We
had set our alarm to make sure we were up on time but at 6:30 a loud
bash on the door was accompanied by Qui shouting time to get up.
Where Trung had been all politeness and smiles, Qui is definitely
more gruff and basic. He is probably used to countless numbers of
people oversleeping and causing mayhem for him. We were chased again
at 7:15, presumably because we had not put in a show for breakfast.
Downstairs most people were already sitting around waiting to
go. I think the tour group was split here as it was yesterday
because Qui kept talking about the people going to Cambodia, a
smaller section of the overall group. Why people would have sat for
a couple of hours on a bus to get to Chau Doc to only go back is
beyond me but there is no accounting for folk! Our bags were loaded
onto a cyclo which disappeared off down to the river. No explanation
was given about what was happening or where our bags were going,
another example of Qui’s less than great guiding skills.
Eventually we were off too and we caught up with our bags on
the river front. We then went down a steep set of steps to the
water’s edge to be confronted with the sight I had expected
yesterday. There was one big boat with an engine onto which we put
our main packs. Around it, about ten small fishing boats were all
queued up waiting, with us their obvious intended cargo. These boats
were small, wobbly contraptions guided by small but wiry women with
oars. I am wary in little boats like these and knew that I had a
couple of uneasy hours ahead of me. It wobbled and rocked as I got
in, and this was with the benefit of being able to hold on to the
bigger boat for balance.
Our oarswoman did her best to chat away to us but with us
speaking no Vietnamese and her English limited to “me number 1” they
were short conversations. She jabbered away endlessly with all the
other women on the other boats all of whom seemed to get a bit
irritated by her continual chat. We set off onto the river with me
nervously expecting us to capsize at any moment, daft really because
the people here hop on and off these boats all day with big heavy
loads and they are fine.
We were rowed out to a little fish farm which gave me the
first taste of what was to come today – getting in and out of these
little boats at small pontoons with nothing to hold onto to
stabilise yourself in the process – aaaggghhh! Stef had done his
usual and turned around in the boat to take a photo along the way
creating a big wobble and getting shouts from me of “stop it” and
“stay still”. The next big wobble was getting out onto the pontoon
while trying to dodge the piles of dog poo at the same time.
The fish farms were similar in construction to those in Halong
Bay in the north of Vietnam. They were floating houses with open
central “courtyards” and nets underneath to keep the fish in. Here
the water is about six metres deep at this time of year and they
have about six thousand (it could have been six hundred thousand but
I can’t remember) fish in each farm. They are fed fish meal which
the farmers make themselves, a very smelly process. The meal is
worked into pellets which are then fed to the fish. I am not sure if
the people here get any financial benefit from having groups of
people tromping around their farms, there was certainly no evidence
of cash changing hands. All the fish farms seemed to have
electricity and TV aerials were again a common part of the skyline.
The river acted as an open sewer as well as a source of water.
Friendly Mekong people
We were soon back on the boats and on to our next stop, a
small village with a Moslem mosque. The fishing boats carrying the
tourists were all fighting each other to get to the quay. It was
again as if we were back in Halong Bay although the boats here were
on a much smaller scale. This is where the rowers got their tip and
a young Finnish couple massively over tipped by giving fifty
thousand dong for the half hour ride, probably more than the woman
was paid for the ride. She was jumping up and down waving the money
around, and other women who had generous tips soon followed suit. We
both felt that all they did with these tips was to create an
expectation from future groups leading to tourist driven inflation.
Ah well.
It was another wobbly hop onto dry land and really just
another retail opportunity. There was a small workshop with one lady
weaving and I am sure she starts and stops as the tour groups
arrive. In front of her there is a small shop where you can buy
textiles. Steps lead up to a concrete path which links the house up
to the main road. There I was surprised to see a tarmac road with
traffic whizzing up and down. From the water it looks like a small
quiet village that would have a dirt track road and no more.
Off to the right is a small very clean mosque painted white
and blue. It seemed totally at odds compared to the poor ramshackle
houses around it. Our oarswoman followed us up and onto the road
pointing out where the mosque was, we think in an attempt to try and
boost her tip. Inside, the mosque was very simple with no
ornamentation, presumably so as not to deflect from the important
business of prayer. Prayer mats were laid out on the floor but
folded over.
Going back to the boat we stopped to watch some of the local
kids playing volleyball in a court under the concrete walkway. A
couple of Aussie girls from the boats had joined in. I had expected
that we would be bundled back into the little fishing boats but we
were sent off with a different man to a bigger boat. He kept saying
there was not enough room in the boat for everyone but we had no
real idea what he was talking about. We were taken across the river
where we had to step off the front of our boat and climb in through
the window of a larger boat, a sort of small river cruiser. My
“boat” nerves were well and truly fraying by this stage.
The cruiser soon set off and the process began of sorting our
visas for Cambodia. The chap on the last boat had taken our
passports but was now nowhere to be seen. Stef rightly got concerned
but we were reassured that all would be OK and that our passports
would turn up at the border. We filled out our visa applications,
handed over cash and then spent the next three hours cruising along
the Mekong watching the world go by. I was glad we had ended up on
this boat where you could at least move about if you wanted to. Kids
along the river bank shouted and waved hello as we went and it was a
relaxing experience.
We finally made it to the Vietnam border and the boat pulled
up at the riverbank. There was no pontoon or jetty to get off onto
just a jump to shore and then a short but steep climb up to the path
above. There was still no sign of our passports and we were told to
leave our main packs on the boat while we went off for lunch. We
finally pieced together that we had ended up on the boat from a
different group, who had lunch on board the boat, because our boat
was too full. There were no guides in sight telling us what was
happening and what to do, we simply had someone from one of the
cafes by the border telling us to come for lunch.
We were both wary of what was happening and fully expected the
boat with our bags to start to set sail with our bags still on
board. We headed back closer by so we could at least try to hop on
board if it did start to move. Next we were told that we needed to
get our big bags off the boat. Armies of small kids appeared with
their hands going everywhere. Stef wandered off to do I don’t know
what and totally ignored me when I was trying to talk to him about
how to get our bags off. This combined with the kids was making me
lose my cool, not the thing to do in Asia!
In the end a couple of the kids hoisted our bags up the slope
for us. They were pretty strong and our bags must have weighed
almost as much as them! We finally got our passports back, went
through the Vietnamese border and into no-man’s land. Here we had to
get onto a different boat to continue up to Cambodia. This last boat
was meant to be an express ferry up the river but there wasn’t much
“express” about it. At the Cambodian border we had to get off again,
this time there was a proper landing stage which was the first and
only one of the day. The boat tried to leave without a Finnish
couple who for some reason took about twice as long as everyone else
to go through passport control.
We then had another couple of hours meandering up river. The
guide had changed again to one from Sinh café’s Cambodian
counterpart. He was quite entertaining and was on hand to change
currency which was useful. By this time though my patience was
wearing thin. We were meant to have reached our hotel in Phnom Penh
by 3:00pm but this time came and went and we were still on the
water. Eventually we got to where the boat stopped and we did our
last “walking the plank” impression of the day and transferred into
a bus. By this time I regretted that we hadn’t paid extra to get a
boat all the way to Phnom Penh because I suspect that that was the
express option.
We were both hot, tired, sticky, thirsty and irritable by the
time we got on the bus. It was a small one and there was only just
enough room for everyone and their bags. The road was pretty awful
with lots of bumps and holes along the way. There are signs of
improvements underway but it looks like it will be a long and slow
process. I think it was about another ninety minutes before we made
it to Phnom Penh. Along the way we passed through lots of small
villages like many we have already seen in South East Asia, very
poor looking bamboo shacks raised up on stilts.
Heading into Cambodia, aided by eager little porters
In Phnom Penh we were dropped at the Capitol Café, the Sinh
café counterpart. We had been given the expected sales pitch on the
bus about where to stay together with the “you stay here, very safe,
can walk around at night OK with no problem” patter. The local tour
companies obviously read Lonely Planet as much as the foreigners as
they had picked up on the LP warning that some parts of town are
dodgy at night. The place where the bus stopped was manically busy.
It was next door to a market and the streets were solid with traffic
and people and lots of western tourists were all over the place.
We had decided that we wanted to stay somewhere a little
quieter and a bit more comfortable than we had for the last two
nights. We got a tuk tuk down to the Star Royal Hotel on the river
which seemed a little soulless on the outside but was comfortable on
the inside. Stef did his usual scout of the rooms which are large
and clean and will do very nicely.
Long, cool showers left us both feeling refreshed and we
headed out to eat at the Ponlok Restaurant. It was recommended to us
by the hotel but as we walked in and saw familiar faces from the
boat ride we realised it was also in Lonely Planet. The food was OK
but not great. One dish we ordered was a shrimp salad and they came
on the plate, raw, with lots of ice and salady bits. Needless to say
we didn’t eat them!
