Chapter 16 - Scamalot

Entering a new country is always a daunting task. Having to get used to a new culture, a new language, new modes of transport and a new currency is no easy feat. You’re out of your comfort zone before you’ve even crossed the border. It’s hard. And what makes it even harder are the scam artists lurking in the shadows, waiting to pounce on the first naïve person that shows their bemused face.

Up until Bangkok we had done well to avoid any such scamsters. Stories traded by travelers over backpacker bar tables tend to keep one abreast of what’s happened to who and where. And websites like Lonely Planet and Travelfish are kept up to date with information about the latest con artists doing the rounds, so you generally know what to look out for when you’re on the road.

But the unfortunate truth is, no matter how scam-savvy you are, there will come a time on your travels where you will fall victim to the cons of one of these slimy men.

Our time came heading into Siem Reap in Cambodia.

It was 7am when the bus pulled up outside our guesthouse near Khaosan Road in Bangkok. It was bang on time and looked exactly like the one they had shown us in the picture the day before. Good start.

We chucked our bags in the under carriage, took our seats and we were off. Around the corner. Where we stopped. For 2 hours. End of good start.

When we finally got on the road (again) the journey to the border was fairly painless, apart from having 1 too many wee stops to satisfy even the weakest of bladders. We later found out that these stops are planned to ensure you arrive well after your ETA and absolutely exhausted, so you’ll succumb to whatever they throw at you when you get to the other side.

But the fun really began when we pulled up at a cafe displaying prices that would give a Ramsey restaurant a run for its money.

We were booted off the bus and met by a group of Cambodian gents that greeted us like we were their lost friends from a childhood long past. They were introduced to the group as the guys who would be “looking after” us for the rest of the journey, and as we found a table and took our seats they seemed to disperse into the group “assigning” themselves pairs or trios of travelers.

Our friendly chap took his place opposite us and without hesitation struck up a conversation in what was almost perfect English. He asked us questions about our country and gave us little tidbits about things to see and do in his. We chatted for a while about our families and our homes and he seemed genuinely interested and interesting, which I guess, looking back now, is what relaxed us into the situation.

As time went by we began to like this person. Trust him even. So when he started saying things like “No problem, I’ll take your passports, it’ll be quicker to process your visas if I do it because I’m Cambodian” or “the government says you have to come into the country with X amount of money now” or “this is the last place you’ll be able to exchange your Bhat because the rest of Cambodia doesn’t take that currency,” it really put a spanner in the works because nowhere in any of the research we’d researched did we remember it saying any such things.

When you’re put in a situation like this, you suddenly begin to question yourself and your sources of information. You start to quiz each other on what you remember about what you read. Then you start to question him, but you like him. He’s so nice, and the only supply of “trustworthy” information you have at your disposal now that you’re in the middle of nowhere.

Panic slowly takes hold of you. You’re running out of time. “The bus needs to leave” he says, but you’re caught up in your own confusion. The words “what if he’s right” are ringing in your head, but your gut is screaming “SCAM, SCAM, SCAM!”

Decisions need to be made. So you make them. Right or wrong? You have no idea.

The next thing you know you’re getting back on a bus, not the bus you came in on, and definitely not the one that they showed you in the picture the day before. You sit down, trying to piece together what just happened and make sense of what you’ve just done. Your new best friend is nowhere to be seen and all of a sudden the penny drops…

I’d like to say the whole thing ended there, and we were left to contemplate our stupidity for the rest of the journey, but it didn’t.

Another hefty amount of (tactical) stops meant that we arrived in Siem Reap well after dark, just as they had planned. The bus stopped about 5Kms outside the town with organized Tuk-Tuks ready and waiting to pick us up, rip us off and drop us at the guesthouse we had basically been sold to. As we were literally in the middle of nowhere, we had no choice but to take them.

Our trip finally ended with a rather nasty exchange with the driver when he tried to accuse us of ripping him off. The bloody cheek.

We had been taken for a ride.

In essence, this may all sound a bit lame and, well, avoidable. And for the most part it probably was. But that’s the thing about a con artist and his cons, they make you question yourself and everything you know to be true. They plant the seed of doubt in your head, insecurity sets in, and that’s when the scamsters won.

The shittest thing about it all is not the loss of money believe it or not (although that does suck), it’s the kick you give yourself when you start to look back and realize you’re the idiot who fell for it all. The whole thing happens right in front of your face and it’s you who makes the decisions that result in your loss of cash. You practically give your hard-earned money away.

At the end of the day you have to take your hat off to these shysters who have the ability to make a fool out of even the smartest of folk. And take the experience as a lesson learnt albeit a rather unpleasant one.