Transit Inn: Postcards from Cambodia 3

The one good thing about not having any expectations of a trip is that when something pleasant comes along, you are likely to feel a greater sense of genuine joy. That's because when you don't have to live up to any expectations, you accept anything that comes along, good or bad, as it is, and you probably won't feel any worse off if it's a bad encounter. On the other hand, when good things happen, you feel a sense of genuine elation over the unexpected harvest, as if it's a bonus that you fortuitously chanced upon.

My trip to Cambodia was by all measures wonderful. My only expectation was that I was looking forward to a relaxing break from the cheerless drudgery of working life; it didn't matter to me that much whether or not my destination had something to offer.

But that's not to say that Cambodia had nothing good to offer. The culturally rich, awe-inspiring Angkor ruins alone would have done justice to any visit to Siem Reap. In addition to the world-famous monuments were the relaxed atmosphere of dusty Siem Reap town and the unfailingly warm and friendly locals.

But above all, I had good company: friends who like me, had not set expectations for the trip, did not fuss over planning, were content to take things easy. And oftentimes, being in the right company is a pivotal factor that affects whether you have a good trip or not.

Tour de Floating Village

Unless one intends to spend a good number of days touring the vast Angkor area, there aren't that many places in Siem Reap to explore. It's not a bad thing per se, unless you are the type who must fill your itineray with places to visit in order to get your trip's worth.

Sekth was the one who recommended that we see the Floating Village. We took up his suggestion partly because, well, we had the time.

The journey down the river turned out to be - no surprise - absolutely delightful. As usual, there was a lot of fun photo-taking - of ourselves and of the village, of course. Every now and then, XY and I would be scrambling to capture a passing moment as the boat glides along.

We had the entire boat to ourselves, and that might have made the journey more enjoyable than if there'd been others on board, which would have restricted our movement, obliged us to laugh more discreetly and strike more approving poses when taking photographs. Neither would my two companions have'd the chance to take the driver's seat, steering the boat in the open sea, squealing in delight as if they'd fufilled their wildest dream to be a boat driver.

But what made the river trip so enjoyable was something more simple and universal. Surrounded by water and greenery, the soothing sky above us and the gentle breeze caressing our face, anyone would have given of themselves completely to the idyllic tranquility and beauty of nature, without any restraint.

In fact, there were no spectacular sights, buildings or landmarks to admire; only the calm water ahead of the boat, the gentle waves stirred by the motor, the long grasses and shrubbery, and the nondescript stilt houses and their ordinary inhabitants.

Yet out of all these, one feels an inner sense of calm, as if for the moment our urban souls had been forsaken, and we'd unconciously embraced the silence that's become a rare occurrence in our frenetic lives.