As one of the more expensive experiences on the trip, we hoped the one-hour boat ride would give us a new view of the dirty city along with some fresh air. After boarding the vessel, our seemingly distracted driver hopped in and manned the wheel.
Me: What is he, like 16?
Andrea: <eye roll and probable sigh of annoyance>
We headed out in the mist and waited for the beautiful scenery and floating markets.
And waited...
And waited.
The homes along the canal were decrepit, squalid, and depressing; not what we anticipated, but unfortunately typical for the city. The only floating market we encountered was a random man on a boat who paddled over to show his merchandise: cans of juice and random found objects. After 30 minutes, our driver turned around and announced we were now returning back to dock. Apparently, his cheat the tourists out of their money skills were better than his time-telling skills, but we set him straight and directed him toward the wat. Unwilling to waste too much gas, he spent the next 30 minutes cruising the boat at a sluggish pace of approximately 5 nautical knots so we had the opportunity of seeing another 25 feet of the canal. Tricky... very tricky.
Upon arriving at the wat we had to pay a docking fee to get out of the boat—yet another frustrating scam for helpless tourists. Pay the fee and get out or stay in the boat with the stubborn teenager. The answer was obvious.
We headed for the temple, thankful we were free from the unsatisfying boat ride, and marched right up to the front gate and... it was closed. Really? Come on!
Our teenager, more of a Gilligan than a Skipper.
The lush, tropical scenery we were promised.
The wat before docking
Oh, the disappointment...
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