Cambodian Maritime Trouble: What We Hadn't Signed Up For

All the guidebooks about Cambodia rave about the boat trip from Siem Reap to Battambang, so Matt and I decided to give it a whirl. What we hadn't realized was that sometimes in dry season, the water levels are too low to complete the journey. Today was one of those days. We stopped at a village in the middle of nowhere and unloaded all of our bags. We weren’t anywhere remotely near Battambang. What then proceeded was the most uncomfortable travel experience I’ve ever had.

Throw out everything I’ve complained about relating to the quality of roads and comfort of transportation up until this point. We’ve hit a new low… and man was it low.

Our chariot that awaited us in the village was a lone Toyota truck. How many people do you think you could fit in the back of a pickup? Keep in mind that this had to include luggage as well. The correct answer, and I kid you not, was 23 people (26 including the three in the cabin). Once we fit everyone in the truck, on the truck, and around the truck, you were wedged in so much that movement of limbs was quite impossible. I had a Cambodian woman on my right that must have thought I was sprawling out, as she kept motioning for me to scoot over. If I had moved, it would have meant forcing someone overboard and flying into the jungle.

This is all to speak nothing of the condition of the roads. Being in the middle of B.F. Cambodia, there was little more infrastructure than haphazardly cleared paths leading us through the jungle. Let me clarify that it was the roads that were cleared. The route was laden with obstacles. Every few feet, we would get assaulted by thick branches and patches of brush. On passing over big bumps, it was only the tightly wedged formation of our bodies that kept us from flying off the back of the truck. It was also the peak of the day’s heat, in the midst of Cambodian summer.

To add a cherry on top, there was a box of dried fish wedged against my knees that gave off the worst stench you could ever imagine on a bumpy car trip. And it lasted hours.

Now that I've adequately complained about the truck rodeo, I should give credit to the boat trip. Although it prematurely came to an end, passing through floating villages where canoes outnumbered huts was pretty cool. Prospective passengers had to board the boat by paddling over from the docks of their water-borne dwellings and intercepting our course. Kids in tattered shirts waved jubilantly from homemade piers, clearly the only outside contact they would have the entire day. The boat wasn't the immaculate yacht pictured on our tickets, but it still made for a scenic journey through one of the world's most fertile freshwater fishing areas.