(Another) Return to Cambodia
My flight from Paris to Bangkok was a gentle step down from flying business class. I was economy, but the seat next to me was empty, and in the aisle seat was a nice Brazilian man going to Vientiane for business. Nothing about the flight was remarkably good or bad (which I suppose is a good thing overall). We arrived in Bangkok ahead of schedule, and instead of joining the masses of people in line at immigration, I went to the next section of immigration (note the poor design of the Bangkok airport) where there was absolutely no one and at least six officers doing nothing. I went through with no trouble and went to get my baggage, passing along the way, at least two 747s of people waiting in line at immigration. I got my bags (after the luggage got stuck coming out for a good fifteen minutes, siren and all, before someone came to fix it) and caught a taxi.
After showering and starting the laundry, I grabbed my viola to meet a friend of a friend of a friend who plays piano, as we had arranged to read some sonatas for viola and piano. We played for almost three hours, and it was really fun (even though both of us were quite out of practice). Then I went home to an unpleasant surprise: I had washed my passport.
It was in decent condition, albeit faded, wrinkled, and curled up. I put it under my suitcase and kicked myself for leaving it in my pocket. My beautiful passport, with its new page extensions! Anyway, the next morning I checked it, and it was flatter and potentially usable. After doing nothing much during the day, I went to the airport to fly back to Phnom Penh. After waiting in a barely-moving but short line, I was told at check-in girl that the flight was already an hour behind. I checked my stuff and proceeded to the gate anyway. Where else was I going to go?
At immigration (where there were absolutely no lines), I presented my passport to the girl on duty, and she looked at it, slightly amused and a little wary. After verifying that it was indeed my picture and that it wasn't a fake, she looked at my departure form. I had filled out a new one, as the original was mostly destroyed in the washer. She asked if I had the old one, so I pulled out some barely legible shreds of paper that I managed to salvage. She started laughing and showed them to a coworker. She ushered me through to the supervisor, who looked with similar amusement and stamped my passport and allowed me through.
To make a really long wait shorter on paper, I essentially waited for over three hours, as two flights scheduled after mine departed before mine, from the same gate. Two hours later than scheduled, then we boarded and left. I amused the two Germans next to me on the flight by ravenously eating every bland and mediocre item of food from my meal, while one of the Germans drank only a glass of red wine and water. We arrived in Phnom Penh, and I managed to amuse another immigration officer with my passport. After declaring that I "put it in pocket and wash clothes," he let me through on the promise that I would get a new passport soon. I got my bags and caught a taxi home. By then it was about 10:30.
I was exhausted and went to sleep almost immediately after unpacking, only to wake up the next morning at 7:06, before my alarm. Welcome back to Cambodia.
