Holiday in Cambodia: Day 4, Siem Reap to Battambang
Today, for better and worse, was what travelling is all about. Real travel, the stuff the stories get told about, where not everything goes as expected but everything turns out okay in the end.
The boat. There are two ways to get to Battambang from Siem Reap, either by road or by water. Most people travel by road: bus, taxi, scooter, whatever. It takes a few hours and if you pick right you get airconditioned comfort. By road is fast, and cheap. Otherwise there’s the boat. When you google boat Siem Reap Battambang you’re soon waist deep in travel blogs talking about how “interesting” the boat ride is, and how they’d never do it again. The boat is slower (average time 9 hours), more expensive (US25), and definitely not airconditioned. Do the google thing, and you’ll find everyone talking about the different fates that can befall the passenger on this trip: whipped by branches, covered in spiders, propellers tangled…
And it’s all true. Fortunately, it’s the wet season now, so there’s a decent amount of water in the lake and the prospect of running aground and having to finish the last 30km on the back of a ute is off the cards.
The day kicked off feeling a little slow in the head from not sleeping wonderfully, and possibly the mojitos, as I’ve barely had more than the occasional beer this trip and I did notice that one of the pours at the X bar was quite generous. But I was packed and checked out by just after 7am ready for my pickup.
My pickup came. Not a tuk-tuk, just a woman and a scooter. Just being observational, I haven’t seen any women drivers on this trip — it seems that here it’s all men driving the motos and cars and tuk-tuks. I’ve seen women zooming through the traffic on scooters, with friends and families and all manner of bags and boxes and containers on the back and the front, but none driving tourists around. And that’s a shame, because my driver today took one look at the big westerner, with his backpack, two bags of water and boat snacks, and day pack, and knew exactly where all needed to go. I’m guessing, from observation again, she’d done bigger shopping trips. So it was a quick load and then off we went.
I’m getting better at being a scooter passenger, I no longer have to hang onto the driver and squeeze until they can’t breathe, and am mostly content to just rest my hands on the bar at the back of the seat. I’m not at the stage of using my mobile phone with total nonchalance, but will occasionally just put my hands in my lap. Speaking of phones, hands-free is something a bit different here: the driver answers their phone one handed and then jams it under their helmet to talk. Helmets? only for drivers I believe (that need hands free function).
So off we zoom. I’d love to be able to tell you how fast we went, but my backpack covered the speedometer. we were definitely overtaking many other scooters and tuk-tuks, and even cut through the tail of a funeral procession that saw a bit of traffic banking up (we weren’t the only scooter cutting through). I had by this stage put all of my faith into the god of shock absorbers as the roads were a little bouncy. The dock was maybe 10-20km from the hotel, which is a long way for an unpractised passenger, but we made it in good time and before I could tip my driver for keeping me alive she had me unloaded and zoomed off to wherever other foreigners need assistance.
I was the first one at the boat. I found out later, chatting to some fellow passengers, that we were quite a sight zooming through the traffic.
The boat. There used to be a joke, told by white Australians, back when Cambodians were being slaughtered by their millions, along the lines that Cambodians would get into any vessel that floats (totally missing the part that they are fleeing for their lives, but hey, in 40 years some things don’t change when it comes to parts of Australia). I was however reminded of this joke by looking at the various craft Cambodians use to navigate Lake Ton Le Sap, where if it floats and an engine (pretty much any engine) can be strapped to it, then you’ll find Cambodians using it.
Of course the irony of the last paragraph is that on the Siem Reap-Battambang boat, most of the passengers are white westerners paying $$$. So who is the joke really on, now?
Siem Reap to Battambang isn’t a nice straight path across the lake. The first half hour or so involves negotiating some narrow channels through the trees, and by narrow they are basically a boat width, minus the branches that come snapping in depositing leaves and bugs inside. Then there’s some nice gentle cruising on the lake, before some wider channels (possibly a river?) some more narrow channels (cue more bugs and leaves) before we cruise down a river to Battambang. Not fast, but pretty easy, right? The Cambodian version of a three hour tour?
About 45 minutes out, there is an almighty bang in the engine, followed by the sound of metal grinding to a halt, followed by smoke rising from the back of the boat. The passengers all look at each other, somewhat concerned, as by now we’re on the lake proper and land is a distant sight. The four locals who form the boat crew look at each other and shrug. The boat driver heads down to take a look, before deciding that the best course of action is to pour water on the part of the engine that is producing smoke, thereby making steam. For the next 30 minutes the passengers look at each other, possibly musing how quite the lake actually is, or of the way that we’re just drifting, while two crew take bits of the engine apart, hit other parts with hammers, do something with a hacksaw, wave spanners and screwdrivers around while kind of looking like they don’t know what they are used for, and call someone on a mobile phone possibly to get repair instructions?
After half an hour or so they tell us that another boat is coming, much to our relief. And eventually it does with a driver beer in one hand and cigarette in the other, thumping alongside where half of us take turns at holding the boats together while the other half shuffle over all the gear and luggage and eventually selves into the working boat. Once everyone and everything is transferred, off we go, with the old boat still alongside tied by a single rope bow-to-bow, where it frequently drifts away before coming back and crashing against the side. A tyre, conveniently hung from our boat, is then angled into place to at least absorb most of the blows.
The slow boat is also one way some of the floating villages get supplies, so we made a couple of stops, where we stopped while a boat came up to join us, either to unload new passengers or take away the sacks that the crew handed over. A lot of the reviews of this means of travel talk about it providing a glimpse into the lives of the floating villagers, and I guess it does that. We don’t get close enough to really see how they live, but there are glimpses of what life is like: there are schools and temples; and quite a few other boats carrying loads of dry wood, or mobile mini marts, or just zooming along for reasons unknown.
There was a lunch stop, (and another stop where we left our old boat) where the menu for us consisted of either chicken vegetables and rice, or pork vegetables and rice (the crew, who obviously come here often bringing hungry cashed up tourists, had some extra treats like ribs. I had the pork, it was solid. I was kind of disappointed as all the reviews said this place only served pineapple rice, and I really wanted some of that.
Then it was off again, back down some narrow channels while all the passengers tried to get as far away from the sides of the boat to at least minimise the risk of being whipped too often by branches. And some of the branches were over 1cm diameter, enough do give a decent whack when pulled back by the boat’s posts only to spring forward. Throw in the occasional spider or ant and we were definitely approaching Indiana Jones territory. Here’s the smart travel tip for future adventurers: pick the same side of the boat as the driver, as they tend to favour that side letting the other side take some extra branch action.
Our driver for this part of the trip seemed the youngest member of the crew, and was regularly advised by the others on what to do, so I’m not sure if he was the work experience kid or if they don’t let him drive much. Either way I was not particularly filled with confidence (the original skipper of this boat spent most of his time in a hammock at the back, occasionally wandering to the front to grab another beer and give the new kid more advice).
We’d barely cleared the narrows when the boat stopped again, but at least not with a big blast of smoke this time. Again the crew headed to the back of the boat to confer, before coming to the conclusion that the engine propellers had become tangled in river reeds, so with a member of the crew hopping into the river this was eventually remedied and we were off again.
The final part of the journey to Battambang is along a river at least 20 metres wide, so whipping branches are no longer an issue, only other boats, and fishing nets. These can be spotted by looking for a row of polystyrene bricks or plastic bottles spaced out along the surface, sometimes extending out across almost three quarters of the river.
After almost 8 hours in total, we headed once more for the shore, a patch where a big bunch of tuk-tuk drivers gathered with signs of various hotels in their hands. The boat had barely stopped before they were on board, charging down the aisle demanding to know where we were going and that they had to take us.
Most of the reviews of the boat trip sum it us as “a worthwhile experience not to be repeated”, which I personally think is bullshit. It was loud, unpredictable, a little pricey, and not fast, but having taken uncomfortable bus rides and third-class rail, I’d willingly do the boat again (though not straight away). It was a real travel experience, you totally get what you pay for, our lives weren’t ever in any real danger (other than maybe the hotel pickup), and for once the journey was actually part of the experience, not just a shuffling from A to B. And if you can’t handle that once in a while, what are you doing travelling?
Battambang, apparently it’s Cambodia’s second-largest city, but it doesn’t really feel like it, it feels smaller than Siem Reap. There don’t seem to be as many restaurants, or little mini-marts, or roadside food carts. There’s a big central market mostly full of general consumer items in one half, and jewellery the other. There’s a night market, but it’s very small. And the roads are no more dangerous to cross than Siem Reap.
Having been sitting for most of the day, I took a couple of hours to wander around, get a feel for the place, eat a bowl of chicken rice porridge (it was pretty good but I wasn’t hoping to get some of the doughnutty bread stick things to go with it but for some reason the Cambodians don’t call them doughnutty bread stick things). I also found a banh mi trolley that always has a queue, so have marked that for further checking out.