Pharmacies, Irrawaddies, Tragedies.

Kratie was very, very quiet, largely because of the ongoing Khmer New Year celebrations. The townfolk are friendly, though, and very helpful in the event that directions are needed, as evidenced by a local tuk-tuk driver who was extremely useful in finding the things I needed.

Those things, due to my schoolboy error the day before, were sunblock and a long-sleeved, white top. I'd forgotten my sun cream and had paid for it, with my skin turning a nice shade of purple on my hands and arms, the result of being in the fierce sun for the whole of the previous day on the bike. The cover from the trees had done me little good and the pain was excruciating. Things wouldn't get much better, in truth, for many days. 

Being used to the sun and, in many instances, seeking to avoid it, Khmers aren't the greatest consumers of sunblock. In fact, in keeping with many societies around the world, both past and present, they seek whiter rather than darker skin, viewing lighter skin as a source of pride, for lighter skin is an indicator that one does not work in the fields or in another outdoor setting. So, perversely, my search yielded only whitening creams, with shop assistants perplexed as to what I actually wanted and I perplexed by the apparent desire of the Cambodian people, beautiful on the whole, to look like me. I suppose it's the same as Westerners seeking tans, but the reverse. Eventually I found some low-quality Korean sunblock, claiming to be factor fifty but also doubling as a make-up base. Hmmm.

The first stop on leaving Kratie was around ten miles north of the city, where one can view the Irrawaddy dolphins, freshwater cetaceans found here, further north at Stung Treng and in Laos (as well as in other countries in the area). Boats are easily hired and take you out to see the dolphins.

An image stolen from elsewhere: the dolphins were impossible to photograph.

Unlike sea dolphins, the Irrawaddy doesn't jump and is regarded as being considerably more timid. That said, sightings are easy near Kratie, though you'll have to be sharp to photograph them. The boatmen are very good at using the engine selectively and on a quiet day, one will have the area to oneself.

The road continues north to Stung Treng and, to be honest, it was a bit straight and boring. The journey was punctuated by random pagodas filled with swaying revellers and variably-surfaced but largely empty roads. Things, as I would find, were not quite as quiet and happy as they seemed.

Pulling over for a drink, I struck up conversation with a man whom I thought was the shopkeeper. This turned out not to be the case and the man was actually minding the shop for his parents. The usual questions about my background, family etc. were asked and we chatted for a little while. I asked why he wasn't at the pagoda and he suddenly looked despondent, eye-balling the ground. He said that it had been a sad day for his family, since his uncle's daughters had been in an accident. They hadn't, however, just been in an accident: they had been killed.

The angst in the man's voice became palpable and I was suddenly filled with both sorrow, pity and awkwardness in equal measure. He told me how he had witnessed the tragedy only three hours before; the girls, aged seven and eight, were crossing the road outside the pagoda when a car ploughed into them, knocking them over on the road before speeding off. The driver, presumably drunk, hadn't stopped, and the police had arrived too late to catch him. The man explained his horror at witnessing this and the little girls lying on the tarmac afterwards (I shan't go into details but they aren't pleasant). Their father had been filled with grief, having to be prevented from harming himself by the family. I sat flabbergasted, not knowing what to say, other than that I was sorry to hear this and hoped that the driver would be brought to justice. From my own point of view, my defences were raised against possible misfortune from drunken drivers.

Riding off after saying goodbye, I passed by the pagoda and saw an outline chalked out on the road where the accident had happened, with some sad faces drawn next to it. Such an image was a piteous one, while the ongoing party seemed strange in light of what had happened.