Although our interactions with the border guards on Monday gave us a feeling of comfort leaving the trucks at the Cambodian border, some second thoughts of course still existed. Is it safe to leave our cars at this border? The main immigration officer that we were dealing with told us it would be okay to leave the trucks, he then went inside to talk to his chief and returned to us with only one notation, "It is okay to leave the trucks, but they are not our responsibility."
Steve and I looked at each other both thinking, this is something you hear every day in the States. We don’t blame them for noting that they will not take responsibility. Just to make sure we ask the guard if he thinks personally they will be safe. He follows with a series of laughs and then states two more times, "Yes, but we are not responsible."
Here in Cambodia something that you get used to is the incessant smiling that all of the locals cannot seem to suppress. Along with these smiles come curious children saying hello over and over, groups of people surrounding the trucks in disbelief, and many many laughs. With our experience here so far, these laughs should just be taken as typical Cambodian excitement. Obviously, we would be out of our minds to leave the cars if this was a true laugh like you might get in the States reiterating the fact that what you are doing is such a bad idea it deserves a giggle.
Clearly the conclusion stood with those laughs being a sign of excitement since we did end up leaving the cars behind. One way or another someone had to go get Steve’s dad and Helen Todd, our newest team member, in Saigon. Once we arrived in Saigon the trucks were the last of our worries. We rode the bus speedily into town, found our hotel and got online. The first and foremost of our emails went out to our contacts at USAID to see if they had any ideas on ways we could get the cars into Vietnam.
The next few hours we took care of a few loose ends like visas, route planning and exchanging money. Our friend Hal at USAID had already responded to us by the time returned to the room. His response…
Subject: A Suggestion…
In a country where the average wage is less than a couple of dollars per day and car theft is common, I would recommend that you get back to your loaded 4×4 trucks as soon as possible…
I will see what I can find out for you about getting some permits.
Hal
Bouey read the email while sitting with his laptop on the bed and looked over at me saying, "This is not what we need right now." I was ready to hear something about why we would not be getting the trucks into Vietnam, but instead I heard the words of this email. This is a point in time where butterflies turn into a simply upset sense of being. Daily we are confronted by obstacles and challenges that we must overcome to keep this operation on the move. In our minds the solution we came up with for the trucks seemed to be completely reasonable while we spent a week or so in Vietnam.
"What do you think we should do?" Bouey asked me.
"I don’t know, I think it is highly unlikely that the trucks will get stolen."
"They are underneath a security camera, and behind a guarded gate. I agree."
"But what if the guards get paid off by someone?"
"It is Cambodia."
That is the truth. We were in Vietnam and the trucks were parked at the border in the hands of a bunch of guys that make less than $10 per day. We started to do some Internet research and go through some scenarios of why and how the cars would get stolen or broken into. According to a crime report on Cambodia, car theft is predominantly in Phnom Pehn and generally is a live robbery or car jacking. But a couple of facts off the Internet and two guys sitting at a cafe in Vietnam discussing scenarios is hardly the kind of thing that will put your mind at ease.
What the heck did Hal think that his advice would do for us? The trucks were already there, at risk. Admittedly, leaving the cars at the border or anywhere in a foreign and corrupt country is not the smartest idea. But as you go around the world, you have to make some concessions to your own safety and the possibility of theft or you will never sleep at night. In the end we needed to be in Saigon and the cars were going nowhere but back to Cambodia.
After another day of discussion it was final, I would be going back to get the vehicles in Cambodia and Steve would stay with his father and meet up with Helen. So how does one guy gather up and move two vehicles by himself? He doesn’t. Again the concessions come into play. We would have to leave one truck and my job was to find a safe place for it. The next morning Bouey’s father loaned me the last of the US dollars in his pocket, which was a total of $75. I then jumped on a bus headed for the border.
In the back of my head I knew that the trucks would be there, but the worries were still picking at my thoughts. Upon arrival at the Vietnam border there were many people waiting at immigration to get processed out of the country. I stood quite impatiently in line knowing that the trucks may or may not be just a couple hundred yards away. Finally, it was my turn and as soon as I received my passport stamps I was hurrying to the Cambodian border.
The trucks were on the opposite side of the immigration building…I had another 15 minutes of paperwork to get my visa and get through customs. Are you anxious yet? Because I am while just typing and this already happened to me. I paid my $20 for the visa, and the $1 for the "photo fee" even though a photo was not taken and there are no photos involved with Cambodian visas. After racing my way through the immigration checkpoint, I was then stopped at customs and quarantine, but from here I could relax because in all their glory Little Pepe and the Thundra were in sight through the window. Ahhhh…but the relaxation continues.
Upon entry the quarantine officer asked for my vaccination card. The highly populous country of Vietnam (over 85 million) can have a tendency to lend a few diseases to Cambodia from time to time and why not add another way to charge a cute little "fee" for not having your card. Upon informing the officer that my card was in my truck just outside the window, he smiled and said, "That is your truck? Go on through." Little P and Big T save themselves once again! We did not need to check on the two of them, they were making friends while we were gone.
I threw my bags in the truck and grabbed the Carnet to get another stamp into the country. The first customs officer I talked to escorted me outside to talk with the head hancho. The next thing you know I am sitting down with 6 customs officers having a homemade Khmer lunch. 
They all asked me questions about the trucks and were eager to learn more about the journey. The head officer did not speak much English, but wanted to participate by saying to me, "I am Cambodian customs officer, who are you?" I thought for a second and replied, "I am a just a guy driving around the world." Mine did not sound quite as official.
Upon finishing lunch one of the officers gave me his name and phone number in case we had any troubles at the next border. After all of these men’s generosity, my side of this exchange felt a little lacking. At this point the only thing to do was hand out some beer coozies and patches. The guards were overjoyed to have something that was part of our journey; their enthusiasm was like a magnet that made it hard to leave. To finish off the afternoon at the border I grabbed the Polaroid camera and snapped off a few shots with the boys for them to keep and took a couple of my own with my camera.
When packing up the Sequoia and driving away, the only thing that came to mind was shame for ever assuming that these upstanding Cambodians who protect their border would be the type to steal our trucks. Our gut instinct told us these were good men when we left the trucks. Although only for our best interests, our advice from Bangkok was based on little more than broad generalizations from a few people in an office who had never been to this border. No matter what the statistics say about a place, there are always more people that want good than bad, there are always more people that want to help than to hurt. This day at the border was a well placed reminder to look for the good in situations before assuming the worst, because well…assuming the worst really just makes you an ass with an uming on the end.
In Hal’s defense, he later took back his statement and said that the trucks would probably be okay, but his seeds were planted and the only thing we could do was send me back.
The rest of the day was filled with a gas purchase from a villager out of a barrel, entertaining about 30 locals full of curiosity at another "gas station", and barely squeezing into the remote town Kompong Cham with the last of a tank of gas and only $5 left in my pocket to get me dinner and a hotel. After being alone for a few days and in a more remote area than we have taken the expedition yet, the road ahead looks more exciting than ever and the view of the Mekong from my $5 hotel certainly helps to ease into the next part of the journey. Hello rural Cambodia and South Laos.
The local BP station
And we think that we need a truck to carry all of our gear?
The roads have a different way of curving here. It is very similar to a smoke signal, but a little more like a lightning bolt shooting out of the ground.
Welcome to Kratie, the next town after Kompong Cham
The Mekong from my hotel. A pretty nice view for only $5
