Water Sports

23/11/08

Today being my last day in Sihanoukville we decided to go and spend some time at the Kbal Chhay Cascades. They are about 17kms outside of S’ville, so we hired a tuk-tuk to take us there. We made a party of five; myself, Chan Sras, her daughter Cristina, Chan Sras’ friend Narie, and I think Narie’s brother whose name escapes me right now. A price was agreed in advance for the tuk-tuk (12 dollars) and off we set. One or two stops were made on the way to pick up provisions.

I have included a picture of the market where we stopped to buy fruit, cans of soft drinks, beer and ice to keep it all chilled in a large bucket. If you look at the photo you will see a typical scene from all around Cambodia. Food is prepared and sold just metres away from rubbish strewn about the place. It was agreed that I would pay the tuk-tuk while Chan Sras and friends supplied the food, water and beer.

Before we left the town the tuk-tuk driver picked up two of his mates along the way. They obviously had nothing better to do and so came along for the craic. Off we went with the engine of the tuk-tuk straining to haul eight persons up the steep hill that leads out of Sihanoukville.

When we got there I saw only one other barang in the large crowd that swarmed about the cascades and raised picnic platforms. Naked children laughed and splashed about in the water. Shirtless men posed for photos while standing in the cascading waterfalls. For the women the style of swimwear was a bit more Victorian; fully dressed. I decided to leave my tee-shirt on as I didn’t fancy having all the Cambodians staring at my hairy arms and torso.

There is a succession of falls of varying height. We made our way up through them; the water was refreshingly cool for me and I relished the sensation of water pounding down on my head and shoulders. Better than any power shower I have ever experienced. When we reached a particularly narrow and deep stretch of water Chan Sras suggested we go back as she was afraid that snakes would be in the water. I had previously seen a black snake swimming in the river in Siem Reap, the thoughts of meeting one while standing up to my waist in water induced me to readily agree with her suggestion.

I had brought a change of clothes but didn’t bother using them. No one else saw any reason to get out of their wet clothes. Soaked through to the skin but drying out rapidly we piled into the tuk-tuk and headed back to town. I found the day’s activities to be a great way to spend my last day in Sihanoukville.

Last night a large open-air concert was held down by the beach. It was being televised and was sponsored by MTV. Its aim was to raise awareness of and to fight against human sex exploitation and trafficking. The place was crammed full of revellers hopping and bouncing about the place. A large stage had been set up with huge screens on either side of the performers so that those of us at the back could see more clearly what was going on. I grew bored quickly as it was your usual rap and hip-hop shite with sexy women prancing about and men shouting into microphones while clutching their testicles. I have no more to say on the subject.

While talking with Chan Sras yesterday I finally came to understand how the flat tyre on the motorbike scam works. Apparently she had tried to explain it to me the first night it happened but I hadn’t been listening properly. When I park my bike outside a bar there is usually a security guard there to watch over the bikes. If I tip him when I am going in, all will be well. If I don’t tip him he places something sharp between the grooves of the tyre. I am given a second chance to tip him when I come back out. If I tip him he claims that he thinks my tyre is going soft and examines it. With sleight of hand he will remove the sharp object and hey everyone’s happy. If I don’t tip, well we all know what happens, don’t we folks? That’s the situation; I either tip the security guard 2000 riel (50 cents) or pay five to seven dollars to have the inner tube replaced. There is a small cottage industry here, as I said in the last blog I posted, guys are sitting by the side of the road with new inner tubes should any hapless barang need one. What a country.

Yesterday morning as I picked at a really bad omelette I saw two monks across the road going about their business of collecting alms. Dressed in ochre robes, they carried large yellow umbrellas to protect their bald heads from the blazing sun. They stood outside each restaurant, bar, guesthouse or internet cafe; their begging bowls ready for all donations offered. A woman came out of one guesthouse and placed some food in their bowls; no eye contact was made. The woman then knelt on the ground before them, hands together in prayer she bowed three times. When finished she stood back up, turned about face and walked back into the guesthouse. The monks put the lids back on their bowls and walked on to the next establishment. Not a word had been exchanged between the monks and the woman. Not even a, ‘thanks for the grub missus’. All religions are pretty much the same around the world I guess.

Tomorrow I go back to Phnom Penh.