I jump on board. The wood creaks beneath the soles of my sandals and the boat rocks back and forth to the beat of the waves. The captain extends out to me, while his meager crew of two scurries to undo the brown fraying ropes that are keeping us ashore. I grab hold of his hard calloused hand, duck underneath the rotting ceiling and step inside.
The seats of the boat are covered in vivid fabrics of blues, greens, pinks and yellows; some are intricately designed with exotic patterns, while others are solid, bright and vivid in colour. Everyone in my group is seated, as I make my way past them towards the empty row of seats at the back of the boat. I sit down and smile at the children who are lined along the shore watching us intently. They wave at me, I wave back and splash cloudy green water at them, they look at one another, hide their faces and laugh.
The captain’s bare feet putter past me as he runs through pools of water along the deck and towards the back of the boat. He takes his place, adjusts his stained white baseball cap, and hovers over top the steering wheel before he slowly makes us move. The motor sputters out grayish water, as he maneuvers our boat out into the open air. My legs begin to bounce and my seat starts to vibrate as we make our way past the shore line and set sail for the floating villages of Siem Reap.
Our boat lunges forward and we pick up speed. I stare off into the distance, transfixed by the hard working locals who live on these foreign waters. They look happy and content I notice, as I try my best to peer inside their floating houses that sit securely above the water. Suddenly my thoughts are interrupted by a crew member in pale blue jeans walking along the outskirts of the boat holding steadily to the rickety ceiling.
An unsuspecting wave creeps up along side us and showers me with murky water. I wipe the droplets from my brow on the back of my hand and smile widely as a young boy on a make shift bamboo boat floats by. He’s all alone and I wonder how long it took him to paddle so far out. His long brown oar extends far beyond his head as he waves at me shouting happily as we speed by.
I watch as tourists in passing boats congregate together; huddling over top of their guide books, pointing off into the far off distance or shielding their eyes from the last bit of sunlight that’s beating in down on them. I gulp back a mouthful of fresh sea air, hold back strands of hair that are flying widely across my face, and melt into the moment. I feel like I have entered onto to pages of National Geographic and I don’t want it to end.
The seats of the boat are covered in vivid fabrics of blues, greens, pinks and yellows; some are intricately designed with exotic patterns, while others are solid, bright and vivid in colour. Everyone in my group is seated, as I make my way past them towards the empty row of seats at the back of the boat. I sit down and smile at the children who are lined along the shore watching us intently. They wave at me, I wave back and splash cloudy green water at them, they look at one another, hide their faces and laugh.
The captain’s bare feet putter past me as he runs through pools of water along the deck and towards the back of the boat. He takes his place, adjusts his stained white baseball cap, and hovers over top the steering wheel before he slowly makes us move. The motor sputters out grayish water, as he maneuvers our boat out into the open air. My legs begin to bounce and my seat starts to vibrate as we make our way past the shore line and set sail for the floating villages of Siem Reap.
Our boat lunges forward and we pick up speed. I stare off into the distance, transfixed by the hard working locals who live on these foreign waters. They look happy and content I notice, as I try my best to peer inside their floating houses that sit securely above the water. Suddenly my thoughts are interrupted by a crew member in pale blue jeans walking along the outskirts of the boat holding steadily to the rickety ceiling.
An unsuspecting wave creeps up along side us and showers me with murky water. I wipe the droplets from my brow on the back of my hand and smile widely as a young boy on a make shift bamboo boat floats by. He’s all alone and I wonder how long it took him to paddle so far out. His long brown oar extends far beyond his head as he waves at me shouting happily as we speed by.
I watch as tourists in passing boats congregate together; huddling over top of their guide books, pointing off into the far off distance or shielding their eyes from the last bit of sunlight that’s beating in down on them. I gulp back a mouthful of fresh sea air, hold back strands of hair that are flying widely across my face, and melt into the moment. I feel like I have entered onto to pages of National Geographic and I don’t want it to end.
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