A flying visit to Pursat

4 /4 = Back to the bakery for some pastries and on a moto to the bus station. It is more organised than I expected. Some good characters get on to fill the bus too, so along the way, as more people are picked up, plastic chairs are put in the aisle to sit on. Now it is definitely full. “You wouldn’t get this back in the Nanny State.” Said the impressed grumpy old man. The journey is interesting, as I get to see more of Cambodia. We pulled over at some services, not quite like the British motorway services, in fact nothing like them at all. People pull out the sticky rice, smoked fish or whatever they have packed. I bought a mango, complete with packet of salt, sugar and chilli. It is growing on me. The driver peeps his horn and we all pile back on. The chairs are put back in the aisle and 2 minutes later we are in Pursat, my destination. The chairs are all moved again and an embarrassed Gil gets off. I got my bags off and a moto driver pulled up, but we couldn’t understand each other. I tried some other people, but no joy, so I pulled my bag into the shade and sat on it for a look around and a ponder. I was just about ready to checkout the Guesthouse over the road, when another moto pulled up and he knew the guesthouse I was looking for. He dropped me off and booked me for a trip to the floating village tomorrow. The hotel looks the part for 7 dollars. While I went to get the key a little Cambodian lady whisked my bag up to the 1st floor. The bag was as big as her.
After 40 winks, I went off to discover Pursat. I thought it was a 1 horse town, but wandering down the road proves me wrong. There’s a good market and plenty of shops, definitely not 1 horse. The locals don’t return my smile so readily, but I am the only westerner I have seen so far. I made my way out of town and low and behold I found a bar, a tea bar. There are a few blokes in here, eyes glued to the TV. I fancied a brew, so in I went. It was like in a Western when a stranger walks into a bar and all eyes follow him. I think they realised I was deadly, so left me alone. The lady said “Coffee??” I said “Tea.” She pulled up a seat for me and bless me, if there isn’t a 2nd telly with a Masters golf preview on. The blokes were all watching a kick boxing film, so I had the golf to myself, for a couple of minutes anyway, then some lads came in and put the rodeo riding one. WHAT IS THAT ALL ABOUT GRANDAD!!.
I got my pot of tea and a glass of ice. It’s the done thing, so first you are drinking iced tea and eventually hot tea. It is refreshing and good. I sat for quite a while feeling like one of the lads, then they all got up and left. Scared of the new gunslinger in town????? No, it was closing time, 16:00. I buckled up my holster and left. The people are a lot more smiley away from the market, or word has got out that I am a friendly gunslinger. I reckon it is the later, because loads of lasses giggle at me and shout Hello. Then I realise, I have buckled up my holster, but not my zip. Joke. I think my walk puts a lot of people off. Probably all the Cambodians who have seen me think all Westerners walk like this.
A few old fellows ask me if I want a moto, but judging by the way they laugh with their mates when I decline, I think they were just trying their luck. I ended up back at the bus stop, so checked out a few prices. They are all around 6 dollars, so I decided to wait, I didn’t want to give a plan a chance to be changed. I set off back in the direction of the hotel, I hope. There was some kids playing football on a sandy bank, by the river, so I spectated for a while. I found some gardens to watch from and they are still there, kicking holes in each other. The mozzies are on their way, so I am off to get sprayed.
Never made it, a lad came up to practice English, so we had a lesson while picking up a few mozzy bites.
After being fed and watered, I went to blog a bit. There were only me and the 2 lads running the place in there when in walked 6 young lasses tarted up and giddy. Well at first glance they were. The 2nd glance told me otherwise. They gave me some camp looks of surprise, strutted their stuff and left as 6 young tarted up giddy lads. The place was shutting after the ladyboy onslaught, well, it is 21:00, so I logged off and hit the sack.


5 / 4 = The moto driver Yeat, pronounced Yet, picked me up at 8:00 to go the floating village, Kompong Luong. It is about an hour away and Yeat’s Korean moto isn’t as comfy as Mony’s Honda. He doesn’t speak a lot of English, but a lot more than my Khmer. The price per hour for a boat at the suppy village was a bit steep. Yeat, got it brought down. We boarded gingerly, well, I did. This river is manky at the best, I didn’t want to go in. It probably gets better in the wet season, but doesn’t look or smell the best at the moment. The floating village moves about 7Km as the lake recedes during the dry season. The floating village is visible from the shore and the boatman sets off at very sedate pace. Once on the lake, Tonel Sap the water is just a muddy brown, instead of a stinking, dark, grey. It is covered by a layer of green algae over a lot of it. As with a lot of landbased villages, the church spire is the most prominent feature from afar. I wasn’t sure what to expect. As we approach it looks like a grid town, with 4 or 5 main channels running parallel and lots of side streets/channels. The LP says the village is not as friendly as normal, as there are a lot of Vietnamese here, who have been given a hard time, but nearly everyone is smiles. The kids run to the edges of their boats and wave and shout Hello. Yeat told me the village is 50/50 Vietnamese/Cambodian. Seeing as both sides are not supposed to get along there is a very friendly village atmosphere. I should have tried to organise a night here, but I couldn’t get a stop for a coke organised, so I don’t know what I would have ended up doing.
After puttering up and down the channels, it is just like any land village, but on water. There’s grocers, TV repair boat, butcher boat, fishmongers, at the outer edge, there are 3 petrol station boats and just like on land, the grocers sell Johnnie Walker bottles of bootleg petrol. There are also mobile shops rowing between houses and if any house wants something from them, they just yell and over they paddle. There are loads of fruit and veg mobiles, a baguette lady, fish lady, perrywinkle kids, a water delivery boat, even a lady in a canoe selling CD’s and DVD’s. There are cafes, that I couldn’t get to stop at. A Buddist temple. Lots of motor repair places. Boat not car motors I guess. 2 schools, one for the posh kids with desks and chairs and one for us snotty nosed kids with benches packed solid. Later school must be over as the school boat, not painted yellow, comes passed and the kids wave and shout. There are pet dogs on the boats. I even saw a floating pig sty in the supply village. No wonder the water is manky. I can’t get over how friendly everyone is. It would have been a great experience to have stayed here, but the water is used for everything. The pots are washed over the side of the boats after scooping the algae away, the washing is done, people wash in it using scooped out bowls of water to throw over themselves. I watched one mechanic overhauling an engine and he just dumped the oil over the side of the boat. It must not be too bad. There are barrel loads of fish at the several fishmongers and corals are full of some floating vegetable.
Loads of the boats have TV aerials, so I could have watched the match. They must use generators or batteries. There is a floating mobile phone shop too, but I didn’t see any floating McD. They are not everywhere after all. There is even a village tramp. She paddles around in her canoe checking out the rubbish. This seems a great community and very smiley and there is no hassle from the Tuk tuk (not toot toot in Cambodia, I have discovered) drivers. Everyone jumps in their canoes and paddles to the shops, church or neighbours. It has been a good outing, but I am starting to frazzle as the sun gets hotter, so we are off back. Yeat tries to get me to go to some local hills, but I didn’t fancy it on his moto, so after a drink we set off back.
I had 40 winks. I put it down to the red hot sun. Any excuse. I woke to the sound of thunder and the start of a storm, the heaviest I have seen. It lashed down big time, so I had a read and did a bit of housework, I sewed up my cutoffs pocket. The TV stations went off, then the electricity. It soon heats up without the fan, but then the generator kicked in.
After the rain eased, I headed into town for my bus ticket. Easier said than done, when nobody speaks English and all my Khmer is aw kohn, thank you. They didn’t sell tickets to Thank You. I was about to give up when Yeat showed up. He told me he is a police man, but I reckon he works at this bus stop place. He said he’d pick me up 8:20 in the morning. I was going to walk the 500m , but for 12p, what the hell. I went for another sit in the gardens and another English lesson, then grabbed a butty at a roadside café. I don’t know what it was, but she made it fresh and it was tasty. They didn’t sell tea though. Strange!! It is football night again, but everywhere here is closed by 21:00, so I grabbed a beer to take back, fixed the TV after the storm, bad connection and watched some football.