Abby and I left Angkor in the morning, headed for a small town called Battambang via boat. We headed to the dock in a pick up truck that was more crowded with “Barang” (foreigners in Cambodian) than was really necessary. Just when we thought they couldn’t cram one more person in, they did, throwing their heavy backpacks over our interlocked legs. That was the first indication of what the day was going like. We were in the hands of a sadistic, cheap tourist company hell bent on cutting corners and taking those damn Barang for everything they’re worth.

We boarded a boat by the dock, and had a very similar experience to the taxi ride there. More and more tourists kept pouring in to the bottom of the boat, and when that was jam packed, they directed more tourists to the slighty rounded roof of the boat where there were no chairs, no railings, and no shade from the relentlessly hot sun. Two Russian guys took stock of the situation, grabbed their bags and took off.

So sit right there, and you’ll hear a tale, a tale of a fateful trip. That started from this tropic port, aboard this tiny ship… 

The ride was supposed to take 3-4 hours across a large lake and partially through a winding river to the town. Not 20 minutes into the trip, the motor stopped. The crew headed back, tinkering with the engine, extracting random parts, jumping in the water to look at the rudder, and trying the motor again. This went on for a good 45 minutes. Then we were off! For another 20 minutes before the motor died again. And again. And again. And again.

Then… THEN! the boat started to fill with water. Woo-hoo! We were hours into our trip, no land in sight, with god knows what lurking in the water. Abby and I began to think of action plans, the quickest way out of the boat, and started to come to terms with the fact that our big backpacks might be forever lost. Gilligan and the gang started bailing out the water with small cups. Due to the courage of this fearless crew, we stayed afloat. However, terror started to turn to a burning rage. The boat ride had been expensive by Cambodian standards. But far be it from me to be the Ugly American that starts screaming and yelling, demanding my money back and a helicopter rescue. So I kept my cool.

Let me pause for a second to say that the views from the boat were absolutely spectacular. Almost worth the hellish boat ride. People actually lived out on this lake in small little towns an hour or two apart in houses much like the wooden, thatched ones in the countryside, but that were floating on the water. Stores, schools, and medical facilities floated amongst the houses, and people paddled by on longtail boats. There are a lot of pictures of this that I uploaded here to the site.

By 3pm, after 8 long hours in the boat, I started to lose my cool. I, not so quietly, began to say things like, “This is riDICulous. Ít’s been EIGHT HOURS! This is so f$%#ed up.” And so on and so forth. However, shortly thereafter, 9 hours after we set off for our “three hour tour, our three hour tour”, we arrived at Battambang.

Everytime you get off a boat here in SE Asia, at least all the boats we’ve been on, it’s a harrowing experience. This was no exception. Typically, you must duck, heavy backback and all, below the roof of the boat and step oh so carefully onto a rickety wooden plank placed precariously between the boat and the shore, or better, to another boat, and then another plank from that boat to shore. You must balance not just yourself, but all your earthly belongings, while walking the plank to safety over filthy port water. On this particular exit, Abby grabbed onto a railing to help herself up steep stairs to the land. Stupidly, Abby assumed that the railing was attached to something. Silly Abby. Abby almost went tumbling down to the water below, but quickly regained her balance, despite the fearless crew of the Minnow having a long, loud laugh at her flailings.

That was just about the last straw for us. We busted through the hundreds of pushy tuk-tuk drivers and motorbike drivers and walked to our hotel. We ran into several of the other passengers later, Matt from Australia who we ended up traveling with for a few days, and an Icelandic couple we seem to be trailing, who all agreed that we were surprised at ourselves and at others for failing to pipe up and complain.

Ah well, t’is a good story, if nothing else.