Bon Om Tuk: It's Water Festival Time!

It's amazing how one small (or, in this case, rather large) event can completely change your attitude about a place. When I left Phnom Penh a few days ago for my south coast loop, I was a little down on the city. The noise, the dirt, the poverty - it had all gotten on my nerves a bit. Fast forward a week and toss in the biggest festival on the Cambodian calendar and Phnom Penh is a new experience altogether. In fact, it's nothing short of amazing.

I had heard that "Bon Om Tuk" would be a big deal - the population of Phnom Penh doubles as more than a million people flood in from the rest of the country - and, in a very rare moment of (wise) strategic planning, I had reserved a $6 room down by the waterfront in advance. Arriving from Sihanoukville, buses were being stopped about 15 km outside of town. From there it was a tuk tuk taxi to within about 5 blocks of the river, beyond which all motorized traffic had been restricted. Sweating my way through the streets on foot, I made it to the guesthouse, threw my bags in my room, and headed out the door to be immediately swept up in the biggest crowd of people I've ever seen. Although I have no idea how many people were on the streets, the million person figure didn't seem a stretch. People were shoulder to shoulder for blocks and blocks, particularly in the evening. A carnival atmosphere had descended upon the city - vendors, gawkers, picnicers, strollers, strutters, families, tourists, and police clogged all the available open space. Stages for (bad) musical perfomers had been erected in each of the main traffic circles and city parks for entertainment. Neon-covered barges floated up and down the river and a surprisingly sophisticated firework show marked the end of the day - and signaled the beginning of the evenings parties.

For all of the dry-land festivities, Bon Om Tuk is really about the river. Falling in early November each year, it celebrates the "epic victory" of Jayavarman VII over the Chams, who had conquered and occuppied Angkor in 1177. It also marks an annual natural phenomena - at the conclusion of the rainy season each year, the flow of the Tonle Sap river actually reverses direction. For half the year, the river flows into Tonle Sap lake, the biggest in southeast Asia. As the dry season begins, the bloated lake begins to drain and the river begins its normal flow into the Mekong and out to the South China Sea. The locals celebrate this change in the river with boat races...lots of boat races. For three days straight, hundreds (500 this year) of long, skinny, low-riding boats powered by dozens of paddlers race each other on a downriver course set up in front of the royal palace. I'm not sure how long the course is, but you certainly can't see the start from the finish line. It's an absolutely amazing sight - some of the boats have 75 paddlers or more - stroking their way down the river in unison (from a distance they resemble the undulating bodies of caterpillars, especially the teams uniformed in bright green shirts). Once the course has been run, the teams are required to turn around and paddle BACK to the start line and do it all over again. But the upstream run provides an opportunity for some showboating in front of the crowds - chanting, dancing, and paddle slapping are the name of the game.

The races are televised all over the country (and even in Bangkok, reports my Dad) and you're lucky if you actually manage to get through the massive crowds and close enough to the river to see any of the action. Unless you're a foreigner, that is. The Cambodian Tourist Bureau has, in their infinite wisdom, cordoned off a large chunk of riverfront near the finish line (complete with covered viewing stand and padded seats for the softer folks) just for international visitors. After thinking I'd never see the races due to the huge crowds, I stumbled into this little corner of sanity and was promptly escorted by a friendly Cambodian representative to a seat with amazing views. There I sat, transfixed by the crowds, the boats, the races, the capsizes (three that I saw, with over 100 people - sans lifejackets - in the drink) and all the rest of the hoopla for several hours. While I felt a little guilty about my preferential treatment, I figure I deserve a little, especially after all the overcharging my white skin encourages. Today marks the final day of the festival and the word on the street is that, at the conclusion of the championship race this afternoon - presided over by the King, of course - all 500 teams will paddle the course together. Now, that should be a sight.

So, like I said, my feelings about Phnom Penh have be radically changed. The trick will be getting out of town before it reverts back to the drab normalcy that turned me off in the first place. With that in mind, I'm catching an early bus north to Kratie first thing tomorrow morning. Time to start the trip north to Laos.