86. Cambodia
Larson only found female hookers, quite old and tired ones, in Aranya. He gave up and went back to the hotel to sleep.
The next morning Larson was up early. The hotel reception said the border would open at 7am. Five minutes before 7 Larson was in a crowd of hundreds of Thais waiting at the borderline. Larson was the only white face in a gathering of people that carried or pulled all sorts of things they were selling or transporting to Cambodia. Cambodia, it seemed, had little to export apart from Casino services. The consumer goods went in one direction, from the Thai side to the Cambodian side.
- Visa Cambodia, said a young Thai man. He approached Larson as if he expected to represent Larson in whatever dealings it took to get a visa.
- No thanks, said Larson.
- I hel you, said the man.
- I don’t need any help, said Larson.
- Visa Cambodia, said the man again.
- No, said Larson and turned his back at the man.
The border opened and the mass of people moved towards the gate and a narrow bridge. The dried out river under the bridge, hardly more than a stream, was the actual border between the countries. Each country had immigration and customs on their respective side of the bridge, leaving about 100 yards of no-mans-land between them.
Larson’s tout would not let go. He walked two steps behind Larson, saying “visa Cambodia”, “where you from?” “I hel you”.
I must ignore him, thought Larson. If I say anything he will take it as encouragement. I will pretend he is invisible. I don’t need his services anyway. What can he do? It is a matter of filling out a form and handing over my passport and the fee. I can probably do it better than this leech can.
Some children came running towards Larson. One of them was a girl around 10. She had an umbrella she put over Larson’s head to shield him against the sun.
- No no, said Larson. I don’t need that.
Another smaller girl came and gave Larson sad eyes.
- One baht, the small girl said. One baht. One baht. She spoke softly and almost sang the words. One baht. One baht.
Even more children came and surrounded Larson. This is how I imagined begging to be in Africa, thought Larson. He shook his head and walked towards the Thai immigration building. The tout was still behind him.
- Visa Cambodia, the tout said again.
What does it take to be left alone in this place? thought Larson. He turned to the man and said politely: - No, I don’t need you.
Followed by the tout and half a dozen children Larson arrived at the Immigration building. None of his unwanted entourage dared enter the office. At the door were men with sticks, which they used to threaten any kid that came too close.
That’s a relief, thought Larson. He had his passport stamped for leaving Thailand. As he was inside the building he could see the tout waiting outside, smiling at him. What an annoying sort, thought Larson. He also saw some of the kids outside. While waiting for Larson to come out the kids tried their begging luck with others, foreigners and well-off Asians who were going back to Thailand from the casinos.
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