Part 5: The Passage to Cambodia 1

The following morning was not the easiest of times to say the least.  We both struggled to get up and clean ourselves up.  But we had to be up and out of there to meet the guide who would take us to the bus.  He met us outside the hostel and led us towards the main road, herding other passengers on the way, as is customary on any bus journey here.  Every step was a struggle in the heat, and the idea of being on a bus for an unknown amount of time wasn’t the most attractive of prospects.

We were at the head of the pack of bus goers, and once we got to the main street the guide shouted out to me, “bah led cala!” as he climbed on to the back of a scooter and took off.  I have to admit I had a hard time understanding most people in Thailand and Madonna served as the interpreter of the group even when people were speaking in English.  I thought oh he wants us to go to a street named “baht led cala”- that sounds quite Thai and plausible.  As I was surveying the street signs, Madonna looked at me and said, “You idiot.  He said bus red colour.  It’s right there!”  Oh he meant that huge red bus right in front of us.  I see.

As is the norm in these parts it’s hard to actually get someone to tell you what bus is going where and if the one standing right in front of you is actually going where you need it to go.  The decals on the bus spelling out every city from Chang Mai to Pattaya aren’t exactly helpful either.  I saw a few tourists who I thought were from some Andean region, owing to their facial structure and use of Spanish.  I’ll interject here and say that I am obsessed with the idea that I can tell where a person is from simply from the bone structure of their face.  It may or may not be real, but I’m going to keep on pretending that it’s my superpower.  For the record they were Chilean- a fact I learned from peeking at their passports later.



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