Drifting down the Mekong, one travel writer discovered the pleasures of travelling by a river that carries both history and daily life, from the temples of Angkor to the markets of the Delta. This is his story.

This article contributed by John Savage

There are many ways to explore Southeast Asia, but for me, nothing has quite matched the feeling of drifting down the Mekong. This great river has shaped kingdoms, nourished civilisations, and still carries the heartbeat of Cambodia and Vietnam. On a nine-day cruise with CF Mekong by CroisiEurope, I travelled from the shadow of Angkor’s temples in Siem Reap to the pulsing energy of Ho Chi Minh City – known locally, and still fondly, as Saigon. It was a journey that stitched together cultures, stories, flavours, and unforgettable encounters, all carried along by the current of this mighty river.

Our boat, the Toum Tiou II, was a 38-metre teak river vessel, small enough to feel personal with just 14 cabins. It had an old-world character and a warmth that made it feel more like a travelling home than a floating hotel. The cabins were compact but well thought-out, with just enough touches of comfort to make returning after a long excursion a pleasure. Yet it was the life outside my cabin window that mattered most. From dawn until dusk, the view was alive: fishermen casting their nets in synchrony, schoolchildren waving as our boat passed by, and barges piled impossibly high with rice, sand, or even livestock.

VIGNETTES OF CAMBODIAN LIFE

Every day was different, each one revealing a new face of the Mekong. Early in the trip, I pedalled along dusty paths past lotus fields in the Cambodian countryside, where water buffalo lazed in the heat and children on ox carts laughed at the sight of our bicycles rattling past. In Tonle Sap’s floating villages, I slid into a kayak and rowed silently between houses, schools, and shops, all tethered to bob on the water’s surface. Everyday life unfolded around me, from women hanging laundry on bamboo poles to children practising their lessons on a rocking schoolhouse.

Phnom Penh, Cambodia’s capital, felt like stepping into another world altogether. One moment, I stood in awe at the gleaming spires of the Royal Palace, its golden rooftops glittering in the sun. Hours later, I walked through the haunting memorials of the Killing Fields and the Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum. The contrast was jarring, but necessary – a sobering reminder of the city’s complex history and resilience. It wasn’t easy, but it was unforgettable, and it added a deeper weight to the otherwise lighthearted pace of our days.

Our guides, who spoke English, French, Khmer, and Vietnamese, were not just knowledgeable but natural storytellers. They wove centuries of history into their explanations and managed to connect those stories to the people we met along the way. One afternoon, instead of simply watching a cooking demonstration, we joined in – pounding mango salad in wooden mortars and rolling delicate Cambodian spring rolls under the patient guidance of local chefs. Another evening, a troupe of dancers boarded the boat. Against the backdrop of the river at night, their Apsara dance shimmered in the lantern light, a performance that felt less staged for tourists and more like a gift for friends.

CRUISING INTO VIETNAM

Crossing into Vietnam, the river changed its character again. The wide, powerful stretches of Cambodia gave way to a labyrinth of channels and tributaries in the Mekong Delta. Here, life seemed entirely waterborne. Entire villages floated on pontoons, markets spilled onto boats that crowded the waterways, and every canal carried the sounds of daily life. In Cai Be, I wandered through lively markets where fruit sellers pressed samples of rambutans and mangosteens into my hands, their sweetness unmatched by anything I’d ever bought in a supermarket. Later, a sampan carried me through narrow, shaded canals, where the smell of damp earth mixed with the smoke from cooking fires. It felt as though time had slowed… or perhaps it just never needed to hurry by at all in this watery world.

Meals on board the riverboat were another highlight, often eagerly anticipated after a day of excursions. The small galley produced dishes that married French refinement with Southeast Asian freshness – fragrant lemongrass soups, delicately spiced fish amok, and tropical fruit tarts that rivalled Parisian patisseries. At dinner, the dining room buzzed not with formality but with camaraderie. Guests shared their stories from the day, laughter echoed across the tables, and glasses were raised in a dozen different languages. The crew joined in too, creating a sense that we were all one travelling family.

I especially remember Mitch, our tireless purser. Somehow, he kept the boat running smoothly while also fielding endless questions from curious passengers. He explained everything from safety drills to the logistics of docking in tiny villages, all without losing his humour. His presence, like that of the whole crew, added to the sense that this was more than just a cruise – it was an experience crafted with care.

By the time we reached Ho Chi Minh City, it felt as though I had travelled through centuries more so than merely across long distances. Saigon’s energy hit me the moment I stepped ashore: the scooters buzzing in every direction, the neon lights, the cacophony of modern life. And yet, behind me, the Mekong still lingered in memory – its floating villages, its temples, its endlessly flowing rhythm.

Looking back, the journey went beyond merely sightseeing. It was more about immersion, about moving slowly enough to feel the life of the river and the people who depend on it. The Mekong didn’t just carry me from Siem Reap to Saigon; it carried me through layers of history, culture, and humanity that I could never have glimpsed otherwise. If travel really is, as they say, about the journey, then a laid-back river cruise like this must surely be among the finest ways to discover a place.

Images courtesy of the author and CF Mekong by CroisiEurope

CRUISE DETAILS