Kingdom of Cambodia: Escape from Monkey Island

I suppose I should have seen last night as somewhat of an ill omen. I was woken in the early hours by thunder and lightning that was literally earth shaking. I wasn't sure if electricity was fucking up the island of Koh Rong or a Thai military bombardment. It was unrelenting, and went on for at least 2 hours until which time I'd held on to my snails eye of a cock for long enough to manage to drift off to sleep. I was later told by the guy who ran the bungalows I'd stayed in that the Khmer have a saying that's along the lines of We pray that the May lightning doesn't kill too many. Huh. In the night, I had a look outside and found two dogs huddled in my porchway, looking pretty bummed out. I offered them floorspace inside but they politely declined. I gave them both some vanilla crackers which they gratefully ate, tails thumping away on the wooden slats. Before I went back to bed I went for a piss and found a huge, cross-eyed brown lizard just hanging out on one of the roof slats. He was like a foot long, and I didn't know where the hell he was looking. Utterly bizarre.

I got up the next morning and it was still raining, and it was time for me to head back to the Cambodian mainland. I'd been on the island of Koh Rong (also called Monkey Island) for a day, and now had to brave the 3 hour expanse of water to get back. It had been pretty bad on a clear day, so god only knew what the cross would be like in a middle of a storm. Well, God, then me about 3 hours later, and everyone reading this 6-12 hours after that. On the way here there had been a fair few people on board, with just enough room for us all to sit comfortably, though I use the word 'comfortably' fairly loosely as it was an old fishing boat and we were basically sat on planks of wood. Buuuut it was ok. On the way back however there seemed to be a fair few more people, I'd say at least 40-50, to begin with. We all got on, made ourselves comfy, then the posse of women and children showed up, so we moved about a bit, made some space for the toddlers. Then, a flotilla with more families came from the side, as if the boat crew just wanted to make sure enough victims were on board for any sort of catastrophe. Before the ship set off a guy walks around who was currently pretending to be the captain and asked for any volunteers of people sat on benches to sit in the middle of the boat with an already established crowd. Being the noble protagonist, I obviously obliged, and a few other people joined the throng too. The captain asked for still more people to move. The remainder of people looked at each other and shuffled a bit, but didn't move. The captain, noting a losing battle in trying to explain the intricacies of maritime navigation with 10 stock english phrases, retired to his wheel and started the engines.

The boat leaves, everything is ok for say 10-15 minutes, enough time for me to snooze a bit listening to Sleep, appropriately enough. Out of nowhere, commotion. You could say my iPod shuffle had skipped to shipwrecked, or total fucking destruction. The captain looked rather troubled, he was waving wildly with his arms, and this kid that can't be older than 15 comes up and asks people on the benches to sit in the centre of the boat. Again with the quizzical faces. Some guy (not me) is at the side of the boat trying to unfurn the rain cover to protect his Abercrombie swim shorts from getting wet. At this the captain shouts something foreign and obscene and the kid scrambles over and reties the cover. Then out of nowhere BOOM the ship gets hit by a fuck off massive wave, and it was quite heartwarming to see people cotton on and move to the middle of the boat.

From then on it was pretty exciting/interesting/terrifying for about an hour and a half. I will return to the normalcy of narrative, but in the interests of atmosphere imagine that everything is going off at 11 like a Michael Bay film.

It starts with this weird fat German woman actually shouting at the top of her voice (I honestly kid you not) "Captain! Captain! I think that I need to be sick!" as if this particular exclamation should become the sudden priority of the ships crew. Get that woman an anti-emetic before you touch that rudder! Noone seemed to be listening.

In the interests of taking my mind off mortal terror, I got talking to two lads sat next to me who were from California and working for an anti people trafficking charity in Phnom Penh, and some girls who were in the Peace Corps. It dawned on me that, contrary to my prejudices, every white person in Cambodia bar myself might well be involved with some sort of NGO. Anyway halfway through this thought process we got hit with a squall as big as a house and I didn't have time to admonish my White Devil status. In any case we broke the tension with heaps of small talk and many, many inappropriate remarks from yours truly, including a suggestion that we could use boat corpses for driftwood, and telling these crying young women that it was like a theme park ride and we should all shout 'wheyyy' every time we hit a big one. I'd also lied in the conversation with the Americans by saying the journey was way worse the day before, with less people and better weather. They must have been Christians because they believed every word. Or they were polite and not an arsehole.

Furthermore, while all this was going on, there was this busty european woman (I could tell by how her husband dressed) breastfeeding a child who looked like he had to be 3 or 4. I don't know if she had decided to ad hoc restart her child's breastfeeding programme two years on, or if she was the weirdo queen from Game of Thrones in hippy euro tourist guise, but regardless she seemed to have shit under control with this on. A particular highlight of the journey was definately seeing all the Cambodian crew trying and failing to discreetly sit in a circle and pray, to which various pockets of people whispered 'do you see that!' Nothing puts confidence in your passengers like praying for your lives by the steering wheel.

As the boat came to shore, there was this epiphanic moment when 15-20 people all vomited off the side of the boat in quick succession. It was like they decided that if they had to die, they'd do it with dignity and stomach contents intact, but now the worst was over, they could all live with a little shameful dribble down their tops. It was incredible. People of all creeds and colours running for the side and unleashing gouts of spaghetti hoop and rice pudding sick, like a gastric sacrifice of thanks to the merciful nautical gods.

When the boat arrived everyone offered the boat crew a huge round of applause, befitting such hard work. Sodden, completely soaked through each and every one of us, we walked up the dock plank one by one. I walked past the same fat German woman from before who was letting off some high volume shouting diatribe about how she felt sick and everyone just ignored her.

Noone was listening.