One solitary minibus
sits still on the gravel, the morning is dark and wet following an
overnight shower. I am part of a group of nearly twenty people
standing in bemusement as the driver attempts to squeeze us and all
of our bags into the tiny bus that should only carry 16 people.
The bags a piled high on the front passenger seats and overhang the
four seats that face away from the driver directly behind him.
All the time, our comments declaring this as a farce are met with a
response, "This is only for 3 hours until we meet your VIP
bus". It's of no use complaining at the situation and as
he says, it's only for three hours until we meet our bigger and more
comfortable bus that will take us to Banlung.
Five people are
squeezed onto each row that should only seat 4 people. It's
uncomfortable. Tom and I are sitting behind the driver facing
backwards and our heads are tilted downwards as the bags stop us from
sitting back with our heads against the head rests. It's
uncomfortable. We feel lucky as there are only three people on
our row but just before we departed another girl hoped aboard
and we were squeezed up with our hip bones grating against one
another. It's only for three hours, then we will have comfort
once again.
The driver smiles as he
knows he's got away with it again and slams the door shut without
hesitation. With that slam, a bag hanging over our heads
gets dislodged and slowly falls upon us. The bus hasn't even
moved yet and bags are falling. The minibus winds it's way
through the still quiet streets of Siem Reap and the sun is now
beginning to brighten the sky. It's the second time in a week
that I had been up for sunrise althoughthe first time, despite the
initial anxiety, was far more pleasurable. Whilst watching the
tourist centre of Siem Reap disappear, I remember what Dr Richner had
said last night. He reminded us that although the centre of
Siem Reap is full of expensive hotels and nice restaurants, it is a
fascade that is masking the true poverty of Cambodia for tourists.
An hour has past by
since we left the city limits of Siem Reap and the rain has begun to
drop heavy loads on us. When the rain falls, fear of accidents
increases. Despite the rain, the minibus is getting warmer and
we're stuck with the decision of having the window open and getting
wet, or keep it shut and let the hot and humid air slowly suffocate
us. We chose to open the windows. The bus is full of
tired looking western faces all feeling let down yet again.
Nobody speaks. Everybody is just staring blankly at the flat
terrain passing by out of the window, it's flat like Norfolk and
reminds me of home somewhat. Some have MP3 players blasting
music in their ears as they try to forget where they are and let
their musical memory take over for a while.
My treasured companion
on this trip is my Creative Zen MP3 player and I don't know what I
would do without it. Everytime I leave somewhere I have a
routine check of my important items, wallet, passport, camera, MP3
Player. All other items are circumstantial and easily be
replaced. I made a terrible mistake in China when I was trying
to transfer some episodes of '24' onto my Zen and instead of hitting
'Eject', I hit 'Format' (stupid buttons are next to each other!) and
it wiped my entire music collection. Thankfully, I had brought
an external hard drive with all of my music on so it wasn't lost
forever due to my incompetent Mandarin reading skills.
The journey is becoming
increasingly tedious as we drive along an unremarkable road that has
the normal amount of bumps in it than any South East Asian Country
that intermittently stir you from your slumber. It's now been a
couple of hours since we left Siem Reap and it still hasn't stopped
raining. The bus driver slows and negotiates his way off the
road and into a small car park. Great, it must be break time.
Time to stretch the legs, grab a bit to eat and go to the toilet.
As soon as the doors open, everyone becomes excited and impatience
fills their eyes as they want freedom from the cramped minibus and
taste some fresh air.
I have learnt that pit
stops in South East Asia are inconsistent and sometimes far too
long. This stop was no exception, we're standing there looking
at each other with eagerness as we want to get back on the road and
to our destination whilst the driver sits there munching down some
noodles and drinking gallons of tea. I wonder how much the bus
drivers receive from the owners for bringing their load to a persons
shop/café? I leave the restaurant area and quickly run next
door where a make shift shop has been erected under some tarpaulin.
There were several baskets with different types of goods in them,
mainly biscuit type treats. I bought a packet of digestive
biscuits from the lady and returned to the restaurant with the other
people waiting patiently.
It wasn't long until
the bus driver stood up and began to summon us to the bus. Only
another hour, I was thinking. It's already been two hours, the
worst is over. We all climb back into our seats in silence.
Some have food, some have drink and some don't have anything and sit
there staring outside again, speechless. Indeed another hour
did pass by and the bus stopped on the side of the road.
Fantastic, I thought as I admired the 'V.I.P' bus parked up beckoning
people aboard to experience its luxury. 'People go to Laos, get
off, change bus now.' the bus driver ordered. 'What?
How about Banlung?' I enquired. 'No, one more hour. Then
change bus.' he responded.
Feeling dejected, we're
back on the bus again but at least there is more space to stretch out
comfortably since half the passengers have got off. I
intermittently look at my watch and the second hand seems to be
moving backwards. However, unnervingly true to his word, the bus
pulls into a town, with incredibly dusty streets and we're asked to
get off. We are asked to queue up at a desk to exchange our
tickets for our next bus. You can sense that everybody is happy
and utterly relieved to finally be getting onto our 'VIP' bus and
perhaps relax for a few more hours until we reach Banlung.
In a happy and
prosperous step, I lead the others across the road with our bags in
our hands towards the bus that is waiting to take us the rest of the
way. After safetly navigating the traffic I begin to climb into
the bus and as my head turns to view the inside, my smile lessens and
my mind begins to boggle. There are no available seats left on
the bus. Not only were there no seats left, the isle was also
full of people sitting on packages and bags of rice. The sea of
Khmer faces stare back at me blankly as I turn around and pass on the
bad news to the others.
"You're not going
to believe this guys, but there are no seats left!" I warn
the others and in shock and disbelief they each go onto the bus and
discover the truth of my words. Swearing begins amongst the
group as the final straw has very much borken the camels back.
I head back across the road with a couple of others and confront the
man. "Excuse me?" I begin politely. "How
do you expect us to fit on that bus." I ask and am met
with a blank look. "There are eight of us and there are no
seats."
"On your bag, on your bag!" The man insisted.
"How? No room in aisle!" I returned.
"On your bag!" He annoyingly repeated.
"We can't! There is NO ROOM!" I fired back feeling frustrated.
"We want a F***ING seat!" The Northern English girl returned angrily.
"No, get on now, on bag." He defended.
"I don't think you understand… We paid $28 and there is NO ROOM to get on!" I said in an effort of understanding.
"How? No room in aisle!" I returned.
"On your bag!" He annoyingly repeated.
"We can't! There is NO ROOM!" I fired back feeling frustrated.
"We want a F***ING seat!" The Northern English girl returned angrily.
"No, get on now, on bag." He defended.
"I don't think you understand… We paid $28 and there is NO ROOM to get on!" I said in an effort of understanding.
"Not my problem!" He stated in an attempt to end the
debate.
By saying those three
words he ignited a rage deep within me. How dare he stand there
and tell us it's not his problem. "Who's problem is it
then?" I enquired.
"Not mine. Get on the bus." He flippantly responded.
"How can you say it's not your problem. You work for the company who sold us our tickets, right? Then it is your problem!" I try to remain calm as others begin shouting and swearing at him.
"How can you say it's not your problem. You work for the company who sold us our tickets, right? Then it is your problem!" I try to remain calm as others begin shouting and swearing at him.
Whilst this debate
continued, the driver of the bus had obviously reached his cut off
point and drove away without us. A brief moment of silence followed
where we all looked at one another.
“When is the next
bus?” We enquired.
“Tomorrow!” He
replied dryly without an ounce of care in his voice.
Oh great, we are now
stuck in the middle of nowhere. We were not getting any further, so
we provided the man with some options. Either, they take us all the
way to Banlung in the minibus or pay for accommodation overnight and
guarantee seats on the next bus. The man picked his phone up and
dialled a number, he began to speak fast and agitated down to the
person on the other end and then presented the phone to me and said
“Boss!”
I took the phone and
explained our predicament to the lady on the other end. She was
speaking fairly good English and asked me what we wanted her to do.
What did we want them to do? The bus we wanted was full and had just
left us. An option was for us to stay in this town until the next
day when we could try and get on the bus again but they weren't
prepared to pay for our accommodation. Another was for the minibus
to take us half way to Kratie where we could get on the bus and
hopefully get a seat from people who got off. They refused this
option too. The only option was for the minibus to drive us to catch
up with the 'VIP' bus and the lady promised us some plastic seats to
sit on in the isle. After arguing some more and trying to stand up
for our non existent rights we gave up and got back on the minibus to
catch up with the bus. The driver was driving like a maniac as he
was fuelled with frustration at these foreigners who had caused him
so much grief. I wasn't sure we'd actually make it to the bus alive.
Around ten minutes had
passed and we pulled into a roadside restaurant where the 'VIP' bus
was parked up waiting for us. What never occurred to the driver was
that there was no space on the bus back in that small unknown town,
how would there be space now? So here we are, a bit further down the
road but with the same issue. We all climbed out of the minibus and
grabbed our bags. As soon as we were outside the argumentative man,
whose problem it was not, was heading back inside the minibus to
drive away but I literally jumped in front of the van to stop them
and told him that he wasn't leaving until we got on the bus.
The negotiations
continued just like before but this time it was with the bus driver
and after another ten minutes, he stopped, hopped aboard clearly at
the end of his patience and began driving away without us. The bus
started to reverse back onto the road and we had no option but to
jump aboard. I was the last one to jump on and it was a squeeze, I
was hanging out of the door as the bus reached the road and began
driving off. I feared that it was going to be like this for the next
6 hours.
My fears were brought
to an abrupt end as the bus pulled over at a road side garage. The
driver stood up and barged by us, pushing me out of the bus onto the
gravel. I watched on angrily as the bus driver talked to the man and
his wife who obviously owned this garage. I say garage but it was
more like a shack where they lived but had some mechanical tools.
They finished talking and walked towards the rear wheel. The driver,
a large man, eased himself onto the floor, laid on the floor and
pulled himself under the bus to inspect the inside tyre which had
obviously had a puncture.
The drivers assistant,
a small lanky young man had retrieved some tools and had attended to
retrieving the spare wheel from under the bus. The other passengers
remained on board the bus, looking idly on as it was routine. I was
calming down after our anguishing last hour and enjoyed a moment of
peace looking around the garage on my own. As the workman, the
driver and his assistant pulled off the offending wheel, several
passengers obviously had had enough and got off the bus and walked
away looking to hitch the rest of their journey. That was great news
for us as it meant there maybe just enough space for us to squeeze
further on the bus.
Nicky and Tom with our Northern bus friends, it's funny now! |
The wheel had been
repaired and we were back on the road again but this time we had
managed to find enough room to use the plastic stools that were
supplied to us. It was uncomfortable, Nicky's knees pushed into my
back and in turn my knees in the back of the girl in front. It's
only until we reach Kratie, we reminded our selves, only to Kratie.
The hours passed by slowly and Kratie seemed to be an allusive place
that would never appear. To my left, A northern English girl had
squeezed herself onto a seat with two Cambodian boys who seemed less
than happy to share their seats with her and to my right an angry
German girl sat there periodically swearing at the driver and his
assistant as they sneered and laughed at our uncomfortable position.
Kratie finally appeared
three long hours later. This is where we would finally be getting a
seat all to ourselves. We all looked on with eager eyes, locating
potential seats but they never materialised and the bus moved off
with even more angry foreigners on board than ever. I wouldn't mind
this situation if we had only paid $5 like my train ride in Mongolia,
I got what I paid for and I accepted it but this is blatantly taking
the piss. Paying $28 to be lied to and treated like cattle. Even
more frustration is that there is nothing we could do to put things
right or complain. We had to accept this situation, embrace it and
understand that we would look back at this journey and laugh about
it.
I finally got a seat
for the last couple of hours as we turned of the paved road onto the
a gravel like surface. The bus hit pot hole after pot hole throwing
us side to side making us hang on to the seat in front. Nicky was
still on the floor but seemed to be comfortable enough. Tom was
lucky enough to have gotten a seat a very long time ago somewhere
down the back of the bus. As we travelled across the precarious
wooden bridges over streams, rivers and ravines that creaked as the
bus made its way steadily across. The sun had gone down a long time
ago which made visibility down this narrow gravel road, surrounded on
both sides by jungle nearly non existent. Every now and again we
would see solitary houses amongst the trees with fires burning.
We eventually arrived
in Banlung around 9pm after one hell of a journey.... But that wasn't the end of it.....
"The bus hasn't even moved yet and bags are falling." Hilarious. Why does Nicky look so bloody happy in the photo? Sounds like a nightmare dude...but makes for hilarious reading. Keep blogging! Kathy x
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