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Call girls in the doorway All giving me the eye But my heart's just not in it I might as well pass right on by —Bob Dylan. Few, however, actually hang around in the town of Poipet itself. Naturally, as we passed through Masayo and I decided to get a room in Poipet for the night in order to see it more. The train left at an ungodly early hour. Masayo was dozing but I bought one.
The coffee was terrible. I looked out the window at the people in the station. The buzz of excitement was everywhere, even if nobody was quite awake yet. I sipped my coffee and loved its wretchedness. Eventually the train started to move and we started pushing through the outskirts of Bangkok. The city is, generally speaking, well-off and there are several nice districts with upscale shopping centers and nice, new apartment blocks.
After an hour in the hot Thai countryside the train arrived at the terminus of Aranyaprathet. In Aranyaprathet we found a small restaurant for our final Thai meal — noodles and chicken, natch.
We also changed some money over to Cambodian riels. And then it was time: Emerging from a narrow concrete walkway with a motley bunch of disconnected locals and other travelers, we saw a man with a clipboard waving us effusively over to a little covered area, inside which were about four guys sitting at a long cheap table.
Masayo and I approached and they asked us to sit down and hand them our passports. Alarm bells immediately went off in my head. Further towards the Cambodian border, as we passed under a giant gate decorated with the spires of Angkor Wat and then past a large casino and hotel complex, we saw that most tourists were entering a small immigration building on the right. I looked wanly at Masayo, who was tired but being patient with me and my paranoia. We returned to the covered area and its sighing and apparently official guards.