Today we leave Cambodia and head for the Vietnamese border.Things started well.
We enjoyed breakfast with the owner of The Sunday Guest House and her two year old, watching Nightmare on Elm Street IV.
We dodged a lengthy multi-party scam which works like this.
As in all countries, there is a complex and highly organised system of kick backs and commission payments that oil the wheels of the tourism machine. If a tuk tuk driver can be relied upon to deliver a stream of unwitting tourists to your guest house (even if they wanted to go elsewhere), pay him a cut to keep him sweet.
And have an elaborate story to justify your actions, in case someone questions you. The most common one is that your chosen guest house/museum/massage parlour is closed/burned down/overun with prostitutes and so you should let the driver take you to his commission paying destination of choice.
Today we wanted a ticket for the boat from Sihanoukville in Cambodia to Chau Doc in Vietnam.
"Sunday Guest House, can you book us two tickets, please?" we asked.
"Certainly, sir. We will call to reserve places for you, immediately" they reply.
"Ring, ring" goes the imaginary telephone at the ticket office.
A brief conversation with the imaginary ticket sales desk ensues.
"I am sorry sir, the quayside has been destroyed by a giant hard boiled egg. There will be no departures until tomorrow (fortuitously enabling you to stay for a further night in my guest house and enabling me to sell you the commission bearing ticket that is not available today)" says the guest house manageress.
We ducked that one and haggled for a reasonably priced tuk tuk to the quayside. The going rate is 2 dollars. The cartel that swarms around the guest house district insists on 9 dollars. We settled for 3 dollars after fending off some blatant untruths.
"It's a 30 minute journey" they said.
"No its not. It's 5 and you know it you rascally little rascal, you!" we replied.
"The road is up and we need to take a long detour via Spain" they tried again.
"No its not. We drove down that road yesterday and it was in fine fettle. Besides, your tuk tuk would never be able to operate legally in the European Union" we responded, feeling rather too proud of ourselves.
Lots of people must fall for this. Or at least get bored of haggling, as what is 9 dollars between friends - or at least between you and a chippy Cambodian guy who talks to you like he has known you all his life.
Eventually he folded. The game was up and 3 dollars was agreed. We all smiled as the game was played well and a deal had been reached without spilling any blood.
But soon enough a new game began.
When we arrived, it was to the bus station, not the quayside. Bus tickets pay commission, boat tickets do not.
"Take the bus instead. There is no boat today as the quay side..." he started.
"... A giant boiled egg? Yes, thank you, we heard that one earlier. The guest house said there were no boats today, as well" we retorted.
"Don't be ridiculous" he replied. "It's the boats, you see" he said. "They've all been stolen by the phantom boat snatcher. Its a real shame but there really are no boats today".
"Hmmm" we said. "But we can see plenty of boats from here. Are you sure that you are telling the truth?" We set off the hundred yards to the quay side.
He changed his tack as he followed.
"There are icebergs in the Mekong at this time of year" he said, increasingly desperately, whilst walking with us into the boat service office. "Do not take the boat. You will surely die".
"Rubbish" we said, becoming slightly annoyed with his flimsily researched warnings. "Icebergs calve from the main ice sheet between May and September. Its just not possible".
"People die regularly!" he added hopefully.
Tuk tuk slunk away, perhaps realising that now we had bought our boat tickets, it was probably a lost cause.
Unease set in as we enjoyed our pre departure drinks, watching the crew playing a game that was a cross between chess and cage fighting. The ticket sales office was in fact situated in the foyer of The Titanic Restaurant, complete with a mock up to the first class terrace and photos of the doomed ship, her captain and passengers.
"Will we die?" we asked the man at the ticket desk.
"Nooooo!" he exclaimed. "The Delta hasn't had icebergs since the last great calving from the Mekong Glacier in 2003" he added reassuringly.
We didn't believe him. It sounded like another scam........
We enjoyed breakfast with the owner of The Sunday Guest House and her two year old, watching Nightmare on Elm Street IV.
We dodged a lengthy multi-party scam which works like this.
As in all countries, there is a complex and highly organised system of kick backs and commission payments that oil the wheels of the tourism machine. If a tuk tuk driver can be relied upon to deliver a stream of unwitting tourists to your guest house (even if they wanted to go elsewhere), pay him a cut to keep him sweet.
And have an elaborate story to justify your actions, in case someone questions you. The most common one is that your chosen guest house/museum/massage parlour is closed/burned down/overun with prostitutes and so you should let the driver take you to his commission paying destination of choice.
Today we wanted a ticket for the boat from Sihanoukville in Cambodia to Chau Doc in Vietnam.
"Sunday Guest House, can you book us two tickets, please?" we asked.
"Certainly, sir. We will call to reserve places for you, immediately" they reply.
"Ring, ring" goes the imaginary telephone at the ticket office.
A brief conversation with the imaginary ticket sales desk ensues.
"I am sorry sir, the quayside has been destroyed by a giant hard boiled egg. There will be no departures until tomorrow (fortuitously enabling you to stay for a further night in my guest house and enabling me to sell you the commission bearing ticket that is not available today)" says the guest house manageress.
We ducked that one and haggled for a reasonably priced tuk tuk to the quayside. The going rate is 2 dollars. The cartel that swarms around the guest house district insists on 9 dollars. We settled for 3 dollars after fending off some blatant untruths.
"It's a 30 minute journey" they said.
"No its not. It's 5 and you know it you rascally little rascal, you!" we replied.
"The road is up and we need to take a long detour via Spain" they tried again.
"No its not. We drove down that road yesterday and it was in fine fettle. Besides, your tuk tuk would never be able to operate legally in the European Union" we responded, feeling rather too proud of ourselves.
Lots of people must fall for this. Or at least get bored of haggling, as what is 9 dollars between friends - or at least between you and a chippy Cambodian guy who talks to you like he has known you all his life.
Eventually he folded. The game was up and 3 dollars was agreed. We all smiled as the game was played well and a deal had been reached without spilling any blood.
But soon enough a new game began.
When we arrived, it was to the bus station, not the quayside. Bus tickets pay commission, boat tickets do not.
"Take the bus instead. There is no boat today as the quay side..." he started.
"... A giant boiled egg? Yes, thank you, we heard that one earlier. The guest house said there were no boats today, as well" we retorted.
"Don't be ridiculous" he replied. "It's the boats, you see" he said. "They've all been stolen by the phantom boat snatcher. Its a real shame but there really are no boats today".
"Hmmm" we said. "But we can see plenty of boats from here. Are you sure that you are telling the truth?" We set off the hundred yards to the quay side.
He changed his tack as he followed.
"There are icebergs in the Mekong at this time of year" he said, increasingly desperately, whilst walking with us into the boat service office. "Do not take the boat. You will surely die".
"Rubbish" we said, becoming slightly annoyed with his flimsily researched warnings. "Icebergs calve from the main ice sheet between May and September. Its just not possible".
"People die regularly!" he added hopefully.
Tuk tuk slunk away, perhaps realising that now we had bought our boat tickets, it was probably a lost cause.
Unease set in as we enjoyed our pre departure drinks, watching the crew playing a game that was a cross between chess and cage fighting. The ticket sales office was in fact situated in the foyer of The Titanic Restaurant, complete with a mock up to the first class terrace and photos of the doomed ship, her captain and passengers.
"Will we die?" we asked the man at the ticket desk.
"Nooooo!" he exclaimed. "The Delta hasn't had icebergs since the last great calving from the Mekong Glacier in 2003" he added reassuringly.
We didn't believe him. It sounded like another scam........
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