No Dolphin Hugs, the bastards.

Suddenly left alone we jumped on a bus bound for the East, our ultimate destination the Laos border. The tourist bus stopped in a small nondescript town to change buses and after a while an irritated man shoved us into a mini-bus. As more people climbed in the air got unbearably hot and we were encouraged by the driver to try to reduce the size of our pelvises. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief out of the nearest window as the movement created a breeze in our mini-prison. However we didn’t get far. Round the corner we stopped and the air dropped still once more. As the driver got out and eyed up the huge vegetable pile so did we, wondering where the hell it was going to go. In a wondrous feat of packing we set off once more, the bus quite a lot heavier with our knees up round our chins.
We arrived in Kratie some 3 hours later. To put it politely it’s not a very picturesque town but a handy stop over point for access to the eastern jungle. We decided to stay one night to investigate the island lying visibly a short distance from the mainland. Mr Hap ushered us in to his hotel and took an immediate shine to Tim, hugs and all. He didn’t try it with me, he looked a bit wary that I might bite.
The next day found us being ferried across to the island with our rusty bicycles. After we’d pushed and pulled them over the beach we were met by Solophan, who arranged for us to have lunch with a family on the island. Later, after we’d explored all the corners we could, cycling at a speed appropriate for the way of life, it turned out it we would be lunching with Solophan’s family strangely enough. He’d moved his family from Phnom Penh only 3 months before to escape the hectic life of the city and find a more peaceful, healthier existence, like a ‘A Cambodian Year in Provence.’
We ate while the children stared, slowly warming to our presence before accompanying the family for the afternoon wash. As we swum in hammocks, Tim showing off his remarkable skills in the magic floating bed, the clouds above began to turn a muddy grey. By the time we headed down to the river, the sky was almost black with just shards of light on the horizon. The water was warm from the hot day but when it started the rain was cool. As we floated about the lightening got closer and the thunder got louder until the dogs ran away. The rain began to pound down and we found ourselves in the mighty Mekong in the middle of a thunderstorm. The thunder cracked over our heads until the children cried and had to return to the shack. By the time we got out the wind had whipped up and it was the coldest I’d been since England. Partially dried we left the family and thanked them for their hospitality with the international sign of thanks, cash.
We decided to leave the next day, after a quick stop to see the dolphins off the southern shore. Trusting Mr Hap and his excessively friendly nature we booked a tour and a bus for later, that we were assured would leave when we wanted due to the Western excess price we’d paid.
Early the next morning we were hustled into a tuk-tuk and driven towards the waiting dolphins. Tim was especially excited as Matt Sim loves the dolphins so much has marked himself with a pictorial tribute, we could only assume that such devotion was born from their friendly nature. Naturally, we were expecting hugs. When we arrived it turned out Mr Hap’s dolphin tour consisted of an jaw-droppingly expensive tuk-tuk ride as extra money was demanded for the boat ticket. We had a peaceful half an hour on the river, gasping at splashes that could well have been drowning tourists for all we knew. Later the river began to fill with more boats and we charged around the river, chasing the splashes with boats of safety conscious Japenese tourists, resplendent in lifejacket orange. Needless to say there were no dolphin hugs that day, it took quite a while for Tim to realise and finally lower his arms.