The section of lake we entered into looked more like a muddy river. We walked down a massive flight of wooden stairs and across the dusty, dried out lake bottom to get to our passenger boat. During the monsoon season, the lake swells to six times its size.
This is a floating basketball court. Hopefully, some of the villagers have a consistent game going with more intensity than the dunk contest I saw earlier...
The covered wooden boat held Sami and me and about eight or 10 international passengers. We heard Chinese, German, and an indecipherable language. Since our Cambodian tour guide used English exclusively, he spent most of the time chatting with us. He offered us an Angkor beer which, even warm, I couldn't pass up.
I was only halfway through my hot beer when the driver cut the motor and let us out and into a makeshift museum floating among scattered homes. As we exited single file, the driver's young son stood on the bow and implored "wanyourhehplee" (watch your head please). He said this a dozen or so times, once to each passenger, and another dozen times when we got back in. In all we either left or came back to the boat eight times, and each time he was a little more confident with his English.
The museum was straight out of the Bates Motel with an Apocalypse Now vibe. There were fascinating images detailing the floating village and the everyday lives of its villagers, as well as the importance of Tonle Sap's ecosystem to the people of Cambodia. Some of the pictures and wood carvings of cranes and crocs creeped me out. I wouldn't want to spend a night alone in that place. I left with a shudder and the now familiar "wanyourhehplee."
Next, we stopped off at a large floating souvenir shop that tripled as a restaurant and crocodile farm. We were starting to attempt to manage our money a little better (earlier in the day, Sami had vetoed my idea of purchasing a bootlegged copy of Mad Men Season 3 for $15. I am still bitter) so we did not buy anything. Also, the crocodiles didn't look as menacing down in their watery, wooden homes. Back in the boat. "Wanyourhehplee."
Our final destination was a two level, floating restaurant out in the heart of the lake. We could not see the shore in any direction. The water lost its green/brown color in the setting sun. If you would have dropped me down from the sky and told me I was in the middle of the ocean, I would have believed it.
Most of our party hustled to the top deck of the boat. We went up and looked around, but there weren't any seats left. Luckily, downstairs on the back end of the boat, slightly raised from the main floor were two low-lying hammocks. Our tour guide offered us a complimentary drink menu and I ordered a Jim Beam. This was my first taste of whiskey in six months and it was delightful. My ears warmed immediately and it reminded me of being back in college where we used to drink an ounce shot of Jim Beam chased in a jigger with Dr. Pepper (and now that I think back on it, I can't believe we drank that much soda. Gross). I had three more Jim Beams and was feeling comfortably numb.
At one point Sami looked at me and said "we are in the middle of a lake in Cambodia." It was surreal. That moment, I felt as peaceful and content as I have ever been in my life. At that moment, on Lake Tonle Sap at sunset, I learned a lesson I will never forget. Soak in the moment. From now on, all of my future traveling will be done with the intention of recapturing that feeling.
I sloppily devoured my dinner of sweet and sour fish like a drunk person. Too soon, it was time to leave. "Wanyourhehplee."
We left in the darkness, batted mosquitos and looked up at every star in the galaxy. Tomorrow we visit Angkor Wat.
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