THE FRENCHMAN’S CODPIECE AND AN EXTRA GLAND

Day 28, April 18th

OOUUCCHH!!!!!!!

All of last night was spent peeling the sheets off of my aloe vera sticky sunburned skin and trying to find a position in bed that wasn't completely excruciating. Thankfully, I switched to my own room last night and was able to deal with the pain without keeping the kids awake.  Huge mistake yesterday not putting on ANY sunscreen.  That philosophy of getting a good first sunburn to start off a tan is a load of crap.  Even a cold shower hurts.  I feel sick.  I want to throw up.  My head is pounding.  I want to pass out.  This sucks.

Part of the armada.

Today is suppose to be a relaxing and enjoyable day.  It isn't likely with this sunburn, but at least most of it will be spent in the water and I will have on a rash shirt and a hat.  Today we are going on a snorkeling tour.

We are up early and down to the beach.  We get a free breakfast with the snorkeling tour and a free breakfast means, small and not very good.  This breakfast is just French bread and coffee.  I hope this isn't an omen of things to come.

Our tour only has 8 people.  Two couples.  One single guy.  Me and the kids.  Then there is the "captain" and "1st mate."  They are basically kids that know how to drive the boat and cook the food when we get to the island.

We leave the beach at 8:30 and as we head to the first snorkeling spot, I notice five other boats heading in the same direction.  It is one giant snorkeling armada.  Obviously, there will be no isolated moments and unique experiences on this tour. 

Covered like a 3-year-old.

We get to the first snorkeling spot and we all start getting ready to hop in the water.  Among the two couples, one is a Frenchman in board shorts and his Khmer "girlfriend."  Nothing odd or uncomfortable about that.  We have seen that many times.  BUT, all of a sudden she wraps him up in a towel and he does some Houdini magic trick like a girl taking off her bra without taking off her shirt and emerges from the towel in a tight nut-hugger!!  I mean, this is a codpiece the size that would make a superhero blush.  Now she's lathering the sunscreen on him.  When I say she is thorough, I mean THOROUGH.  She's putting sunblock in places the sun will never get to without some strategically placed mirrors and a well executed downward dog.  This is so intimate, I feel like I need a soft cuddle now.

The 1st mate brings out a box of snorkels and masks, no fins.  This is already suspect.  I grab one and give it a go.  I am stoked that I get to finally use my underwater camera.  Dad and I hop in the water.  He takes off.  I'm trying to put everything on.  I think I have it.  I'm off.  This feels good.  The water is cold.  Just floating around.  Slowly swi…crap.  My mask is leaking.  I can't stop it or seal it.  I need a new one.  By the time I look back at the boat and head back in that direction, everyone else is already in the boat and done snorkeling.  Huh?  Even dad is done.  He isn't enjoying it.  I try a few other masks.  They don't work.  I toss my camera in the boat, climb back in and try to find a mask that works.  Even the captain is getting nervous because he can tell I am frustrated.  I think I finally have a good mask, strap it on, hop in the water and start snork…..it breaks.  Worthless.  I throw it back in the boat.  I am pissed.  Everyone can tell.  Especially our guides.

Trying out ANOTHER mask.

I climb back in the boat and head back to where the kids are and where our seats ar….SMACK!!!  A shooting pain fills my head and my eyes start to water.  I look up and there is a cross board that I didn't duck under enough.  Everyone in the boat goes silent.  A few quietly ask if I am OK.  I am more angry about the snorkeling than I am the cut on my head.  I turn to dad and ask if I am bleeding.  He says not really, and then the blood begins to pool on my head.  So I sit there with a towel pressed to my bleeding, sunburned head.

Everyone is done snorkeling and we all just sit silently in the boat.  We look around at the other five boats in the armada.  They are all empty because everyone is in the water having a great time.  We picked the wrong tour.

Finally, we raise anchor and head to the second snorkeling spot. 

This isn't a snorkeling spot.  It's an island.  They just slide up on shore and park the boat for most of the tour.  We have the option to snorkel, lay on the beach or explore the island.  Snorkeling here really isn't an option since the water is waist deep.  Typical tour.

We hang out at the main beach for a bit and eat lunch.  After we explore the island for about an hour, we load up and head to the third snorkeling spot.

The island.

Again, all five boats head out in the same direction, at the same time and park at the same spot. Again, everyone on the other tours jump in the water.  Our boat…..parked right on top of jellyfish. Not, just one or two. We see more than fifteen jellyfish. Not small jellyfish. These are the size of basketballs or bigger. This is ridiculous. Everyone asks the tour guides to take us to another place. These kids aren't having it. Their job is to drive the boat and park it in specific places on a specific timeline and then return to the main beach.  They aren't into customer service.  They are too young.

For once, Patton is chill.  It is what it is.  I am even more pissed than before.  I really want to get in that water, but I have no desire to dodge jellyfish.  Mom has some nervous energy.  She feels for these kids cause she can tell there is about to be a mutiny.

Finally, everyone says screw it and we head back to the main beach early.

The chefs.

What a crappy tour this turned out to be.  Horrible breakfast.  Crappy snorkeling equipment.  A huge cut across my head.  Jellyfish infested water.  And now the Frenchman is sprawled out, laid back, legs spread and getting a tan with his bits and pieces outlined in his man-panties and looking right at me.  As crappy as this day was, I'm trying not to laugh cause mom is trying to discretely, but not so discretely, take pictures with the Frenchman's…umm…French bread and manties.  I need to get off of this boat.

When we got back to the hotel, the kids' room is being cleaned so they come up to my room to hang out.  We haven't been in there long and there is a knock at the door.  I open it to find the hotel manager, the head of house keeping and security all standing there holding a towel.  The manager tells me that there are light blue stains on the towel, the towel was found in my room, therefore I must be responsible for the stains and will be charged $8.  Huh?  Are you serious?  Yes, he is very serious.  They all are.  We are informed that we will be charged for ALL stains.

Bleeding finally stops.

This feels like a scam.  I am irritated, mom is livid and dad is chill.  Mom heads out of the room to talk to the manager and gives him the what for.  Unfortunately, to no avail.  He informs us that we can wash it ourselves or pay to have it washed.  Either way, we are responsible.  Mom inquires about how they know I caused the stains.  The manager says because the cleaning lady found my damp towel laid out across the couch and that is where the blue stain came from. The couch is brown and orange.  This is a very poorly executed scam. 

Once they all leave, I go through the sheets and towels and find a few small stains.  Stains that I don't care about, but stains they will likely charge me for.  So, I go down to the front desk to speak to the manager and show him the stains so we won't be charged for them.  He won't even look at me.  He sends one of the girls up to look at the stains.  On the way up, I explain the situation to her cause she wasn't there for the initial confrontation.  She informs me that she is Cambodian but from America and understands my frustration.

Close up of the manties. 

Wide shot.

By the time we get up to my room, the head of house keeping and security are waiting for us.  These stains apparently need a thorough going over.  They all discuss and argue for a while.  I again explain the situation about the towel and the stains to the girl and I can tell she is embarrassed.  I said, "We are spending $240 at your hotel and you are charging us $8 for a blue stain on a white towel that came from an orange and brown couch."  She said, "I know."  I told her that if people are treated this way they will tell others and this hotel will end up losing thousands of dollars just to get $8 back.  She said, "I know."  I asked her if the owners of the hotel cared.  She said, "Nope."  The owners have apparently scared all of the employees and forced them to handle the situations this way.  Of course, the owners are out of the country during all of this.   

She explains the reason for the strict rules on stains is because, with the hotel only being a couple of months old, they have already had thousands of problems with westerners bringing their Khmer "girlfriends" to the rooms and getting stains everywhere.  WAIT A MINUTE!!  Was I just politely accused of having untidy dalliances with local hookers??  The girl just shrugs her shoulders.  And I don't have an anatomy degree or any type of research to back this up, but unless Khmer girls have an extra gland that produces a blue secretion, I would assume the stain a hooker and her drunk John can produce would be the same stain that a married couple from the west would produce.  This is beyond stupid.

The girl is really cool and said to bring the cleaned towel to her and not to worry about any of the stains.  Good enough for me.  I am in too much pain to care any longer.

Another aloe vera bath and this day is done.

Gonna have a scarly yours,

NOT A John

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THE BOATMEN

Day 22, April 12^th

Today is a travel day, but not the usual travel day.  We are taking a boat from Siem Reap to Battambang with the purpose of getting from one place to the next as well as see the floating villages.  This was Patton’s discovery.

Local transportation.

We are up early and downstairs right on time at 5:45am.  The bus is late as usual.  At least we get to have breakfast.  The bus arrives and there is room for three people and five people to pick up.  Typical.  Atypical, they leave the extra two and pick up only mom, dad and I.  We are shocked.  We take off.  Only a few blocks away we stop.  This is our rest stop/food break.  Typical.  I’m sure it is relatives again.  Apparently, the boat will not have food available for purchase.  I don’t believe that.  A few people load up on food and we are off.  We pass by our hotel again, go a few more blocks and stop.  Another pick up.  Despite being full, we are picking up three more people.  Two of them are the original two from our hotel.  Disorganized.  This is more like it.  Twelve people and only seats for nine.  This is becoming very common in Cambodia, worse than any of the other countries we have been in. 

Another pick up.

We get to the boat and it is an open-air boat.  Hardwood seats.  No leaning back.  Upright the whole time.  The description of the trip is 6 ½ to 9 hours, or more.  Again, this was Patton’s idea.  Off we go and it is a little less than interesting,.  The canal we are in is pretty barren and the engine is deafening.  We break out of the canal and into Tonle Sap lake.  The lake is huge, but it can’t be deep.  There are sticks standing straight up across the lake with colored flags tide to them to mark directions.  A few fishermen on the lake, other than that, nothing.  We eventually get to the other side of the lake and enter into another canal, the canal that leads to Battambang.

Weaving through the canal is slow going, but nice.  People live on floating houses and any kind of wake created by boats causes the houses to start rocking.  On top of that, the boat is just like the busses.  We are constantly picking up and dropping off people.  This is their transit system within the canals and on the lake.

A stark contrast.

This is likely the only way we could have seen true river life.  It really is amazing.  Score one for Patton. 

One interesting observation about river life is the level of poverty contrasted by the opulence of their temples.  In some areas where people’s houses are half way in the river or their walkways or walls seem to be made out of the most weathered of sticks, they have these grand temples.  Big.  Beautiful.  Sturdy.  Painted.  Extremely ornate.  A complete contrast to their living conditions. 

The river restaurant.

I knew it!!  There was no way that rest stop/food stop this morning was the only opportunity to buy food and drinks.  We stop at a river restaurant.  This guy was expecting us.  Family or friend as usual.  The crew of the boat eat free.

The bathroom is weird.  Four walls and no floor, just places to put your feet on the sides.  It’s just going to the bathroom in the river.  Mom and dad pass on the food and just get some drinks.  I see one drink that I have to have.  No idea what it was at first, doesn’t matter.  Black Panther.  There is no way you can not try that.  Upon a further look see, Black Panther Beer.  A must.  Cause 60% of the time, it tastes great every time.  That plus some rice with ‘sauce’, and it is a fantastic river meal.

60% of the time...

Now the trip is just dragging on.  Even Patton is ready to get off.  It seems like we are on an endless series of drop offs.  Weaving back and forth across the river from bank to bank letting people off.  No docks.  Just get as close to land as possible and hope they can make it.  We are beyond the 6 ½ to 9-hour range.  We are in the ‘or more’ range now.  This is described as the most enchanting boat ride in all of Cambodia.  I would hate to be stuck on the second most enchanting boat ride.  Plus, there is an ominous cloud forming overhead.  I hear thunder.  I think I saw some lightening.  It’s only getting worse.  I hope we get to the hotel before the downpour.

After 11 hours on this boat, we finally get to the dock in Battambang, and by dock I mean an area where several men try to yank you off of the moving boat on to a cement step before you fall in the river.  There is no dock.

Advertising knows no boundaries.

Before we left in Siem Reap, mom was handed a brochure for a hotel and it jives with the description in the book.  I don’t feel like sweating a place to stay right now, so we are going straight there.  As we pull up to the ‘dock’, the shore is covered with tuk-tuk drivers yelling and shouting, pushing and jostling.

One kid catches my eye.  He has a salty set of whiskers and the energy to match.  Yelling.  Elbowing.  Plus, he is holding a sign that says free ride to the hotel we are going to.  I point at him.  Eye contact.  Head nod.  The deal is set and he springs into action, pushing his way through to get to mom, dad and I.  He grabs our bags and off we go.  He seems like a great kid.

We get there, check out the room, looks good, settle in.  I chat with our tuk-tuk driver, Dara, and we make arrangements for him to be our personal driver for all of the next day.  I don’t know if it is common for the tuk-tuk drivers to do this, but Dara gives free rides to foreigners arriving on the boats or busses to their hotels in the hopes of securing much more business from them for the duration of their stay.  It worked.

We head down to the local market and get some food for dinner and we are done for the day.  Rice.  Fruit.  Chicken.  ‘Sauce’.  Shower.  Masks.  Sleep.

Disenchantingly yours,

Kevin Fantana

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