After a ride in a minivan packed with 18 people, of which 11 were ang moh tourists, 2 locals in the bus and 1 local on the roof, the boat ride to Battambang was somewhat more sedate. We set off westwards from a very muddy jetty near Southeast Asia’s largest lake, the Tonle Sap. The rising sun behind us illuminated the way ahead.
Our boat was open-air and rickety but fortunately functional. Spray from the bow of the boat stung us when the water turned mildly choppy. Immersed in the view and in self-contemplation, no one onboard spoke. The silence was broken only by the splash of water and the continuous drone of the propeller engine.
The waters of the Tonle Sap were in an entirely unremarkable shade of brown. They reminded me of dilute milo. The brown was so uniform, it seemed that someone or something had poured all the milo mixture in the world into the lake. I did not taste any of the water though.
Once in a while, we moved through a local river village. Houses built on stilts flanked both sides of the river. The families that live in them seem to lead peaceful lives. They appear self-sufficient, rearing their own pigs and ducks in floating pens of their own design and catching fish and crabs with peculiar contraptions made of string and bamboo.
Children would laugh gaily and wave animatedly to us as we went by. They played and splashed around in the water, jumping naked into the refreshingly cool river waters to seek respite from the baking rays of the sun. They were even happier when we waved back. I was struck by how simple their lives seemed. Though they must have had their own set of concerns and worries, simple pleasures seemed to bring them so much joy. Development and technological advancement may be well and good. But does it bring people peace and contentment?
We reached Battambang, a charming and quaint town at 2.30pm, 7 hours after we set off. The boat ride had been largely monotonous. My butt ached.
And ache even more it would have to. For we made our way to Phnom Sampeau, a temple on a hill some 16 kilometres from the town of Battambang, after that. For the second time in my life, I rode on a motorbike.
A self taken shot. While riding a motorbike, no less. I’m getting better at them.
Like the first, I was without a helmet. Unlike the first, the road, or more accurately, dirt track, was treacherous and littered with huge potholes. The motorbike bucked wildly as it negotiated the innumerable obstacles. I held on tight. Every bump threatened my virility. But it was highly fun and quite of a hell of a ride.
Spectacular as the view from Phnom Sampeau was, I couldn’t help but feel that the place was tainted by its grim and tortured past. The caves set into the hillside were the site of Khmer Rouge executions. The caves that I ventured into had an aura of darkness and sadness to them. Not for the first time during this trip to Cambodia, I wondered about the imprint left on the nation’s psyche that the tragedies brought about by the Khmer Rouge had left behind. Behind the charming and friendly facade that is Cambodia lies a dark history that haunts its people.
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At dinner, we found out some uniquely Cambodian names.
Ice kacang = all fruit ice sugar milk
Chiku (the fruit) = Sapodilla
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Observations in Siam Reap about the economics of driving a tjuk-tuk
1. Fuel bought from the roadside costs USD 2 per 1.5 litres.
2. 1 litre of fuel gives a tuk-tuk at least 15km of mileage. (From our driver’s request that we fund an additional 1 litre of fuel for an additional trip that we requested)
3. We were charged USD 50 for exclusive use of a tuk-tuk for 4 days
4. In those 3 days, we travelled about 195 km.
5. From observation 2, 195 km requires 13 litres of fuel. Which would cost about USD 17/ (from observation 1)
6. So the driver received USD 33 in compensation (after accounting for fuel costs) for 3 days of work. We took up about 10 hours of his time per day. So the driver made an average of USD 1 per hour. And USD 50 was already a pretty high price to pay (from other observations)
7. It’s not an easy life, being a tuk-tuk driver.
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