Early tomorrow morning I will take the boat to Siem Reap, down the Tonle Sap river, across the great Tonle Sap lake, past the floating village of Chong Kneas. The boat is neither the cheapest nor the fastest way to get there (bus is cheapest, plane is fastest) but I was hoping for local flavour. The boat turned out to be an unromantic, fairly high-speed affair, packed with every kind of foreign tourist from gap-year white kids to elderly Koreans to me. The first hint of drama arrived in the shape of, well, arrival. In the wet season the waters of the Mekong, which meets with the Bassac and Tonle Sap rivers at Phnom Penh, start flowing into the Tonle Sap lake. At this time, its boundaries swell outwards. In the dry season, when I travelled, the reverse happens &mdash the lake pulls away from the land and the currents flow in the opposite direction. So, my boat stopped where the water ended meaning, there was no jetty. But there was a plank &mdash a steep, foot-wide length of wood leading from the boat down. The passengers, especially ones such as me with 20kg hardtop Samsonites, looked down the plank in disbelief. I closed my eyes, clutched at a pitying hand reaching from below and descended, virtually into the arms of Mr Leng.