We started off the week in Siem Reap, the town in Northwestern Cambodia that is the base for exploring the nearby Angkor temples. We arrived from Bangkok with Patrick's parents, and spent the first four days in Siem Reap with them. It was lovely and made the world feel a whole lot smaller to be with family. It was great to see them. After they left, Patrick and I stayed on in Siem Reap for a few more days, exploring some of the more remote temples. Then we headed to Battambang.

The trip began when we were picked up at our guest house at six a.m. to make a seven a.m. boat departure. A pick-up truck already filled with seven people and their backpacks pulled in to Smiley's Guest House and the four of us standing there -- me and Patrick and a German couple -- stared incredulously at the remaining space in the back of the truck, wondering how we were all going to fit. Fortunately, three of us instead were invited to climb into the cab, behind the driver, our knees tucked up to our chins and our backpacks in the back of the truck, added to the pile. What we didn't realize is that we weren't the last stop. There were in fact four more people to pick up. It was a clown car by the time we pulled onto the road to head for the boat dock -- six people in the cab and at least ten, plus all those backpacks, in the back.

On board the boat, the seats quickly filled up, and some people headed for the roof of the boat. Again, we weren't done picking people up. Along the route, through Tonle Sap lake and up into the river to Battambang, we passed through a number of floating villages, where people live on houseboats of sorts, tethered together, close to floating shops, restaurants, and gas stations. The boat would blast its horn as we pulled into each village, and sometimes a family would paddle out in a little wooden canoe, and hand off a passenger and suitcase to the boat before waving goodbye and paddling back home. One such late arrival was travelling with more than just a suitcase -- the boat crew helped him heft burlap sack after burlap sack on board. Some they put down in the hold in the front of the boat, and others they carried down the aisle to the back, near the door to the W.C.

We all started to notice that the burlap sacks were wriggling.

The word went around -- crocodiles. We all turned around in our seats and watched what was clearly tails twitching through brown cloth. The sacks did seem securely sewn shut, and Patrick said, "They probably know what they're doing with these things. They've probably got this down." And I said, "I'm glad I already used the bathroom, because now you'd have to step over the crocodile."

We'd been on the boat for two hours or so at that point, and we'd been told it was about a three-hour trip. But three hours came and went, and when we pulled over for a lunch stop for the driver at a little floating convenience store, that seemed like a bad sign. So a few hours later, it became clear what had to be done. "Okay," I said to Patrick, "I'm going to go step over the crocodile."

I'm writing this from an internet cafe in Battambang, where I'm happy to report we arrived, safe and sound with all our limbs intact, after a six and a half hour boat ride where we took way too many pictures, which we'll post next time we have a high-speed connection.

Tomorrow, we're headed a little more off the beaten track, into the Cardamom Mountains, to hopefully see some nature and wildlife and maybe experience a little bit more of rural Cambodia. I'll let you know what we find. In the meantime, the next time you're on a road trip or at a bar and find yourself having to use some less-than-pleasant facilities, feel free to say you're going to step over the crocodile.