84. Larson goes to Cambodia
Pelle Larson’s visa had expired. He asked Bjorn what to do. Was there an office somewhere where he could get a new stamp?
- There is no office you can go to, said Bjorn. Not in your case. You came on a tourist visa and now you have to leave the country.
- Is this really necessary? said Larson. I am just staying for a few months.
- You have to go out of Thailand, said Bjorn. You leave and then you come back. It is called the visa run. Every farang in Thailand knows what a visa run is.
Larson did not look enthusiastic.
- Think of it as a sport, said Bjorn. You get to see somewhere else and get out of Bangkok for a change.
- Where do I go? asked Larson.
- The closest and easiest border crossing is Poipet in Cambodia, said Bjorn. If you pop over the border you will get another 30 days to stay in Thailand automatically. You can go to Poipet by special visa run service bus but it is cheaper if you do it on your own.
Larson decided to do it on his own. The organised trip started at an ungodly early hour, if he went by himself he could chose the time. Larson went to Mor Chit station where he found a bus to Aranya. The bus took four hours and was a mere 164 baht. In Aranya, a small town with one main street and a few shops, tuk-tuk drivers met him. Larson hired one of them to take him to the border, which was 3 km away.
It was darkening when Larson arrived at the Cambodian border. Thai vendors were going in the direction of Thailand on motorbikes. Larson paid the tuk-tuk driver 60 baht and began walking through a market area.
- You you, said a Thai man who was packing up his market stall. - Bo-de clo. Can not go.
Closed? thought Larson. Borders don’t close. Borders are always there. Maybe he is saying this to scam me. Larson ignored the man and walked towards the building saying “Thai Immigration Exit”. It was closed, the road was blocked and a guard looked at Larson as if this was very funny.
- You come tomollow, said the guard, grinning.
Larson saw Cambodia on the other side of a gate that had motifs from Angkor Wat on the top. On the Cambodian side were brightly lit buildings, large and modern. For some reason the money seemed to be on the Cambodian side. The signs said “casino”, “hotel” and “resort”. This was where Bangkokians came to gamble.
Larson hesitated for a moment, as if he hoped the border people would change their mind and let him across. But they did not and Larson turned and walked back to the market area.
The tuk-tuk that had taken Larson to the border was still there. The driver sat in the back and smoked a cigarette.
- The border is closed, said Larson.
- Yes yes, said the driver. Bo-de clo.
- Why did you not say it was closed?
The driver smiled sheepishly and said nothing.
He knew the border was closed by now, thought Larson. But he still took me here. What a crook.
- All right, said Larson. I want to go back to town. I have to find a hotel.
- Have hotel no ploblem, said the driver. You want go Aranya? Can. 500 baht.
- Five hundred baht? said Larson. You must be joking!
- Five hundred, said the driver. Now dark. Walking dangerous. Dangerous too much.
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