Crabby in Kratie

As I sickly sleep away the afternoon, Nick attempts to organize our trip out to see the Irrawaddy river dolphins in a little town called Kratie (Krat-CHEH). First its downstairs to buy our bus tickets from reception. The receptionist assures Nick it will be a "VIP" bus, complete with a toilet. Nick taps the picture on the little yellow bus ticket and asks again if our bus will match the one shown. "Yes, yes. Same, same."

Bus ticket obtained, Nick searches for a guesthouse. Apparently none of the guesthouses take advantage of online booking so after an hour or so of scouring, Nick sacrifices the two bucks for a Skype call. Two hostels are full. I wake up as he's calling the third, which happens to be the one with the best TripAdvisor reports.

"Hello, it's nice to finally get a hold of someone. When will you have a room available?"

"I don't know. Probably tomorrow night."

"We tried booking online but that wasn't possible. Can I reserve a room over the phone please?"

"I prefer not to take reservations over the phone because people flake out."

"My wife and I are 31 years old. We've already bought our bus tickets. We're responsible people and we can assure you we'll show up. Are you sure you can't make an exception, please?"

"I really prefer not to. There are other places to stay."

Helpful guy. If you ever get a chance to stay at "The Balcony" in Kratie, don't. We will just have to search for a place when we get there. But first we have a bus ride.

We wake up at 4:30am to pack our bags. We're facing an "eight hour" bus trip from Siem Reap to Kratie. We are to be picked up from our hotel at 5:30. Reception calls us at 5:15, "You check out today?"

"Yep."

Another call at 5:28. "Can you hurry up? The bus is waiting for you."

"Yep." We hurry to the "bus station" (parking lot) where we find that "the bus" (mini van) waiting for us is already packed full of people.

Nick and I squeeze into the last two available seats. I'm in the back row with a full-grown family of three from the states and Nick is directly in front of me in the slanted seat that folds out to fill the aisle. Our bags and the hatch-style trunk is secured by bungee, leaving the trunk open about eight inches. It seems we're ready to leave. The trunk is full, the 12 seats (including the driver's seat) are already crammed with 17 people. The Americans next to me are extremely worried about the safety of the van holding this many people, and at one point try to provoke a "mutiny." Another person boards our bus. Eighteen people, yet we continue to wait.


It appears we're finally ready to leave. The driver pulls out of the driveway and onto the street. And stops. We wait.

Nick, asks the driver if we're waiting for more people, and how long before we switch to the bus in the little yellow picture. "One more person" they tell him, and "2.5 hours." We continue to wait.

At 7am, our "6 o'clock" bus is ready to go after three people who kept us waiting (employees of the bus company) finally pile in. Four in the front seat including the driver. Nine in the front row: four facing backward; five facing forward. Three in the second row, and four in the last row. Now you might be saying but Ty, 4 + 9 +3 +4 = 20. Where's the last person? The 21st passenger (the guy wearing a blue denim shirt pictured above) is standing on the rail at the back of the van. Yes, his body is outside, and he tucks his head inside with the luggage, his arms grabbing at bags and bungees to hold on. He stays this way for the duration of our minibus trip.

After more than four hours of speeding, narrowly missing cows, proper-sized buses, and motorbikes, and being stopped by cops at a road block, we pull up to a depot with a bus waiting. Yes! Nope, not ours. We're told to wait ten more minutes; our bus is coming. Ten more minutes turns into twenty more minutes, twice. In just under an hour we board our bus, and there are no seats. We stand until the next town, which we're told is only "ten minutes" away.


We do finally get seats, but our bliss doesn't last long. Our bus breaks down three times on what's supposed to be a 5 hour ride. The bus overheats, they kill the air-conditioner, we overheat, and then they pull over to fix the problem.

They go about fixing the bus with the aid of some tools: a discarded water bottle, a couple wrenches, and a stick that they appear to be whacking the engine with...

An hour later we're back on the road. Ten minutes after that, we pull over at our scheduled "lunch" stop.

Maintenance and organization are clear priorities for this bus company.

We arrive in Kratie around 5:30, three and a half hours later than intended. We are hungry and dirty. We strap on our front packs and backpacks and walk first to the infamous "Balcony Guesthouse." Surprise, "all full."

We walk the river front, where some hotel employees shout the above two words from their doorways saving us a trip to the door. We finally find an overpriced riverfront room, but we're beat and it will do.

By this point Nick is on a good one. He's ranting about the bus company and the owner of the Balcony Guesthouse. He's vowing to write negative TripAdvisor reports for both companies and to contact our hotel in Siem Reap to advise them against selling those bus tickets. First, though, he wants a shower. And a toilet.

From the other room I listen to him. "Why is there no towel rack? Where do they expect you to put a towel? Why are there wires hanging out of the bathroom wall!?" The final straw...

While rinsing the conditioner out of his hair he notices the worst design flaw in the bathroom. The toilet will have to wait.
















He then can't help but notice how our river front view is obstructed by Alcatraz-style bars.

"I feel like I'm in prison!!!"

I told you he was on a good one.







I encourage him to take a different perspective. The view's really nice when you move much, much closer to the window.

He "reserves the right to be in a bad mood," and proceeds with emailing our previous hotel and the owner of the Balcony Guesthouse. At 7:30 Nick finishes the letters and we are starving. I close the door to our room and realize I have forgotten to push down the button on the door nob to lock it. I am not surprised to find that although not locked, the door will not open. Two hotel workers and another stick later, it's open. In order to "check the door," I head inside with one hotel worker, and Nick stays outside the room with the other. The door gets closed again, and stuck again. Minutes later we're freed from the room and it's clear to all that a new door nob is in order. Nick's mini-tantrum boils on.

After a good night's sleep the previous day's frustrations have softened enough to joke about them as we walk around the dirty, dirty, streets of Kratie.

Notice the kid on the motorbike. This is the typical riding style for the little ones. BTW, Cambodia has officially broken our most-people-on-a-bike record. Five!





Helping out the big boys. I don't think this little guy owns a Playstation 3.










There is rubbish everywhere. The food stalls on the riverfront toss their garbage over the wall to the riverbank below. Why are the dolphins endangered?
















Launching point to go see some Irrawaddy dolphins (not to be confused with the dolphin / kangaroo hybrid in Corey Klier's twisted imagination - the Dolpharoo).









Cambodia's Mekong River is one of the best places in the world to see these unique freshwater Irrawaddy dolphins. Unfortunately their numbers have dwindled from thousands to only 75 in the past decades. An alarming number of calves have been found dead for inexplicable reasons (could it be the pollution?).

They are elusive little buggers and have learned to stay away from the boats, following years of being hunted. When we're lucky enough to be near them, it's not for long. They don't pose for pictures.


Despite being shy here, this species has proven to be quite intelligent and helpful:

In a section of Myanmar’s Irrawaddy River, the dolphins are known to fish cooperatively with humans, herding fish schools toward the fishermen where they are easily caught in cast nets. The practice benefits the fishermen—increasing the size of their catches up to threefold—as well as the dolphins, which fill their own stomachs on the cornered fish and those that fall out of the fishing nets.
-www.wcs.org

















Irrawaddy dolphins look nothing like Flipper. They have virtually no "beak" or snout, and a tiny dorsal fin. The folks at http://marinebio.org/species.asp?id=341 captured a great face shot.


Our videos:





We return to the hotel and opt to explore Kratie by bicycle.


























































"A pretty province spanning the Mekong...Kratie is a lively riverside town with a rich legacy of French-era architecture...a thriving travel hub." -You guessed it, Lonely Planet. Man, we love these guys.






































With it's empty streets Kratie looks like a giant, filthy Monopoly board, complete with waterworks, department of tourism (wanna buy a hotel?), and a post office.






















This school reminds us of another former school, the Toul Sleng prison in Phnom Penh. Class is in session now. This must be what Toul Sleng looked like before being converted by the Khmer Rouge.
























The beauty salon and the "hand in your weapons" people use the same artist.


























Kratie encompasses old and new. Horse-drawn carts, bicycles, motorbikes, cars and trucks all share the road.























We now sit in our windowless room in Phnom Penh, listening to the pitter-patter of tiny rat feet in the ceiling above our bed. Our goal here is to save some money for our trip to Nepal in a few days. We are looking forward to the exercise that Nepal has in store, but are dreading the freezing temperatures after seven months of extreme heat. Most exciting is the chance to learn about entirely new cultures and customs.

We'll miss you Cambodia.

Love,

Us