Ratanikiri, Cambodia

Three wise monkeys: being of good mind, speech and action.

After parting ways with our new friends and lovely hosts in Kampong Cham, we were headed out in search of an even more rural Cambodia. We grabbed a tuk-tuk back into the city, had a short wait for the bus, and we’re off to Ratanakiri, a small town in the north east province of Batambang. But only after witnessing the unfortunate side of animal rights in this area of the world, seeing two dogs crammed into a woven bag and put in the undercarriage with the rest of the luggage.

It was a long, bumpy, extremely hot and dust ridden bus ride, which made for an even worse ride, we were imagining, for the pups down below. At our second stop an hour or two in Ali asked if she could open the cargo doors to give the dogs water, but the not-so-friendly bus driver brushed her off and said “No”. You could hear them whimpering now and again, and even while driving after going through rougher “road” sections.

It must have been four hours into the drive when we stopped for the third time, and during four of the hottest hours of the day. Ali pleaded with the driver for the third time, but with no change in result. Luckily a nice young Cambodian man who spoke English overheard and stepped in to help. He told the driver we had a bottle of water and just wanted to let the dogs get some air and a drink before heading off again, explaining how hot and dusty it must be down next to the engine. He reluctantly accepted, but was even still clearly annoyed that we were asking. When the driver popped the hatch and the bag was pulled out, one dog was already dead.

The scene was not for the faint of heart. I’m not detailing it for the awe effect, but describing it as it was. The older and slightly larger of the two dogs was dead, and as biologically occurs when animals die, the bag was filled with its feces. The smaller puppy was mortified, crammed tight between limbs of the rigid corpse, rigamortis long having set in, just fighting to breathe, also covered in filth. A local woman selling snacks on the side of the road helped us cut the wire which sewed the top of the bag shut, and pulled the dead dog out by its ear. We grabbed our water and Ali began pouring it for the puppy, which drank as much as it physically could, well more than the first bottle of water we had. It had large patches of missing hair, some probably due to stress, but most likely caused by the friction of bumping along for hours while bound in its coffin. The stench was horrendous and impossible to withstand. Some of the fellow passengers and onlookers looked sad, others paid no attention, but the asshole driving the bus still seemed annoyed that we had even bothered him into opening it.

I felt sorry for the dogs when I saw them put under the bus, but had no idea the outcome could have been so foul. I was also under the impression that the owner was not on the bus, as the man I saw placing the bag had hopped on a motorcycle and left from the get go. We later found out the owner was in fact on the bus the whole time, and was not phased by losing one of the two. He now didn’t seem interested in keeping the live puppy, and we were happy to see the locals on the scene say they’d keep him there instead.

It’s clearly another culture and way of life here, and you have to respect there will be different views on many aspects of right and wrong, but to needlessly waste an animals life, and to put it through what must have only been a terribly frightening and painful way to go is just cruel. Eating dogs is not quite a norm in Cambodia, but it still happens regularly. And while there is an obvious distaste if not disgust for this practice by westerners, the same argument could be made for other meat dishes we enjoy but are tabooed by other cultures. And while I hope I never have accidentally and never will purposefully eat dog, I would much quicker accept this type of cultural difference than a complete lack of respect for an animals life like we witnessed here. To be clear, we had no resentment for the Cambodians, but plenty of it for the driver and dog owner.

After arriving and relaxing in Ratanakiri we were in much better spirits. With the help of the friendly local we found a guesthouse with a cheap private room and grabbed dinner before bed. We spent the following two days enjoying the very non-touristy town and countryside. On day one we walked around the area, grabbed a beer and walked down to the pond near town. We rented motorbikes the next day and drove a few hours out, just enjoying the scene and the open road. On the way back we stopped by Lake Yaklom or “Crater Lake” for a swim. It looks as though it was caused by a crater, it’s shape an almost perfect circle, carved right into the middle of the forest. The water’s temperature was perfect, and quite clear as well. A full day could easily be spent relaxing and swimming, with trees for hammocks surrounding its perimeter. We headed home about an hour later at dusk, coated in a nice layer of red clay dust.

Downright dirty.

The dirt unibrow is really not a good look.

Riverboat taxi.

The tallest palm trees we ever did see.

Enjoying a refreshing swim in Crater Lake.

Reflecting on another beautiful day.

Mother Nature shows us her true beauty.

It was nice to be out of the city and just relax without an agenda. The ride to Ratanakiri was not a fond memory, but we’d recommend the north for anyone with time in Cambodia.