88. Larson’s u-turn
Larson had not been to a real 3rd world country before, but the Cambodian side of the border did not disappoint. The road was dusty and full of potholes. Ragged small children ran around everywhere, begging or looking for things they could pick up and sell. Girls who looked to be only 6-7 years old carried babies, presumably their younger siblings. Under the bridge there was little water but all the more garbage. Men pulled charts by hand.
In a tasteless display of wealth the big casinos and hotels towered above the poverty and the shantytowns. The poor Khmers stayed in the streets while well-dressed Thais guarded the entrances to the sparkling resorts. Sometimes an expensive car with Bangkok licence plates would drive past and honk to get the children out of the way.
Larson went to the Cambodian immigration. He asked a man for the application form but was careful not to accept his offer of “help”. The form was so simple only the illiterate could need any help filling it out. It merely asked for Larson’s name and address and how long he was going to stay in the Kingdom of Cambodia. Larson was tempted to write “five minutes at the most” but thought better of it. Maybe the Cambodian officials would not see the joke. He wrote 30 days.
Having paid his 1000 baht to Cambodian Immigration Larson decided to explore Poipet by foot. The dusty road led to a roundabout. On the roundabout was a huge billboard reminding Thais that Thaksin’s mobile phone company had a network in Cambodia too. Under the billboard were piles of garbage. Around the circle was a market. It was filthier than any market Larson had seen in Thailand. Some vendors sold food, but most of the space in the dust and mud was for motorbikes, small pickup trucks and a collection of well-used old Toyota Camrys. The men standing by the Toyotas asked Larson if he wanted a taxi to Siem Reap. Larson said no.
Gazing across to the rest of the town it didn’t strike Larson as if there was anything else to see in Poipet. There was more dusty road and more ugly buildings and slums. A motorbike taxi driver came up behind Larson and asked what he was looking for. Larson was tempted to say “boys”, but Poipet felt too dangerous for any adventure. The men in the roundabout stared at Larson and the Swede felt there wasn’t much that held them back from stabbing him and taking his wallet. Poipet felt untamed and risky in a way Thailand never had.
There must be moneyboys and entertainment here, thought Larson. Those gamblers in the casinos can’t all be straight. But how can I trust that motorbike guy? Where would he take me? I don’t dare explore this slummy place alone. He could take me to a back alley and that could be the end of me.
Larson had seen the first 200 meters of Poipet and that was enough. He walked back to Thailand via the Cambodian exit office and got his stamp.
Some enterprising souls had weight scales by the sidewalk and signs saying “one baht”. Some sold water. A mother and a couple of children were begging by the side of the road. Larson noticed the Khmers didn’t take as much pride in being clean and well groomed as the Thais did. The mother held a baby and a small boy was playing nearby. The boy was not dressed. As Larson walked past them the toddler looked at Larson. Larson smiled at the kid. The kid smiled back with great enthusiasm and decided to adopt the farang. He ran over and hugged Larson. The kid only reached as far as Larson’s knee. The boy started a game of hugging Larson’s leg, letting go, going back a few steps and running forward to hug again. Larson didn’t know what to do. The child charmed him but Larson felt conspicuous with this display of affection in public.
I hope nobody is filming this with a hidden camera, thought Larson. Here I am a white guy in Cambodia and this little naked kid is molesting my leg.
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