South of the border, down Stung Treng way

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The final night in Si Phan Don was the best of the lot, a rainstorm clearing the air of the humidity and allowing some sleep. The trip to the Cambodian border was uneventful though having to pay for an exit stamp for Laos, then for a Cambodian visa-on-arrival, then for a Cambodian entry stamp, smacked of a rip-off.

Despite the travel company knowing hours earlier just how many passengers needed to get from the border onwards, it turned out that the bus they had laid on was too small. After a wait, a saloon car turned up and the travel company agent asked for 4 volunteers. Reasoning that this could hardly fail to be more comfortable than the bus, LA Woman and I stuck our hands up.

In hindsight this was a mistake. Firstly, there were already 3 (yes 3) people in the front seat- the driver and a woman in the driver's seat, and another woman in the passenger seat. 2 other foreigners were crammed in the back seat with us. It was not comfortable. Secondly, our luggage was left on the bus, meaning however quick the car was, we would still have to wait for the bus in order to retrieve our luggage. Thirdly, the car driver took a 45 minute detour in order to pick up a durian fruit. I can't explain that. The overall result of this was that we arrived at Stung Treng later than the bus, having gained absolutely nothing from going by car.

I had mixed feelings about leaving Laos. Though it had been nothing like the travellers' paradise that many people inexplicably make it out to be, the time I'd spent going from Louang Phabang to Xam Nua had felt genuine and entirely untouristed. Arriving in Cambodia had been a tedious experience, and the unwelcome presence of accommodation touts in Stung Treng (hardly a tourist town) did not bode well for the rest of the country.

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