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Sunday 27 March 2011

Day 57: The Night Bus to Snookyville (26/03/2011)

"The night bus very good!" says the man behind the counter.
"How much for ticket?" I ask in my bizarre pigeon-english that is also responsible repeating myself to uncomprehending foreigners, only much more loudly than before, and muttering made up words for 'sorry' at locals under my breath when I crush their toes.
"You sleep always" he replies cheerfully, the outgoing words dodging the incoming Tom Yam that he is spooning into his mouth.
"You lie like a cheap rug" is what I would have said, if only I had been born with the gift of foresight.
After several minutes of failed negotiations, I finally concluded that Vikram Buntham Transport Co. had a strict no haggling policy with tourists and 18 dollars was 18 dollars, not a cent less. Locals do pay significantly less. And probably rightly so, if for a moment, you step outside the local price bubble that causes otherwise pleasant Americans to spend the heat of the day beating a 6 year old bracelet girl down to 90 cents, from the three for a dollar routine.
It all started so promisingly. Consider the modular components for the perfect flat pack night bus trip.
-       A leisurely dinner – check.
-       Arrive at the bus station in good time – check.
-       Secure best possible bed-seat – check.
-       Get out of Siem Reap without collision, arbitrary arrest or detention – check.
Ten hours to Sihanoukville and what can go wrong? Perhaps a minor electrical fault, or a small on board fire. Surely we could cope with that? This is the 21st century and we are not going far from civilisation.
Ask Apollo 13.
Fifty minutes into the journey the air conditioning coughed. Five more and it spluttered and released its last ragged breath of cool air. When the hour was up, plastic fittings were melting and tempers were fraying. Anthropologists say we are only three square meals from anarchy. Tonight it was one broken heat exchanger.
I enquired if a window could be opened. Rama, our host went one better and slung open all the coach doors. On the plus side, the heat evaporated and a merciful gale of night air blasted through the cabin. With it came waves of jasmine and wood smoke. On the minus, there was nothing between a careless step and tarmac oblivion. 
A short moment later a contingent of Russians from the rear, launched a pre-emptive counter strike."Close the doors" they said in menacing Slavic tones. "The wind is ruining our hair".
Rama was caught between opposing fire but manfully held his ground. The doors were staying open.
Yevgeni bitch-slapped him to the ground and wrenched the doors shut manually.
Philomena, from a row behind us was not taking this challenge to empire lying down, but only if you discount the fact that she was actually lying down at the time, this being an overnight sleeper service. Straight to the front she marched.
She arched a patrician eyebrow at the now cowering Rama, dazed him with a hay-maker from the left and delivered the knockout blow with a pile-driving right before firing a string of aristocratic epithets at his motionless form.
Yevgeni lost his nerve in the face of this onslaught and buckled without further resistance. The doors opened and the swirling, hair curling vortex returned.
Rama was nowhere to be seen when the bus arrived at Phnom Penh in the early hours of the morning and it was probably for his own safety. The burly Khmer driver curtly advised that the bus was broken and we must disembark. Meekly, Philomena, Yevgeni and the rest of the passengers complied.
Panic ensued when there was talk of the replacement bus departing before luggage had been retrieved. Scrambling bodies tugged and pulled at the jammed hold. Zippers split, canvas tore and grown men cried like boys before all the bags were out. In the end the replacement Sihanoukville bus didn't leave for another 40 minutes while the relief driver chatted with this friends and enjoyed a 15 course road side taster menu.
At 5.30am we were disgorged into the bright Snookyville dawn, confused and disoriented by sleep deprivation and still with a battle to wage against the tuk tuk cartel at the bus station.
"You sleep always" he said.
Yeah, right!!

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