Some 30 kms further I reached a second border post, Royau (is this Sway Rieng?), where I had to wait rather long, walked up and down from one post to another. Some important document for my jeep appeared to be missing, but fortunately I was dressed in Charles' Malaysian forces uniform, so an officer sitting and waiting for his own documents came to my help and I was soon admitted, jeep included By now, I had completely finished the 100 riels of gasoline I had bought in Phnom Penh, so here I filled up again for 200 piasters.
An old man stepped into the passenger's side without saying a word, and shook my arm a half an hour later till I stopped and he stepped out without one word.
It was as if the border really separated two distinctly different countries: In Vietnam people were different and you saw different things. Farmers here were dressed in brown, in Cambodja in black. The road was better. There were many pony carts, with plumes on the ponies' heads and brass bells around their necks. I encountered numerous carts loaded with baskets. There were many military posts along the road and each bridge had a guard post.