to visa scams. I did see one tuktuk carrying a Westerner down to the real border office – he was, however, disabled, so presumably the driver took pity on him.

Lesson one: do not be afraid to get up and leave. Simply walk out.

Lesson two: if you are unceremoniously dumped at a fake visa office, but you know you’re on the border road (i.e. you’ve seen the sign), then walk to the end. That’s it.

From then on, simply fill out your departure card, proceed through Thai Customs, exit over the Friendship Bridge, through the Cambodian arch, and head right into the Cambodian office to get your visa on arrival.

And try not to let it mar your experience – the whole thing soured T on Cambodia, despite the fact this all took place on the Thailand side.

A photo essay from a day out

We happened across this old fort and building while hunting for Phra Athit pier.

Then found a new perspective out on the water.

We didn’t make it across to the Temple of Dawn (which I kept calling Temple of Doom)…

We did, however, head inside the grounds of Wat Pho, temple to end all temples.

Highlight? The giant reclining Buddha, complete with mother-of-pearl feet.

It was a real honour to witness Buddhist visitors pay their respects at the temple. I can only imagine how meaningful that must be.

Modified CC image, original by Flickr user Jose Goulao

When we first stepped into our little room at Bangkok’s Rainbow Hostel, one thing jumped out at me.

“That ceiling fan is really low,” I said. “Watch out for it.”

[OMINOUS FORESHADOWING]

The next morning, we headed out in search of breakfast (verdict: disappointing. T keeps seeking out western-style breakfasts, and it’s usually a letdown). Upon returning home – as I always refer to wherever it is we’re staying – a minor panic set in. I didn’t have the keys, and neither did he.

“Did you leave them in the room?” I suggested.

Lo and behold, there they were, still hanging from one of the hooks on the wall. Our room’s window opened out onto the smoker’s balcony, so T headed out there and clambered in through, landing on the bed, then sliding off onto the floor. I followed suit.

In the midst of setting down my things, I heard a strange thud. Behind me, T was back on the bed, clutching his left hand. More worryingly, blood – dark blood – was leaking from it.

Next thing I knew, he was in the bathroom, asking for something to stem the bleeding. I’d actually dumped a couple of old tank tops a few days earlier, figuring I had way more than I needed, but I grabbed an old T-shirt I still had in my backpack and handed it to him. (Sentimental value: low – it was a company shirt that I ran the Round the Bays race in last year. Practical value: high, at this point – it might have come in handy at some point later, being a very thin, lightweight top, albeit one far too big for me.)

“I think we’re going to be making a trip to a Bangkok hospital,” came his voice.

From then on, it was a matter of operating on grim autopilot.  Scrambling to grab our travel insurance papers. Heading out into the hall, then ducking back into the room to grab our passports as well. Explaining to the hostel staff what had happened, and letting them guide us to a taxi across the road.

The taxi driver took the liberty of assigning himself a small tip, shortchanging us by about 9 baht. I didn’t even care. It was straight into the ER for us, where T was promptly whisked away, leaving me to try to explain the situation to the front desk staff and fill out some paperwork.

At this point, I figured it was time to call our insurance company.

Problem: T had the cellphone with him, and he was no longer there. I did battle with the payphone in the corner, which refused to connect me to the local Thai number listed on my card. Time to track him down?

Problem: I had no idea where he was. I asked if I could be taken to him, which resulted in me ping-ponging around the hospital, shunted from staffer to staffer, for about 10 minutes. That doesn’t sound like very long, but trust me, it was an eternity in a foreign hospital where not everyone spoke English. Eventually I wound up sitting outside the ER consultation room itself, with assurance that he was inside right then and would be out shortly. In the meantime, I spotted a bank of payphones in the hall, and steeled myself for another round of battle.

Problem: These friggin’ payphones didn’t seem to work, either. A staffer (let’s call her Guardian Angel, or GA for short) took pity on me and came up to help. My heart leapt as she dialled, spoke to someone on the other end in Thai, then handed me the receiver. The call went through, all right – just not to my insurance company. I have no idea who was on the other end, but it was NOT somebody who could help me.

GA sat me down at her desk, by her landline, and made a few calls. There was some talk of a service charge and fees per minute, to which I sort of stared and nodded blankly. What choice was there? I slid my magic card with all the phone numbers on it over – numbers for a bunch of countries, including Thailand, and a number to call collect, which looked like it directed to headquarters in Australia.

Amazingly, a few minutes later GA handed me the receiver once again. This time, a broad Aussie voice reverberated down the line. I could have cried with relief.

Oh, wait. That’s right, I did.

Feeling thoroughly sorry for myself, hideously frustrated at T (what the hell was he doing back on the bed, and standing up, at that? Why did he put his hand up? Questions without answers – it all happened in a flash – though in hindsight it seems he was probably closing the window back up) and stressed about the financial side of things, I dissolved. In between hiccuping half-sobs/half-gasps, I managed to open up a claim, answer all their questions as best as I could, and got a dose of reassurance from the no-nonsense staff at the other end of the phone. No, no bone was visible. Everything was still attached (losing a finger or two doesn’t even bear thinking about…). Yes, I think he was up to date with his tetanus shots.

Let’s skip ahead a little, shall we? End result: he got a bunch of stitches, right between the middle and ring fingers. I paid the 7000 baht on my backup Visa (about $280 – our insurance excess is $250 anyway, so it didn’t make sense to wait around for the claim to be sorted out between the Thai hospital and Aussie insurance). We extended our time in Bangkok by two days so T could go back to have his dressing changed by the doctor, though at the last minute he decided he’d rather buy materials from a pharmacy and do it himself. I’m not sure if that saved us any money. If there would have been a doctor’s fee for that, then yes, I think it would. It was definitely more convenient, though.

So while I’d advise against getting yourself hospitalised while on holiday as a blanket rule, if you must, Bangkok is probably not a bad place to do it. We were really impressed by the facilities at the Adventist (Mission) Hospital, and almost everyone spoke reasonable English, thankfully.

Takeaways:

• Grab all important documentation – passports, travel insurance information, and anything else relevant (more is always better than less). I brought my entire travel document pouch – having everything in one place makes it easy.

• Call your insurance company ASAP. It probably has a local phone number, or a way to call collect.

• Make sure you have cash for a taxi to get to and from the hospital – and maybe change for a pay phone.

• And be sure to bring your credit cards. Expect to have to wait up to a few hours for the hospital to deal with your insurance, or else you can pay upfront and be reimbursed by insurance later.

And if you’re tall, watch out for those ceiling fans. Everyone who’s noticed T’s hand since has asked him if he was in a fight or a boxing match. Alas, the story is much less impressive.

After about 16 hours in various minivans and an overnight bus, we landed in the madness that is Bangkok.

(FYI, the difference between buses and trains is stark. Trains are definitely the way to go. Our overnight sleeper from Malaysia to Thailand was pretty sweet – waking up to the sight of vast fields and slightly swampy land was really quite something. Though if you can, book a lower berth rather than an upper berth; they’re slightly roomier and more convenient.)

We’d been told our bus terminated on Khao San Rd, the backpacking mecca. Easy, I thought. All we had to do was walk to the end of the street, where our hostel/guesthouse was. Ha!

Instead, they rushed us off the bus on a wide, busy road, where taxis were waiting like vultures. It was a bit of a rude awakening.

First the aisle lights blared on, which I took as a warning sign, and roused myself (plenty of the others went back to sleep). Then the bus came to a halt.

“Last stop! Bangkok! Last stop! Bangkok!”

Cue a a flurry of passengers hastening to pull on socks, rub the sleep out of their eyes, and generally get their shit together while the driver yelled at us to hurry up from outside.

FWIW, after getting acquainted with the area, I’m pretty sure the bus actually stopped more or less around the corner from Khao San Rd, and the taxis made a killing driving us disoriented passengers around the block.

100 baht later, we made it to the hostel, ditched our main backpacks, and took refuge in McDonald’s. That didn’t last long. It was hotter in there than it was out on the street, the power point didn’t work, and the internet was slow and only good for an hour’s worth. Luckily, Rainbow is super comfortable downstairs, with a ton of chairs, tables, power points and fast wifi. (There’s also a 24/7 tourist centre right next to it.) Around 9 or 10 they allowed us to check in, and you can bet my first order was to take a warm shower and try to make myself feel human again. A full day of travel, (very little) sleep in your clothes, and a case of sunburn will do that to ya.

I was curious to see what the streets would be like by night. Around the corner on Khao San Rd, pubs and bars were spilling out onto the road, bulging with tourists swigging from massive beer jugs. My favourite sign was definitely this one:

That said, there were plenty of others that made us laugh out loud:

Approximately a dozen different stalls were selling identical pad thai offerings, with a few kebab and fruit/juice stalls sprinkled throughout. Tickling the other senses: the sweet smell of shisha and an awesome duo on guitar and drums at a street bar about halfway down the street covering Nirvana, the Chilis, Maroon 5, Bon Jovi, and even a spot of Van Morrison, I think.

Back across the road from our room, Indian karaoke was blasting, and did so every night while we were there. Outside, this dog guarded our hostel – he was well trained to bark at and chase away beggars/touts.

The real Bangkok? Probably not. We’ll be back next month to fly out to London, and hopefully we’ll stay in another area when we return. We ended up extending this stop by two days – reason to be revealed in my next post – but they weren’t hugely productive.

If you ever find yourself on Koh Lanta, you’ll see and hear plenty about a ‘four islands’ tour. You should probably book yourself a spot on one. Trust me.

We set out on a sunny Saturday, packed onto a longtail boat with a quiet French couple and two families – one with three young boys, one with two. While we didn’t quite follow the order set out in the brochure, here’s what I think happened:

• A spot of snorkelling at Koh Ma
• A swim at Koh Mook
• More snorkelling at Koh Chuak
• Lunch and a dip at Koh Ngai

Except for Koh Ngai, which is a large, resorty, sandy type spot, these little islands consist of towering rock formations sprinkled with lashings of tropical greenery. After checking out the marine life – blue fish, striped fish, earthy fish, luminous, almost glowing fish – I was content to just lie back and float, staring up at the formidable rock faces.

The absolute highlight? Island number two.

As we approached, we noticed that the other boats moored there were devoid of people, which was sort of creepy. What next?

Our guides spoke a little English, but on the whole, our communication was halting. We did manage to gather that we should don lifejackets and flippers, and that we’d be swimming through a little cave in the rocks. Awesome. Two of my worst fears combined: small dark spaces and deep water. It took me a few moments of sitting on the edge of the boat breathing deeply to take the plunge.

There really are no words to describe paddling through the ‘emerald cave‘. As soon as you enter, you’ll notice it. The water glistens green, almost glowing, in an other-worldly manner. Make your way through, marvelling at the sights, to a thunderous soundtrack of crashing waves and gasps from your fellow swimmers. Swim backwards for a little bit for a different perspective, then flip over before it narrows to just two or three abreast and turns pitch black. Try to follow the pinpoint of light from your guide’s torch. Do this without bumping into the long line of Asian tourists to the left, who seem to be making a collective noise that could either signal excitement or an attempt to spook us all with ghostly cries – all moored to a single rope, making their way out of the blackness as you plunge further in.

Eventually the pitch dark eases, and the cave opens out onto a tiny, pristine beach. It’s a picture-perfect scene that could have come straight out of The Beach. It’s fully enclosed with rocky cliffs encircling the majority of the inlet, reaching up almost as far as the eye can see, and inland, forest lurking beyond the shore. According to a sign on the beach, pirates used to hide treasures in the cave. Today, the area is part of a national park, being preserved for future generations.

My one piece of advice would be to bring a waterproof camera, or a camera in a waterproof bag – because you’ll want to take pictures, and lots of them. Or if you have a GoPro, this would be a prime time to make use of it. Not that I think anything could truly capture the essence of this untouched spot – but no harm trying.

What’s one thing you’ve done lately that’s scared you?