Tonlé Sap lake is the largest freshwater lake in Southeast Asia. It is renowned for its biodiversity, having been named a Biosphere Reserve by UNESCO in 1997, and is ridiculously productive, providing a full 60% of Cambodia’s protein intake. It is also home to the largest constellation of floating villages in the world.

There are several floating villages a stone’s throw from Siem Reap, but those locations are so heavily touristed that their economies rely as much on tourism as fishing at this point. We decided to go a little further afield to witness something closer to a lifestyle unaltered by an onslaught of barangs (the Khmer word for light skinned foreigner, whose literal translation is “French” – I’m not sure if it’s impossible to tell us apart or if it’s just not worth the effort).

Kompong Khleang is a little more than an hour’s drive from Seam Reap, which is enough of an extra lift that it’s much less visited than the closer villages. They’re still concerned about the impact of tourism, as they should be, so there’s a $20/person charge for tourists to enter the area. While that fee includes a boat ride out to the open part of the lake, most of those funds are used to stabilize the economy, which can, shockingly, be whipsawed by weather outside the normal pattern. Like that happens.

We’re here during the dry season, so the lake is at pretty much its lowest point all year. During the monsoon season the Mekong River overflows, pushing water downstream to feed Tonlé Sap. The lake rises as much as 26 feet at the height of the season, so people either live in houses on tall stilts or aboard makeshift houseboats which simply rise or fall with the level of the lake.

Getting There

The ride there was thoroughly enjoyable, as we got an excellent tour of the countryside. We used Khun, the same driver our Airbnb host sent to get us from the airport. Khun’s English is excellent, and we never tire of hearing how handsome he is. He also refers to us as MadamSir, one word, which is charming. I think, going forward, that we will adopt MadamSir as our collective noun. “Look! It’s a MadamSir of Mark & Dorothy.”

More than anything, though, he knows his way around, even though he’s technically a driver and not a guide. For example, we hit a stretch of road where all of the roadside vendors appeared to be selling pieces of sugar cane, all cut to the same roughly 8-9″ length. Khun pulled over to pick one up for us, and it was nothing of the sort.

The Village

The village on the lakeside, as opposed to the literal floating part, is all structures up on stilts. The dirtside part of Kompong Khleang is dominated by a massive, sparkling Buddha, which stands watch over the village.

As we headed towards the open lake, the tributary we were on was chockablock with small-scale fishing.

Here’s a thing about Buddhist fishermen: their beliefs prevent them from killing, so they pull the fish up with nets and let them die of asphyxiation while they thrash in agony. “Dude, my hands are clean. That fish died of natural causes.” Wow. That’s the Buddhist Shabbos Goy. “Hey, I didn’t turn on any lights.” What’s a belief system without loopholes, to fool your deity of choice?

The open lake, with the actual floating village, beckoned. When we got to open water we asked how deep it was, and the boat driver stuck an oar in until it hit bottom. About a meter.

Punch Line… To The Worst Joke Ever

You’d think the gentle aquatic life that’s been pursued for unknown generations would be immune from much of what goes on “outside.” Silly you.

Besides the obvious impact of climate change on the Tonlé Sap biosphere, and the desire of upstream neighbors to build dams, there’s the small matter of genocide. I swear, you cannot lift a rock in this country without some Pol Pot atrocity scuttling out. It’s all still so fresh here.

For reference, our Civil War ended 160 years ago, and plenty of folks are still salty about it. There are, shall we say, issues still unresolved. World War II ended 80 years ago, and there are pretty obvious echos still reverberating. Some days more than others.

The Pol Pot regime, and the genocide it carried out, ended in 1979. That’s only 46 years ago. There are plenty of people alive today who knew plenty of people who weren’t alive by the time the regime was ousted. In the four years they were in power, the Khmer Rouge killed between 1.5-3 million Cambodians. And don’t forget that Pol Pot was brought down by Vietnam, which occupied Cambodia for a full decade after “liberating” it. At least they learned something from the French.

How exactly did this play out in Tonlé Sap? Vietnamese fishers had lived on the lake for generations, but Pol Pot sent them back to Vietnam, after destroying their identification papers. Vietnam took them in as refugees during the Pol Pot years, but wouldn’t repatriate them, as they couldn’t prove they were Vietnamese. They went back to Tonlé Sap after the Khmer Rouge fell, but Cambodia wouldn’t recognize them without papers, either. They live now in the floating villages because without papers they’re not permitted to own land.

Tonlé Sap is, in no small measure, a floating homeless encampment.

Because of the Khmer Rouge.

There’s no such thing as ancient history.

But even current history hates them. When we were out on the lake, I asked Khun about the Vietnamese presence in the floating villages, as I knew they’d been there for generations, and their presence had left footprints. For example, the pontoon boats were an innovation they brought with them when they came down the Mekong, and they’re everywhere now.

Khun lowered his voice like we could be heard in the middle of the lake, and explained that the Vietnamese presence on Tonlé Sap was troublesome, and something they didn’t like to talk about. Vietnam has harbored imperial dreams for the region for decades, and would love for Cambodia and Laos to be annexed into a Vietnam that, bulked up, could better withstand pressure from China and other geopolitical actors.

That’s a sensible desire, unless you go about it like you’re trying to annex Canada. It’s left the Cambodians deeply distrustful of Vietnam, down to being chary of the poor, lake-dwelling Vietnamese who were originally ratfucked by Cambodia.

I wasn’t expecting a day on the lake to leave me feeling heartbroken. They say travel is broadening, but it’s hard to know what that means until you’ve been broadened.

By the way, Khun had suggested at one point that he take us to tour the Killing Fields. We can’t imagine a more horrific way to spend time than hobnobbing with the ghosts that occupy the Killing Fields. I’d sooner take an Auschwitz tour.

But the ghosts are everywhere here. Good luck trying to avoid them.