We ❤ Cambodia even in the pouring rain

Late September is a soggy time for Cambodia. The Sonle Tap Lake sprawls across the flat country like a wet blanket (har-har). Sometimes only the tall palm trees and the national highways remain above water. But for the Khmer people, it's just another rainy season.  

Roads may have disappeared and farmland inundated, but they just roll up their pants, don slickers, and get on with daily life. With simple houses built on stilts and a rowboat tethered to the steps, they could focus on the opportunities of the season -- like tasty fish swimming right outside the front door.

It was a refreshing glimpse into how to cope with weather. Sure they could bitch and moan, but I didn't hear one complaint. Instead, it was mostly funny stories about how a scooter got stuck in a hidden pothole or a shrug of the shoulders when the mud splashed thigh high.

I felt I had a lot to learn from these people who have only recently begun to rebuild their country, businesses and communities. The rain and flooding were the least of their concerns. Nature was a constant friend vs. the harrowing evil done by the Khmer Rouge. 

 On our trip through Siem Reap and Phnom Penh, we took our cues from the Khmer and just dealt with it. Boating in the pouring rain, driving in open tuk-tuks the pouring rain, walking in slickers that shed as much water on the outside as they caused sweat to run on the inside. Remembering an umbrella.

One of my favorite places was visiting a floating village on the shore of Sonle Tap Lake. Pelle and I had visited it in 2009 during the dry season and we couldn't believe the change. It was a shock to see the houses that had been elevated 15 feet above the lake now just a foot above the surface of the water. 

We managed a relatively dry day at the Angkor Wat temple complex with an excellent local guide to explain the architecture and meaning of the ruins. But we couldn't go into the old part of Siem Reap town to visit the old market and wander along the banks of the river (can you guess why?), but we couldn't have cared less. The floods let us concentrate on the people, their place and their history, which gave us a far more rich and rewarding experience.