The Rhythm of the River: A Day at Kampong Khleang

A Village on Stilts

Kampong Khleang is not a floating village. That distinction matters. Unlike the more touristed communities of Kampong Phluk or Chong Kneas, Kampong Khleang is a permanent settlement built on towering stilts, some as tall as ten metres. When the Tonle Sap swells in the wet season, the lake rises to meet the houses, and the entire village becomes a labyrinth of wooden walkways and narrow boat channels. In the dry season, the stilts stand exposed, revealing the mud-caked foundations and the daily life that happens below the houses: hammocks strung between posts, chickens scratching in the dust, children playing in the shade.

We reached Kampong Khleang by boat from the village of Chhnuk Tru, about a forty-five-minute ride across the lake. The journey itself is part of the experience. As we left the shore, the sound of the engine replaced the rustle of palm leaves, and the horizon opened into a vast sheet of brown water. Fishermen in small wooden skiffs cast nets with a practiced flick of the wrist. Cormorants perched on bamboo poles, drying their wings. The lake is not blue; it is the colour of strong tea, churned by the current and rich with silt. The smell is of wet wood and fish, a scent that clings to the skin and stays with you long after you return to Siem Reap.

Life Above the Water

As the boat slowed and we approached the village, the scale of the stilts became apparent. The houses are not simple huts; many are substantial structures with tiled roofs and wooden balconies, built to withstand the annual flood. The village has its own school, a pagoda, and even a small medical clinic, all perched on stilts. We docked at a wooden platform and climbed a series of steps to a walkway that connected the houses. The boards creaked under our feet, and below us, through the gaps, we could see the dark water and the occasional flash of a fish.

The walkway led us to the village’s main thoroughfare, a wide wooden boardwalk that runs parallel to the shore. Here, life unfolds in a rhythm that has remained unchanged for generations. Women sat on their haunches, gutting fish and tossing the entrails into the water, where a crowd of catfish fought for the scraps. A man repaired a fishing net, his fingers moving with the speed of long practice. Children ran past us, laughing, their bare feet slapping the wet planks. A dog slept in a patch of sun, oblivious to the commotion. The air was thick with the smell of fish drying on racks, a pungent, salty aroma that is the signature of this region.

A Taste of the Lake

We stopped at a small eatery, a simple structure with a few plastic tables and a view over the water. The menu was short: fish, rice, and a few vegetables. We ordered the grilled fish, a whole snakehead that was butterflied and cooked over charcoal. The skin was crisp, the flesh flaky and sweet, and it came with a bowl of fiery green chilli dip and a pile of fresh herbs. We ate with our hands, tearing off pieces of fish and wrapping them in lettuce leaves with rice and herbs. It was a simple meal, but it tasted of the lake itself, of the water and the sun and the slow pace of this place.

After lunch, we wandered further along the boardwalk, past a cluster of shops selling basic provisions: bags of rice, tins of cooking oil, bottles of palm wine. A group of women were weaving palm leaves into roofing panels, their hands moving in a steady, hypnotic rhythm. They smiled at us but did not stop working. We watched for a while, and then, as the afternoon heat began to build, we decided to head back to the boat.

The Return Journey

The boat ride back to Chhnuk Tru was quieter. The sun was lower, and the lake was a sheet of molten gold. The fishermen were still out, but their movements seemed slower, more languid. A few herons stood motionless in the shallows, waiting for the evening feed. We sat in silence, watching the village recede into the distance, the stilts shrinking until they were just a line of dark sticks against the sky.

Kampong Khleang is not a place that performs for visitors. It is a working community, and the people there are going about their daily lives. That is what makes it so compelling. There are no ticket booths, no souvenir stalls, no staged performances. There is just the lake, the houses, and the people who have made their home above the water. It is a reminder that the Angkor region is not only about temples and carvings; it is also about the living landscape, the rivers and lakes that have sustained people for centuries.

Getting there from the villa

Kampong Khleang is about 55 kilometres southeast of Siem Reap town, a drive of roughly one and a half hours by car or tuk-tuk. The road is paved for most of the way, but the last stretch to the village of Chhnuk Tru is a bumpy dirt track, especially in the dry season. From Chhnuk Tru, you will need to hire a boat to reach the village. The boat ride takes about 45 minutes. Your host at the villa can arrange a driver and a boat for you, and it is worth starting early in the morning to avoid the heat and to see the village at its most active.

Good to know

• The best time to visit is between November and February, when the water level is high enough for boats to reach the village easily, and the weather is cooler.
• Bring sun protection, a hat, and plenty of water. There is little shade on the boat or the boardwalk.
• The village has no ATMs and few shops, so bring cash if you plan to buy food or drinks.
• Be respectful of the residents’ privacy. They are welcoming, but this is their home, not a theme park. Ask before taking photographs of people.

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