Cambodia: An Island Retreat Part II

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A hard platform bed with a rock of a pillow in a hot airless room made for a sleepless night. Heavy rain fell on the tin roof without any cooling effect and the drumming drowned the annoying noise of confused roosters and the repetitive calling between cows and calves. Spread eagled under the mosquito net I languished until dawn then walked the short distance to the shore and into the sea.

We were back on the boat to the mainland before eight that morning which was a surprise to me. Anticipating a relaxing day on the island, I was unprepared for the fact that this was to be a quick taste of not just one, but two beauty spots. The return driver was obviously in a hurry to make it back to Phnom Penh before the end of third day festivities, launching the passengers at the back of the bus as he made no attempt to avoid the potholes.. Lunch was be taken at the waterfall with a chance to bathe in the river for those so inclined. Being in the final days of the six month long dry season, there was no waterfall and just a small trickle of a stream, so crowded with Khmer both paddling and washing themselves with copious amounts of soap, the water had the appearance of soup. We had made a pilgrimage to the Ganges of Cambodia, an interesting excursion in itself but hardly a place of beauty.

My tendency to wander off alone disturbed them. The Asian culture is happy to move as one group, doing everything together following the whim of the dominant male. Showing them the subjects I preferred to be photographing helped in their acceptance of my frequent escapes but still it took a while before the sheepdog was spared the chore of herding me back into the fold.

Finally the bus did breakdown. One jolt too many and some line or other was severed but being innovative if not trained mechanics, we eventually set off.... without any sign of aircon at all. Not a problem. With the windows open wide we, the occupants of the bus bacame almost as vulnerable as those passing alongside, to the tradition of drenching any and all with water followed by a dusting of talc or powdered paints. By the time we exited the bus, everyone of us smelled like a freshly washed 'Johnson Baby'.

I couldn't have been more relieved to be back in PP. My decision to join the group for the holiday rather than spend it in splendid isolation had not been an easy one to make. Content with the opportunity to celebrate with the locals, I was happier still to collapse on my bed in my aircon room above the pub, ice cold Angkor beer in one hand and TV remote in the other! It was time to be around people I could understand, fictitious though they were via electronic media.

Time to tune out, turn off and make up for long lost sleep.

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