Dalama Adventures Tale of two corporate types ditching their jobs and traveling the world for 14 months... check out all photos, blogs & interesting tid bits at http://www.dalama.net

Deciding which route to take through Cambodia and into Vietnam was a challenge.  We wanted the adventure of crossing at the newly rumored open border of Ha Tien, the far southeast corner of Cambodia, and then making our way through the Mekong Delta through to Saigon.  The guy at the embassy said it was no problem to cross, but we'd also heard stories that others had been given the same information from the embassy, only to be turned away after making the long trip over very poor roads.  We were also uncertain as to what type of transportation infrastructure actually existed over the border, to get us from Ha Tien, through the delta, and eventually up to Saigon.  Reports we were getting from people in Cambodia were that it wasn't something to pursue in the wet season; that the already very poor roads would be difficult to pass through, and could be potentially flooded.  Not what we had wanted to hear... besides a very high cost to get us from Sihanoukville to Ha Tien (there are no busses, and we would have to take a taxi), the rain has been dumping now for days, and with our luck, we'd probably need a boat for us, our taxi driver and luggage to eventually make it in a weeks time.  So we opted for the less adventurous, and boring route, in our perspective - bus via Phnom Penh and due east through the Moc Bai/Baret border crossing.  

So off we went on our early morning big bus ride.  We showed up to the station an hour early, and searched for a local food stand to get a bit of breakfast. We quickly opted out of eating when I saw a woman hauling off a dead rat the size of a rabbit, on her cooking spatula, to the parking lot trash mounds.  Any hunger pains I had quickly dissipated.  Between that scene, and the stinky European middle-aged backpacker blowing snot from his nose directly onto the bus floor, that was all we needed to permanently lose our appetite for the rest of the morning.  So we sped off through the rain, uneventfully, reaching the station in Phnom Penh and changing buses.  

We had forgotten, during our relaxed 4 day stay at the beach, how aggressive the tuk-tuk touts were in the big Cambodian cities.  We were surrounded by a sea of drivers all wanting to take us and our bags to some hotel they get a nice commission kick-back from.  All we needed was to get our packs and cross the street safely to board our next bus - no easy feat.  "Lady... you stay in Phnom Penh one night, I bring you back to bus to Vietnam tomorrow - I need money, so you stay here for me so I can eat," pipes the skinny tuk-tuk driver.  "Sorry, man," I chimed, "we've got our tickets and we're only walking across the road," as we forced our way through the countless underemployed mass of bodies to our bus and loaded in the packs.  Darrin found a small package of Tim Tam wafers on sale in a local store - ah, paradise found, so we were set for the next leg of the trip and our lunch.  

The road to the Vietnam border was all chopped up and men drive big earth moving trucks, and women haul big chunks of rock... all common sights.  Stilted houses line the roadside, and locals nap in hammocks underneath their stilted structures, seeking refuge from the heat.  We figured it must flood to a pretty high level during the height of the rainy season, given the height of the stilted houses.  Men are sleeping in hammocks inside the cabs of their construction trucks for the lunch hour siesta.  We sit for 20 minutes in a big dirt lot, waiting to catch the ferry that will shuttle our bus across the river.  We all exit the bus to get a bit of air and exercise.  We're bombarded with street vendors selling sunglasses, hats and lots of critters on sticks.  A minibus pulls up next to us with a group of 10-12 guys on the roof, all doing shots of some local Cambodian whisky, drinking beer and eating skewered snakes.  They are at eye level with us on the bus, and motion to us to come up and join them.  We thank them for the offer, but kindly decline.  They're happy, however, to smile and pose with their snakes for photos.  We finally make it across the river and to the border crossing where we pass through a seamless exit process from Cambodia, where the big immigration officer checks our passports to ensure we didn't overstay our 30 day visa, and that we look like our actual passport pictures.  Darrin always gets the double take these days, as his hair is now down to the tops of his shoulders and beard now a bit fuller.  It was a smooth shot across the Cambodian border, with no extortion fees to pay.  Vietnam's crossing was through a big, clean building.  We waited no more than a half hour for them to clear us through, scan our bags, and welcome us into their country for the next 30 days.  Again, we were impressed, no bribes to pay, and we flew through the process.   

We had one pit stop where the toilet experience was very bizarre.  They actually had nice western toilets, but prior to entering the stall area, we were requested to remove our shoes and put on a pair of white plastic flip flops... welcome to the best way to spread athlete's foot.  So we reluctantly leave our shoes at the door (hoping we'll see them again when we get out) and slide our feet into the plastic sandals from the person just vacating the stall.  Nasty.

We drove several more hours, through green rice paddies.  Most homes have front lawns that are made into gardens as well as rice paddies, all neatly arranged and maintained.  Women in the fields are covered from head to toe; rice hats with scarves strapping their hats to their faces, protecting them from the scorching sun.  They also wear the common pajama wear during the day, and many wear gloves that stretch up past their biceps and plastic boots in the fields... all this in 90 degree weather.  We make our way into Saigon after dark, and after politely declining moto and cyclo rides, we strap on our packs and search for a guesthouse to park ourselves for the next couple of nights.