Bribery: It Can Work in Cambodia

A few years back, I began sharing stories from my various travels around the globe. It began as a way for me to relive my adventures, but soon turned into something my readers loved. {And please, ignore the formatting! One day I’ll get around to formatting all the old posts from before my blog’s redesign!} For one reason or another, I let those stories fall to the wayside, but I’m ready to bring them back again.  

Upon returning to the US after my year in South America, I moved in with my parents. I was 25-years-old, newly single, without a job and totally clueless as to my future path. So when Mom and Dad told me they were headed to Thailand for the winter {with brief stops in Tokyo in Cambodia} I was more than willing to join. After all, what was another two months abroad when my life was one big question mark?

After living in South America for so long, I was completely accustomed to living out of a backpack. I barely considered packing until the night before we left, and I gave a cursory glance at the passport and visa requirements.

We spent a week in Tokyo followed by 4.5 weeks in Thailand. After far too many days filled with Thai massages, sunny beaches and elephant sanctuaries, my parents and I hopped a plane and flew to Siem Reap International Airport. We only had five days in Cambodia, but we were psyched to check out Angkor Wat. It was on my dad’s bucket list and both of my parents were beyond stoked.

Until I almost gave them a heart attack.

We deplaned our small aircraft, gasping in the humidity as it smacked us in the face. The sun beat down on my shoulders as I moved in an amoeba-like herd with the others passengers towards the small terminal. Then, we began the waiting game.

Mom and Dad. Also, old camera = small photos. Sorry y’all.

In all of my travels, I’ve learned nothing if not patience! Here in the US, everyone wants immediate gratification. Commercials preach of the slowness of cash payments vs credit card payment while others honk their horn if they get stuck at a green light for more than 15 seconds. Other countries don’t operate with this same urgency, and Cambodia is no different. So we waited in customs. And waited. And waited some more. Finally, the stern-looking man behind the counter called my parents forward.

They moved together as a married couple, which is how customs and immigration works. Since I was technically a legal adult, I was considered a separate passenger and not a member of the family. No big deal; I could easily handle customs on my own. After all, I’d been doing just that while traveling through Latin America. What could possibly go wrong?

The stern-faced officer cleared Mom and Dad and another uniformed officer guided them through the locked glass door. They would meet me on the other side.

I stepped up to the counter and handed over my passport, along with the appropriate paperwork detailing where we were staying and how long we planned on visiting Cambodia. He asked me if I was touring Angkor Wat, and I enthusiastically nodded my head yes. I continued to prattle on in my exuberance, telling him how stoked I was to see the ancient ruins. I was midway through my dissertation when he slammed my passport shut and slid it back towards me on the sweaty counter.

“No Visa for you,” he told me.

Wait…..what??

Positive there was a mistake, I slid the passport back towards him and clarified. I wanted to stay in the country for five days. As an American citizen, I did need a visa to do this legally. What was the problem?

This back-and-forth game lasted for a few minutes before the issue became clear: I screwed up. While traveling in South America, most visas has been of the virtual sort. You hit a border, you paid for your visa, and they gave you a stamp in your passport. Very rarely was there a colorful, full-page sticker that you frequently see in other countries. Of course, I had no idea about this at the time and my pre-trip research had been abysmal at best. As it turned out, Cambodian laws dictates that tourists have at least one full-page empty in their passport to house a visa sticker. And as it turned out, my passport was 100%, unequivocally full.

Well, shit.

I stood at the counter in a small panic. My parents could see me from the other side of the glass wall, but they had no idea what was going on. I’m sure they saw the concern in my eyes, but there was nothing they could do. In retrospect, I was similar to Tom Hanks in that movie The Terminal. I was stuck on one side of the wall at the airport with no way through towards the other side. In a word, I was trapped.

My feet were glued to the floor as I stood at the counter, staring at this rule-abiding immigration officer. After 30 seconds of an awkward-yet-silent staring contest, I realized that he hadn’t demanded I leave. He hadn’t forced me outside and he hadn’t asked me to go away. A lightbulb went off in my head.

Before I knew what I was doing, I pulled an American $20 bill out of my pocket, stuck it in my passport, and slid it back across the counter towards the man. And then I stood there, fidgeting and paralyzed in fear. What the hell had I just done? Vivid scenes from various movies poured into my brain, helping me visualize my future jail cell. I had just tried to bribe an officer.

What was I thinking?

Would my parents be able to visit me in a Cambodian jail?

How much was a lawyer going to cost??

I continued to stare at my feet, twitching and mentally freaking out. Then, out of nowhere, I heard the most glorious sound in all of my {then} 25 years: the passport entrance stamp banging against the side of a page.

I timidly looked up at the guard, anticipating the worst. Instead, he smiled at me, slid my passport back towards me, and said, “Have a nice vacation. NEXT!”

I wanted to look down at my passport and figure out what exactly had occurred during those interminable five minutes, but I didn’t dare. I grabbed my valuable documents and hightailed it to the other side of the glass wall. I smacked into my parents who were concerned, to say the least. “What in the world happened?” asked my mama.

I glanced at my passport, finally safe enough to inspect the pages. Sure enough, the $20 bill was gone. In it’s place was a shiny new Cambodia visa, plastered on top of four entrance/exits stamps from Chile and Argentina. Proof of my Chilean travels did not exist anymore, but I sure as hell had evidence that I was in Cambodia.

Onto Angkor Wat!

********************