When the going gets tough, I think of how I arrived in Cambodia.

I was on a little island in the middle of Laos, and I had the idea to depart early, go to the border, and enter Cambodia. I had heard you could only use “the water crossing” in the morning, yet didn’t fully grasp what that meant.

I jumped in a little boat, took off, and arrived in the village on the other side of the river an hour later. There were no buses available, so I managed to bargain with a couple who could take me to the border. Although I had thought the price would be $3 total, it turns out, due to miscommunication or me not clarifying, it was $3 each.

At the border, I was asked for a “$1 visa processing fee” or something similar, which seemed absurd because I was leaving the country. I replied “OK, but I need a receipt”. “Sure.” and he pulled out a book and wrote me up a receipt. Fine, he had called my bluff; he could have the dollar.

I wandered to the Cambodia border and was asked for another fee, apparently “$5 you, and $5 you, $10”. Having had enough of this I asked for an explanation and a receipt, and the negotiations continued. Eventually, the guard had enough, stamped our passports, closed his briefcase, and walked away. He would get the last laugh, as this was the water crossing, and the ferry only works in the morning.

Two guys sat in a car and informed me “you need to go back to the main road, and then go to the land crossing”. Ugh. “$60 and I’ll take you”. I tried to negotiate down to under $20, but they wouldn’t budge. “Petrol prices are so high!”.

I started walking.

Soon I managed to get a ride in the back of a truck to the main road and get some guidance on which road to take. The road, barely wider than a path, ran for 10 kilometres through the jungle.

Two hours of walking later and I was at the border, yet no guards could be found, so I cautiously looked around. There was… nothing. Oh! A police station! Excellent. Upon entry there were several goats in the corner, and nobody to be seen.

Upon walking out on the road, and realising it was about 4pm, the consequences of my spontaneity became clear: it was 57km to my destination. I started walking, trusting that an opportunity would present itself.

Within two km that opportunity came, as some guys drinking beer and playing cards offered to take me to the next city. We negotiated from $30 and $8 before settling on $16. I squeezed onto a scooter, and we set off, and two hours later arrived at the city. I found a little guesthouse, showered, and collapsed.

Over the next week I would wind my way up to Angkor Wat, where I would meet a couple from Chile for the third time on this trip, and then spend a few days in Phnom Penh.

As would be expected, after departing Cambodia and entering Vietnam, the border officials wanted another fee for “a health check”. I tried to make light of it, but unfortunately I still think I had to pay.

My friends from Chile. I eventually stayed with them in Santiago about 6 years later.