As Khmer kids in canoes do circles around my motorboat

There’s traveling, and then there’s traveling in style. How you define “style” is up to you, of course, but to get from Battambang, Cambodia up to the town of Siem Reap (ក្រុងសៀមរាប) Masayo and I decided to forgo a bus or taxi and take a rickety old boat up the river. It wasn’t luxury; it was better. It was traveling in style!

Battambang was nice but it was time to move on, and lucky for us the little Sangkae River runs right through the town and heads northeast towards the gigantic Tonlé Sap Lake (ទន្លេសាប), on whose north bank lies the great transport hub and gateway to Angkor Wat, Siem Reap. On the morning of Day 228 we checked out of the Bus Stop Guesthouse and walked to the river dock north of town. Scrambling down the hill toward the muddy river with the other passengers I finally got a chance to see with whom we would be spending the next few watery hours.

It was a mix of locals and other tourist like us – not in a hurry. The locals outnumbered us, which was fine with me. It felt like we were really going off the tourist trail and doing something cool. Most of Cambodia is like that anyway; this river trip especially so.

The boat was small, a low wooden craft with rows of two-person seats on board. A ladder led through a hole in the roof where passengers could lay on the flat wooden boards and get a better view of the riverbanks, temples, and shacks on stilts.

It was a great day on the river, warm but half-overcast, and the splashing of the water – just under eye level off the side, it seemed – kept it somewhat cool, as did the rushing air of the sputtering but steady motor. There was a definite air of unhurriedness to the journey. It suited all of us fine. And my insulin supply (which is actually running low – not sure what I’m going to do about that) remained cool enough in my bag out of the direct sun. Even without a cool pack for it.

The best part, of course, was the opportunity to glimpse local river life up close. Canoes were how people got around, and even little kids were piloting their ultrabasic vessels through the thick muddy waters with impressive mastery. Much of the riverbanks were devoid of any human touch, being just trees with big flat green leaves or reeds swaying in the currents. In some spots, though, were houses. Little more than wooden boxes high on stilts, they seemed extremely primitive, and they were – except I did notice a working television set in the open front door of one as we passed. And here I presumed they didn’t even have electricity. Shows my bias!

Halfway through our boat pulled over and docked at a small shop. Most of the passengers disembarked to get snacks or drinks, but we didn’t need anything so we stayed on. A dog got on and laid on the front deck, maybe appreciating having a new place to hang out for a few minutes. I bet he loves these daily visits from passing parties.

We continued on, waving to people paddling by us, listening to the splashing water and the lawnmower rattle of the motor, and absorbing the pale blue Cambodian sky and dull-white clouds. Suddenly the water became choked with plants – bright green leaves sticking a few inches out of the water stretching out in every direction. I could hardly see any path through it; it looked like we were getting bogged down helplessly.

But what could we say? Nothing to do except to shrug and assume the people piloting the boat cam this way often and knew what they were doing.

Of course, they did, and it turns out that the overgrown section was the final part of the Sangkae River for we all of a sudden entered into a huge, flat mirror of water: Tonlé Sap Lake. The lake was big but it isn’t always: it’s created by seasonal rains and in drier times it shrinks down to almost nothing.

On this day it was mesmerizing: the clouds were like gauze, barely letting through any blue, and the pearly haze was reflected in the waters of the lake. It was hard to tell where the water ended and the sky began on the horizon. Our boat just scooted through, as if being inexorably subsumed by a gigantic ball of moist cotton.

After crossing over our part of northwestern Tonlé Sap (which turned out to be a relatively tiny sliver of it, though you wouldn’t know it by sitting at water level in the boat) we pulled into a small side stream and got out: Siem Reap!

Actually, not quite yet. Masayo and I had a special treat in store for us. I’d booked a room at the modest Mandalay Inn & Villa. It was in our budget – ultra cheap – but did come with a perk unusual for us: free transportation from the boat dock.

We walked along the red muddy path with the others in the hot central Cambodian sun; I don’t know where the others were headed but we had a driver to liaise with.

And there he was: a tuk-tuk driver holding a sign with my name on it. How upper class! It was misspelled but who cares. We smiled and nodded and shook his hand, and the three of us climbed into his tuk-tuk and we drove off, leaving the low-class walkers to their own devices. More caviar, James!

After a short ride through the streets of Siem Reap we alighted at Mandalay and checked in. The room is small, there’s a refrigerator for my insulin, and now it’s time to not only explore Siem Reap a little, but to tackle one of Asia’s great attractions: the ancient Khmer temples of Angkor Wat.

What a great way to get from Battambang to Siem Reap! The Sangkae River was a fantastic voyage. So much fun for such little expense, and a valuable look at the lives of people who make their living on the edges of an especially characterful little Cambodian waterway.

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