In Siem Reap, a villager spreads her catch of fish out to dry. (Susan Hegger/P-D)04/01/2007
By Susan C. Hegger
ST. LOUIS POST-DISPATCH (Missouri, USA)
SIEM REAP, CAMBODIA — Most of the roughly 750,000 tourists who visit Siem Reap a year are interested — quite rightly — in one thing and one thing only: Angkor Wat. This monumental temple complex, truly one of the wonders of the world, attracts more people every year. The tourism boom is reflected in an attractive new airport, a frantic building of gigantic luxury hotels along the airport road and the growing traffic.
One of the weird sidelights of this growth is the increase of cars with steering wheels on the right, as in England and Japan. We were a little disconcerted on the drive from the airport to the hotel when our driver was seated on the "passenger side." The hotel rep explained that Cambodians previously had been forbidden to import cars from Thailand, where they drive British style on the left-hand side of the road. That restriction has now been lifted. Can't wait to see what happens with the accident rate.
In any case, if it weren't for Angkor Wat, Siem Reap would surely still be a sleepy Cambodian town. But that doesn't mean that there's nothing beyond Angkor worth exploring.
One of the most remarkable rides I've ever taken was a boat ride on Tonle Sap, one of the biggest freshwater lakes in Asia. During the monsoon season, from June through October, the Tonle Sap River, which connects the lake with the Mekong River, literally reverses direction and inundates the lake, increasing its size fivefold, according to some estimates.
The fishing there is what sustains many local Cambodians who live — and work — in floating villages. Homes and stores float in neighborhood clusters. As the lake shrinks during the dry season, families tow their homes and businesses to where the fishing is still good.
Our first stop was a floating school where the kids regaled us with songs. They seemed genuinely enthusiastic about our visit; we couldn't help be touched by their open faces and sweet smiles. And we couldn't fail to notice little details like the white uniform shirts turned a dull gray by repeated washings in the lake.
The boat ride had the quality of a dreamscape. We saw old, rickety fishing boats (with an engine) towing the homestead to deeper waters; a floating church (about the only church we saw at all); a huge pig in a pen nestled among the mangroves.
When we stopped in one of the most open parts of the lake, we were surrounded by small, buzzing motorboats — eager to sell us cold bottled water, soda or beer. The commotion attracted some children, who couldn't have been older than 6 or 7; they sailed the lake in individual wash tubs and they paddled over to beg for money. "Kids learn to swim when they learn to walk," said our guide Kea.
Our last stop was a crocodile farm cum floating tourist shop. We ogled the crocodiles, swimming in underwater pens, before ogling the sarongs, the scarves, the purses, the blouses.
One little girl thought she'd get our attention — and maybe a tip — by wrapping a snake around her neck. Somehow she didn't seem to understand why no one would get near her.
shegger@post-dispatch.com | 314-340-8348
One of the weird sidelights of this growth is the increase of cars with steering wheels on the right, as in England and Japan. We were a little disconcerted on the drive from the airport to the hotel when our driver was seated on the "passenger side." The hotel rep explained that Cambodians previously had been forbidden to import cars from Thailand, where they drive British style on the left-hand side of the road. That restriction has now been lifted. Can't wait to see what happens with the accident rate.
In any case, if it weren't for Angkor Wat, Siem Reap would surely still be a sleepy Cambodian town. But that doesn't mean that there's nothing beyond Angkor worth exploring.
One of the most remarkable rides I've ever taken was a boat ride on Tonle Sap, one of the biggest freshwater lakes in Asia. During the monsoon season, from June through October, the Tonle Sap River, which connects the lake with the Mekong River, literally reverses direction and inundates the lake, increasing its size fivefold, according to some estimates.
The fishing there is what sustains many local Cambodians who live — and work — in floating villages. Homes and stores float in neighborhood clusters. As the lake shrinks during the dry season, families tow their homes and businesses to where the fishing is still good.
Our first stop was a floating school where the kids regaled us with songs. They seemed genuinely enthusiastic about our visit; we couldn't help be touched by their open faces and sweet smiles. And we couldn't fail to notice little details like the white uniform shirts turned a dull gray by repeated washings in the lake.
The boat ride had the quality of a dreamscape. We saw old, rickety fishing boats (with an engine) towing the homestead to deeper waters; a floating church (about the only church we saw at all); a huge pig in a pen nestled among the mangroves.
When we stopped in one of the most open parts of the lake, we were surrounded by small, buzzing motorboats — eager to sell us cold bottled water, soda or beer. The commotion attracted some children, who couldn't have been older than 6 or 7; they sailed the lake in individual wash tubs and they paddled over to beg for money. "Kids learn to swim when they learn to walk," said our guide Kea.
Our last stop was a crocodile farm cum floating tourist shop. We ogled the crocodiles, swimming in underwater pens, before ogling the sarongs, the scarves, the purses, the blouses.
One little girl thought she'd get our attention — and maybe a tip — by wrapping a snake around her neck. Somehow she didn't seem to understand why no one would get near her.
shegger@post-dispatch.com | 314-340-8348
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