Last night I took an overnight sleeping bus from Phnom Penh to Siem Reap, Cambodia. The booking agency offered three types of sleeping buses and I selected the “luxury sleeping bus.” It cost a pricy $19 (the cheapest was $12.) Splurging!

I expected individual reclining seats, much like the seats on airplanes. I’ve seen seats on sleeping buses in Thailand recline 100% and I crossed my fingers hoping for that type.

I arrived at the Night Market in downtown Phnom Penh at 11pm. The buses simply park along the street there. Overhead, a bright sign for the bus company promised free water, wifi, blankets and pillows, and an onboard toilet. As the bus pulled up at midnight, I was delighted to see through the windows that it had proper mattresses! Real beds! Each side of the bus had a row of four bunk beds, with one bunk along the back, for a total of 9 bunks and 18 beds! What a luxury! My friend gave me a glowing review about this special kind of bus earlier in the day. She told me that each bed came with privacy curtains and that she slept very well. I was very happy!

Upon entering the bus I first noticed the incredibly narrow aisle. With a row of twin sized bunks along each side, it measured no wider than 18″. The bottom bed was simply at floor level with the upper bed around elbow height. As I moved down the aisle my backpack snagged along the sides of the beds. I had to walk carrying my body at an angle because my shoulders were simply too wide. The space was uncomfortably crowded and induced in me a sense of claustrophobia I don’t regularly experience. 

Having squeezed down the aisle to my bed, I noticed with alarm that my mattress was set up with two half sized pillows and two sets of sheets. Certainly they don’t put two people on each? My friend wouldn’t have neglected to mention sharing a small bed with a stranger? I halfway-reassured myself that couples could simply split the cost and bunk together.
 

I hopped up and sat on the edge of the upper bed and noted that it was decently comfy, albeit understandably cramped. Becoming more relaxed I leaned back, and, placing my hands behind my back for support, they found themselves on a drenched bed sheet. Upon inspection I noticed the ceiling had been leaking and the far half of the bed was completely soaked. And amidst my frustration with this discovery, someone began scrambling into the bed to join me!

He was a Cambodian man, likely in his mid-40s, and when I tried to alert him to our soggy situation I learned he didn’t speak any English. I mimed it to him instead, and he felt the wet blankets with his hand. He inspected the sheets and the ceiling, laughed a little bit, and then plopped his thick unfolded bed sheet overtop the bed puddle. He laid back, right on top, and seemed perfectly contented. Soon, Cambodian music began playing from his phone as he closed his eyes and nodded off. Now, his side of the bed was very, very wet! And yet …no complaints? Miraculous!

Or was it even miraculous at all? Pondering his age, I considered that he likely would’ve been a young guy when the Khmer Rouge was busy killing 25% of the Cambodian population. I can’t know what this man may have experienced, if anything bad at all, yet my mind can certainly imagine some worst case scenarios. And it’s an odd thought for me, but maybe sharing a drenched twin bed with a total stranger in a too-cramped claustrophobia-inducing leaking bus isn’t actually something worthy of complaining about?

And like this, I got lost in thought. I pondered my self-centeredness and my good fortunes. I pulled our privacy curtains shut, and, shoulder to shoulder, I laid down next to my teacher and tried to fall asleep.