Soon as the last passenger sat in his seat, our bus dashed through the neutral zone separating Vietnam and Cambodia. The atmosphere was somehow changing. One minute later, when the bus finally reached the immigration post of the Kingdom of Cambodia, all of the passengers were ordered to get off.
Right beside the bus’s front door, two immigration officers had stood up, ready to retrieve our passports. I gave my passport suspiciously, so did Ching, a 27-year-old Chinese citizen who sat beside me on the bus. We entered the immigration post. Crossing the whole length of it, we ended up at the other end of the building—with no explanation whatsoever and no passport in our hand. Baca lebih lanjut
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