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The boat to Phnom Pehn, the capital of Cambodia was due to leave at 6:30 am, so I woke up at 4:45. I never seem to be on holiday when I'm traveling! I met my driver at 5:30, and we drove out to the lake. By this time my bottom was quite sore from all the bumpy roads that we had driven along, including this one. The bike did have a suspension, but it wasn't designed to carry two men and a lot of baggage. The predawn light revealed hundreds of other people hustling and bustling around. Tourists were heading off to see the sunrise, motos were zipping too and fro and children were leading their cows to graze in the clumps of grass beside the road. Everyone seemed to have something to do despite the early hour, then suddenly, we were out of the town and to the left and right were only rice fields as far as the eye could see, broken only by the occasional palm tree.
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| A young man relaxes on the pump of the village from which the ferry to Phnom Penh departs. |
The rice fields became wetter and wetter, and we reached the lake. It was hard to tell exactly where the rice fields ended and the lake began, but the road had been constructed to run out into the lake to enable boats to dock. At the end of this road was a village of houses on stilts. There was even a floating school. People were going about their business as if the lake were an extension of the land. Small boats replaced cars, and where the lake became to deep for the stilt houses there were houseboats moored. The presence of a big white metal and plastic ferry made the whole place feel like an anachronism. The surreal quality to the village was that despite all the wooden shacks and boats, everyone was dressed in what I would consider to be 'normal clothes': T-shirts, pants, skirts, shirts and dresses.
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| Dwellers of the Tonle Sap lake and river wake up in their boats, and go about their business. |
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After a brief walk around the village, I boarded the boat and pretty soon, with a blare of sirens, we were off. I went up on deck and looked at the Boat People we passed. Then we reached the lake, and there was little to see. The water began to get choppy, so I went into the main cabin, sat down, wrote my diary and grabbed an hour's sleep (cat-napping is one of the most important skills a traveler can acquire). When I woke we had left the lake and were back on the river, the banks of which were dotted with stilt-houses. People waved to us as we passed, and despite the strength of the sun (I was already pretty burned) I went out on deck again to take pictures. It was a fantastic boat ride, and I recommend it to anyone who has to get from Siem Reap to Phnom Penh.
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| Schoolchildren on their way to school take a moment to wave to the passing tourists. |
When we arrived at Phnom Penh, we were greeted by a crowd of vocal transportation drivers who offered to convey us to the guesthouse of their choice. Having hooked up with a French guy and his Korean girlfriend (what are the odds?) we already knew where we were going. It was impossible to communicate though because every single tourist was surrounded by at least five Cambodians all extolling the wonderful virtues of their transportation and their guesthouse. We eventually got transportation to the Last Home Guesthouse, an establishment that, while narrow at the entrance, stretched all the way to the next block.
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| An army of pushy taxi, tuk-tuk, moto and cyclo drivers fight for the arriving tourist dollar. Even short trips can be expensive to the ignorant. |
Having been in the boat for about five hours, I felt it was time to go for a walk and get a feel for the city. The place was buzzing. Everywhere I looked there was activity. Small motorcycles seemed to be the favoured mode of transport, often with four or five people on it. I was nominally trying to get to the Royal Palace, but I wasn't too concerned with the possibility of missing it. Miss it I did, and I ended up going to my second choice of destination, which was the National Museum.
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| A typical family vehicle in a city where two-wheeled transportation outnumbers the four-wheeled variety by a ratio of at least ten to one. |
One of the most ubiquitous sights in Cambodia is that of a saffron-robed Buddhist monk. No-where is this more true than at the tourist attractions. They get free entry and hang around waiting to practice their English with the visitors. This is good for them and great for the tourists, including me. I had a wonderful time chilling with the monks in the garden of the National Museum, which was one of the most peaceful places I had ever been. After an exhausting few days on the back of a motorcycle and running around temples, this was a perfect break of almost spiritual relaxation.
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| Three monks pose at the National Museum. Although saffron (centre) is the predominant colour, there is some latitude for personal preference. |
I was sorry to leave the museum, but it was closing. I wandered back along the waterfront to find something to eat. The bank of the Mekong was full of people relaxing, reading papers and playing a curious game involving a group kicking around an item a little like a badminton shuttle-cock. Judging purely by their clothes, many walks of life were present; affluent businessmen, monks, families, students and beggars. I found myself ill-equipped to deal with beggars. What can you say to a child who asks you to buy her some water on a scorching-hot day?
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| As the evening draws in, families and friends head down to the river-front to hang out. |
I went to sleep that night on a full stomach, which I couldn't help but feel a little guilty about. Eating a delicious pizza is never very pleasant when two kids are begging for table scraps at the next restaurant. When I finished I bought a couple of bread rolls for them, but their numbers had grown to three and they fought over what I gave them.