Before I start imagining myself standing barefoot in the sand and convincing myself that a pad Thai from a street vendor is medically necessary, reality sets in: entry formalities. It sounds dry, but it's important – and surprisingly straightforward.

For Thailand, I have to fill out the digital entry registration (TDAC) before I travel. The whole thing is done online, costs nothing and takes about as long as a good sip of Chang. It's best to do this 1–3 days before departure, then my head is free for more important questions – for example: beach or temple first?

I should have the following ready:

• my passport
• flight details
• the address of my first accommodation

After submitting the form, I receive a digital confirmation. No drama, no paperwork – Thailand knows how to welcome guests.

Cambodia feels a bit like an adventure to me. And like any real adventure, it doesn't start in the jungle or at Angkor Wat, but... online.

Before entering the country, digital registration including an e-visa is mandatory. I fill out the form in advance – ideally a few days before departure, because the clock ticks a little slower here than in Bangkok. And I mean that affectionately.

For this I need:

• my passport
• flight or entry details
• an accommodation address
• a passport photo (Unfortunately, selfies at sunset don't count).

The fee is around 35–40 US dollars, and approval usually comes by email. Without it, however, the plane stays on the ground – at least for me.

My tip: print it out or save it offline. Not out of mistrust, but out of respect for a country that welcomes me with open arms but doesn't compromise when it comes to forms.

Driving in Thailand and Cambodia is not just a means of transport – it is a gentle culture shock on four wheels. Pure freedom, yes. But also a little adventure where you learn to let go. From the first indicator on the left (really left!) to the realisation that traffic rules here are more like friendly recommendations.

Driving on the left requires full concentration at first. Especially in cities like Bangkok or Phnom Penh, every intersection feels like improvisational theatre. In the countryside, on the other hand: wide open spaces, palm trees, rice fields – and suddenly, around the next bend, there's a temple, a market or a sunset that looks like it was ordered especially for your travel album.

The roads are mostly well constructed, but narrow, lively and surprising. Mopeds appear out of nowhere, dogs lie meditatively on the road and tuk-tuks have their own set of physical rules. Parking? Surprisingly relaxed. Often free, sometimes creative. Petrol stations are common in Thailand, less so in Cambodia – so it's best to fill up before the fuel gauge gets philosophical.

Driving licence:

• Thailand: German driving licence plus international driving licence recommended (and often required).
• Cambodia: International driving licence also advisable.

Thailand and Cambodia feel like freedom. Warm wind in your hair as you ride a scooter, street food stalls and that special feeling of being exactly where you want to be, surrounded by temple ruins, jungle and chaos. From a health perspective, both countries are safe to visit – as long as you use your common sense and don't leave everything to chance.

No compulsory vaccinations are required for entry from Europe. Nevertheless, the classic travel vaccinations such as tetanus, diphtheria and hepatitis A should be up to date, and for longer stays or more intensive travel, hepatitis B or rabies should also be considered. It may sound dry, but it will save you unnecessary drama on the road.

The tropical climate means well, but it is not always gentle. Heat, high humidity and air conditioning in continuous operation place considerable demands on the body. Drink plenty of fluids (really plenty), take the sun seriously and don't think that ‘just a quick trip without sunscreen’ is a good idea. Spoiler: it's not.

Mosquitoes are unfortunately part of the landscape – especially at dusk. Dengue fever occurs, but malaria is hardly a factor on classic travel routes. Nevertheless, good mosquito repellent is a must, not an option. Anyone who has ever stood in their room at night swatting mosquitoes knows why.

Pharmacies are easy to find in cities and tourist areas, often with a better selection than expected. Nevertheless, I always carry my own small first-aid kit with me – simply for the peace of mind of not having to discuss where the nearest pharmacy is at three in the morning. And yes: international health insurance with repatriation is not a luxury, but common sense.

My personal tip:

If you take medication regularly, bring enough with you – plus the package insert or prescription. Not because anyone would be suspicious, but because being organised when travelling is surprisingly reassuring.

In Thailand, you can get alcohol almost anywhere: 7-Eleven, beach bars, rooftops, night markets. Chang, Leo and Singha are popular – and, of course, colourful cocktails that look dangerously harmless. But beware: sales are restricted by law (usually 11 a.m. to 2 p.m. and 5 p.m. to midnight) and often completely prohibited on Buddhist holidays. And anyone who thinks they can stroll through temples or government offices with a beer in their hand will accumulate bad karma points faster than they can say ‘cheers’.

Cambodia is more relaxed, almost casual. In Phnom Penh or Siem Reap, beer is served openly, often even cheaper than water. Angkor Beer, Anchor, local rice wine – everything is available. But here, too, temples are not beer tables, and public drunkenness is tolerated but not respected.

What both countries have in common:

Drinking yes, showing off no.
Temples, memorials and rural areas require restraint.
Alcohol and heat are not friends – your body will say stop sooner than you think.

And then there is compassion: in both countries, you will encounter people whose everyday lives are much harder than our holiday mode. A little mindfulness – even when celebrating – just feels right here.

Thailand is the charming classic: around Koh Tao, the Similan Islands or Phi Phi, you glide through warm, clear water, past colourful corals, curious reef fish and occasionally a ray that looks so elegant it could have taken dance lessons. Perfect for beginners, relaxed for advanced divers – and sometimes even with shark encounters, without any drama.

Cambodia is a quieter destination. Less show, more feeling. Off Koh Rong and Koh Rong Samloem, the underwater world is not spectacularly loud, but pleasantly honest. Small reefs, seahorses, octopuses – and that quiet happiness when you realise that restraint also has its charm. Diving here feels like a conversation without many words.

There are plenty of diving schools in both countries – uncomplicated, friendly, down-to-earth. No one pushes, no one poses. People help each other with their jackets, laugh about fogged-up masks and share stories after the dive that are only half exaggerated.

Anyone who flies without permission and gets caught is not playing a game of roulette with a minor offence. In Thailand, there are heavy fines – and yes, even prison sentences. Thai prisons are not the kind of travel experience you can smile about later over a Chang beer. Believe me: it's something you can easily do without.

Precisely because Thailand and Cambodia are a dream for aerial photography, I understand the temptation all too well. Turquoise waters, temples in the morning light, jungle stretching to the horizon – a photographer's heart beats faster, the drone battery is charged. But this is precisely where restraint is part of the adventure. Respect for the country, its people and its rules is part of travelling – even if that sometimes means leaving the drone in your rucksack.

Update from 11 December 2025

Due to military tensions with Cambodia, additional drone bans apply in border regions. This affects eastern islands such as Koh Chang, Koh Kood and Koh Mak, among others. In addition, drone flights must now be registered via a CAAT app. This app also lists the current prohibited zones – handy if you want to know where you're allowed to fly. And reassuring if you want to know where you're better off not flying.

👉 My personal tip from everyday travel:

Always check the rules again shortly before your trip, only fly where it is expressly permitted, and if in doubt, listen to your gut feeling. A good photo is nice – but a respectful stay is priceless.

If you want to read more and are looking for an optimal, continuously updated overview, then take a look here:

Thailand 👉 https://drohnen-camp.de/drohnen-gesetze-in-thailand/

Cambodia 👉 https://drohnen-camp.de/drohnen-gesetze-in-kambodscha/

Travelling means freedom. But true freedom only comes when you know the rules of the game – and consciously abide by them. My current recommendation: if you are in Thailand, Phnom Penh or Angkor Wat, I would refrain from using drones if I were you. I won't be taking mine with me, even though it's hard for me. Übersetzt mit www.DeepL.com/Translator (kostenlose Version)

Thailand and Cambodia welcome me not with a weather forecast, but with a promise: warmth, humidity, life. Even the air here feels like adventure. Tropical all year round, mostly between 25 and 35 °C, sometimes oppressive, sometimes gentle – but always honest. This is not a climate for perfectionists, but for travellers with an open heart.

The best time to travel? For me, it's definitely November to February. It's warm but merciful, the air is a little lighter, the days are perfect for temple visits, jungle excursions and long evenings with plastic chairs, street food and cold drinks. These are the months when Thailand smiles and Cambodia tells its stories quietly.

From March to May, it gets hot – really hot. The kind of heat where even the shadows sweat and you learn to slow down. Sounds exhausting? It is. But it's this heat that forces you to take breaks, to listen, to arrive. Travel with compassion – for yourself.

Incidentally, the rainy season from May to October has a worse reputation than it deserves. Yes, it rains. But rarely all day. Mostly the showers are short, loud and dramatic – leaving behind green landscapes, empty temples and that special light that photographers love and travel bloggers romanticise (and rightly so).

My personal tip – from experience and mild sunburn:

Pack sun cream, patience and humour.

The sun means business, as do the roads sometimes – and plans here are more like rough suggestions. Those who accept this will be rewarded. With encounters, moments and stories that will stay with you.

Thailand and Cambodia are not travel destinations.

They are a gentle loss of control – and that's exactly what makes them so damn good.

Off the islands in the Gulf of Thailand, around Koh Tao or Koh Rong, you glide over coral that looks as if someone had used too much paint. Turquoise meets emerald, with schools of fish darting between them, seemingly unconcerned with travel plans, return flights or WhatsApp messages. Very appealing.

The visibility is often best in the early morning – when the day is still hesitant and the sea looks as if it has just opened its eyes. With a bit of luck, rays will swim by, and sometimes a turtle will pop its head up to check that everything is okay. And yes, you feel small. But in a good way.

• I admit it: you must bring your own mask and snorkel. Rental equipment often tells too many stories.

And if you're unsure, guided snorkelling tours are worthwhile. Not because of the programme, but because of the people. The local guides know the quiet spots – and tell you more about ‘their’ sea than any travel guide ever could.

I admit it: somewhere between booking the flight and buying my first mosquito repellent, it pops into my head – that quiet, Western-socialised question. ‘What's all crawling around here?’

Short answer: a lot. Long answer: a lot of beautiful, fascinating, sometimes bizarre creatures that are simply part of life here. And no, they're not all waiting to eat you.

Thailand and Cambodia are not backdrops, they are alive. And that includes wildlife that is not locked away in a zoo, but is a natural part of everyday life. Monkeys that consider temples their personal living rooms. Geckos that stick to the wall at night without comment, as if they were poorly paid actors. Water buffaloes that look more stoic than any German civil servant on a Monday morning.

At first, you get scared. Of course. When you hear something rustling at night that sounds bigger than a hamster with self-confidence. But at some point, your perception changes. ‘Oh God!’ becomes ‘Oh, it's you again.’

You learn to distinguish: dangerous is rare, unfamiliar is almost everything. Most animals want exactly what I want – to be left in peace. And if you give them that peace, you get something in return that you hardly ever find in Europe anymore: genuine wonder.

You sit on the terrace in the morning with your coffee, still slightly creased from jet lag, and watch a gecko relish killing a mosquito. A free service. Or you drive through the countryside, past rice fields, and a water buffalo looks at you as if to say, ‘You're here as a visitor. I'm not.’

And yes, sometimes you flinch. But much more often you smile.

Because you realise that fear often arises from ignorance. Amazement from closeness.

Elephants belong to Thailand and Cambodia like dust belongs to red laterite roads. They are there – present, majestic, silent. And that is precisely why it feels wrong to me to sit on a plastic chair on their necks while they walk in circles like living carousels. For me, travelling does not mean consuming. Travelling means understanding. And sometimes it also means doing without.

When I encounter elephants, it is only in protected areas, in real sanctuaries. Places where they are allowed to be elephants – slow, headstrong, sometimes surprisingly playful. No shows, no riding, no ‘smile for the camera’. Instead, muddy skin, scars from previous lives and that deep, calm breathing that you feel rather than hear.

I often just stand there. Camera down. Heart up. And I think to myself: maybe this is the moment when travelling becomes right.

These protected areas are not glossy paradises. They are honest. You hear stories of exploitation, of chains, of circuses and forestry work. It hurts – and that's exactly how it should be. Because compassion does not come from looking away, but from looking closely. And yes, sometimes from a lump in your throat.

Of course, these visits are not perfect. Money flows here too, and there are grey areas here too. But the difference is noticeable: the elephants set the pace. Not the tourists' schedule. And if one of them doesn't feel like being close today, then that's just the way it is. Period.

Perhaps that is the biggest lesson I take away from Thailand and Cambodia:

Not everything you can see should be touched. Not every experience needs a ticket. And not every photo has to be taken.

Elephants in the sanctuary are not an item on the agenda. They are an encounter. Quiet. Dignified. And a small counterbalance to all the madness that we humans otherwise cause – when travelling and beyond.

Money is one of those topics that travellers tend to avoid – until you find yourself sitting somewhere between a street food stall, temple gate and tuk-tuk and realise that your mango sticky rice moment is being ruined by a lack of cash. Thailand and Cambodia are wonderfully straightforward in this respect – if you know how the rabbit (or gecko) runs.

In Thailand, you can easily get by with Visa and Mastercard in cities, hotels, larger restaurants and shopping centres. Contactless payment? It's been commonplace in Bangkok and Chiang Mai for a long time. But as soon as you head into the countryside – roadside food stalls, night markets, longtail boats or the massage that will change your life – cash is king. And the king wants to see baht.

Cambodia is similar, but with a slight twist: here, the US dollar is almost as ubiquitous as the Khmer riel. Payments are often made in a mixture of currencies, with change given back in riel. Credit cards work in hotels, better restaurants and with tour operators – but at the market, on the bus or with local guides, it's good old cash that counts.

There are plenty of cash machines in both countries, mainly in cities and tourist spots. However, there are usually fees for each withdrawal – a silent souvenir that no one ordered. So it's better to plan for larger amounts and keep an eye on your account balance. Deposits for rental cars or accommodation are also not uncommon – a little financial leeway is very reassuring.

My personal travel tip:

I always carry two credit cards with me – not out of mistrust, but out of experience. Cards can be blocked, ATMs tend to malfunction in tropical heat, and Murphy's Law always travels with you. If you check your bank's terms and conditions in advance and don't put all your eggs in one basket, you'll travel more relaxed – and can concentrate on what really matters: encounters, adventures, little detours and that quiet feeling of happiness when you realise you're in exactly the right place.

And if nothing works out: smiling helps. Almost always. Übersetzt mit www.DeepL.com/Translator (kostenlose Version)