Before visiting the lover's house, we passed through Sa Dec Market - a mostly covered and narrow marketplace bustling with activity. Scooters and bikes constantly zipped through, weaving their way between local shoppers. Baskets of sedate chickens sat waiting to be plucked, while at the seafood stalls shallow pans of water showcased shellfish, snails, frogs, eels and fish - most still wriggling and occasionally even leaping into the air. The vast majority of stalls were tended by women in conical hats who filleted and butchered with deft hands. While as outsiders we felt the most drawn to the meat and seafood vendors (because they made the farmer's markets back home look oh so tame), there were plenty of others hawking exotic fruits, fresh vegetables, spices and a larger variety of rice than I knew existed. Some photos below. Not for the squeamish or vegetarian.

Little girl accompanying a parent on a shopping excursion.

The ladies who run the market stalls can butcher and filet as fast as the cooks in Michelin starred restaurants.

Having grown up in Seattle, I'm used to living by water. But seeing the lifestyle that its proximity fosters, even from the very window of our cabin, was another matter entirely. As we got closer to (and finally reached) the Mekong River, the economic activity that our ship passed only intensified - at one point there was enough boat traffic it was like driving on the highway back at home during rush hour! The color of the water is a result of the rainy (read: muddy) season. Some photos below.

Sacks of rice being unloaded via conveyor belt.

We passed many barges practically weighed down to the very water level with soil.

A woman taking a break at a floating market.

A little boy grins at us from the back of a vendor's boat at the floating market. These boats have long bamboo poles on which they hang examples of what they're selling. (Although a hat affixed to the pole means that the boat is for sale).

The Cambodian capital had a much different vibe from quiet Siem Reap; it reminded me a lot of Taipei with all its greenery and claustrophobic streets. Upon arriving we had some free time, so the majority of the group went to check out the Royal Palace - a complex, really, of gilded, elegant structures with high peaked roofs and colorful embellishments. To my surprise it's still in use. The current king, at sixty-three, is still single and childless, so he will likely select one of his nephews to be his heir.

Inclement weather slightly disrupted scheduled activities, but we still managed to squeeze in a cyclo tour around the city's main sights before departure. A 'cyclo' is essentially a bicycle with a seat for a single passenger affixed to the front. It was a bit nerve-wracking being in the face of honking traffic but our drivers proved most trustworthy.

Side view of the Silver Pagoda at the Royal Palace. It gets its name from the thousands of silver tiles that comprise the floor, and houses Buddhas and other trinkets made from precious materials.

Detail of a restored portion of a mural at the Royal Palace.

The cyclo drivers sizing us up. I had the sense that they were all jockeying to have me as their passenger because I was the smallest.

This cheeky little boy was running around naked (don't worry, his mother was nearby) in the area that we stopped to admire the Independence Monument.

A view of the parliament building on the left, ironically located just next to a casino (gambling is illegal).

I'd never been on a cruise prior to this trip, partially because of the prohibitive cost, but also it seemed like the laziest mode of travel. I pictured the Carnival ships on infomercials that are essentially floating Vegas resorts, and I didn't understand the point of experiencing something so mundane (eating! drinking! gambling! swimming pools!) in the middle of the ocean, when you could just as well do all those activities at home for much less money. But when I saw the discounted package for this particular cruise and the itinerary (sunrise at Angkor Wat; killing fields outside Phnom Penh), I was intrigued.

Our ship, the Toum Tiou II, has fourteen cabins spread between two levels, a dining room and a sun deck replete with wicker furnitures, lounge chairs and a bar. The crew of sixteen takes care of everything from maintenance and housekeeping to multi-course meals. Having done my share of frantic, backpacker-style travel, I have to admit that it's nice not to repack and move every couple days; to know that a delicious meal will be waiting at the appointed time; and to have all excursions and transportation ready and taken care of. The first night on board, my birthday, the chef presented me with a cheesecake after dinner. The lights were dimmed, and the staff emerged with a guitar, serenading me before presenting a traditional Cambodian scarf.

Although the ship can accommodate twenty-eight passengers, we are a modest group of ten - two couples from Canada, another from Australia, and a pair of sisters from Finland. My mother and I are the only Americans, and I am, by far, the youngest passenger. Over the course of our voyage we've become a new sort of makeshift family, sharing stories, medicine, travel advice. It will be sad to part ways in Ho Chi Minh City in just a few days.

Our cabin. We also have a bathroom with flush toilet and shower (with light up shower head).

The kitchen, where our awesome staff churns out delectable multi-course meals.

As our ship sails toward the Vietnamese border, I'm reflecting on the diverse snippets of life we've seen between Siem Reap and Phnom Penh. From floating villages to towns of varying sizes, every place we've seen offers evidence of traditional lifestyles merging with modern technology. Below, some photos.