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Published: September 2nd 2008
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The hill is steep and muddy. There is no other way to tackle it, slide, steady, slide, rebalance, slide and onto the thin plank of wood leading to the boat. My feet become lighter as I stride carefully across the bowing wood, mud disembarking from the soles of my sandals with each step.
Being a big bloke in Asia has many more negatives than positives. According to the locals, I’m ‘King Kong’ size and things here just ain’t built to accommodate ‘King Kong’. Seats are smaller and doorways are shorter. The bungalow we’ve been staying in shakes nervously on its stilts when I roll over in bed. Hann’s been having nightmares about our bed falling through the floor, 3 metres down to the ground below. My movements have since been restricted! The Khmer people seem to associate being big with being wealthy, meaning I receive extra attention from the beggars, tuk tuk drivers and street vendors. On the positive side, they think my ‘King Kong’ size means I have ‘King Kong’ strength. Hann thinks it quite funny that people are always touching me, “Sir you very strong”, as my biceps are squeezed. Beggars often grab me by the wrist and
just walk with me a while, having a chat and pleading their case for a dollar or two. If they don’t accept my offer of a free meal, I can walk away with minimal ‘Western guilt’. The deformities of some of the beggars still shock me. Many have limbs missing and some have been disfigured horribly in acid attacks. One guy I spoke with had both of his hands removed by the Khmer Rouge, using the sharp base of a species of palm tree that grows here.
I make it successfully across the plank of wood leading to the boat, shifting my balance in the process to accommodate the luggage I’m carrying. The boat is almost full as Hann and I wrestle for a seat. Colourfully dressed women walk along the sides of the old boat with plates of food delicately balanced on their heads. They peer in at us removing the plates to display the many foreign delicacies. We politely decline. Safe packaged food is the order of the day for a 6 hour ferry ride with one stinky toilet. More and more people board the boat bound for Battambang in Cambodia’s North West. I’d read about this
journey back in Melbourne. It was described as one of the World’s most scenic boat trips. Bags and people are now piling onto the roof as the boat tips from side to side, feet dangling down from the roof. Military dressed officials glare at us with disdain from a nearby pier. I’m sure they’re going to spring into action at any moment to stop the boat from being overloaded. They don’t. They puff away on their cigarettes as the boat sinks deeper into the water.
The boat engine coughs and splatters as it grinds over for the first time. Thick smoke permeates the clear blue sky and the lungs of those onboard this floating safety hazard. We reverse slowly and begin to tip rapidly to the right, passengers aghast and clinging onto anything solid around them. Commotion rages amongst the boat driver and his assistant, who quickly heads to the roof. After rearranging the balance of people on the boat, we slowly begin reversing again. I wonder where my backpack is. I handed it to some guy on the roof half an hour ago. Are people sitting on it? Or worse still, is it precariously balanced and destined to
end up in the drink? That bottle of Pastis I bought in Siem Reap is in my backpack! I could be responsible for turning part of Cambodia’s Great Lake into an aperitif!
Each time the boat slightly alters direction; it sways and struggles to maintain balance. When we turn suddenly, people scream and look in horror as the water comes within millimetres of pouring in, the boat seemingly defying physics to straighten up again. It reminds of how I felt the first time I rode on a rollercoaster as a kid - scared shitless, but loving every second of it! Both Hann and I are strong swimmers, we have travel insurance and what a great story it would be if we capsize………. The scenery is stunning. We pass through dense jungle reaching out of the water, snakes sliding gracefully across the surface and people going about their daily chores in the many floating villages scattered along the way. The sun becomes harsh and the seats harder. After seven gruelling hours, we arrive in Battambang.
THE END.
Our blog has fallen behind. If anyone is actually following our little adventure, we will be updating it over the
next few days. We can’t possibly write about everything we do and see. So there will be places and things missing, but we’re going to keep writing something or posting photos every 3-5 days. Hope you’re all well xo
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