Do we have time?

We're stopped.

The driver prattles about, his voice magnified by the absence of throaty motor, throwing his head back and laughing down the phone.

A tanned woman from Melbourne.
A 60 year old French man with a manual SLR.
A small NZ guy who looks like Gabe.
His hot Italian travel partner
Small, sultry Indian girls
Man more interested in iPod and sleep than see this stunning scenery.
American man wearing a Microsoft Vista launch tshirt

The four hour ferry from Siem Reap to Battambang sometimes takes 6 hours. Maybe 8. It's supposedly due to changes in the water level.

We're stopped again. The NZ guy, American and Adrian snap their cameras at the young Cambodian bobbing with his grandfather on a colourful sliver of boat, slowly negotiating the nets.

Are they laughing at us?

The crumple faced-lady who lulls at the back of the boat laughs back, and the driver and the young boy click their language at each other. The boat is swirled around, back into the sun - we were going the wrong way. We face two houses, pinned feet above the water, separated by a channel slimmer than our boat.

We tip to one side to squeeze through and the thought of my waterlogged notebook and camera keep my gripping hands praying we don't tip any further.

Never mind drowning - a man ahead of us sticks up above the water - just his head. The water is shallow, I could stand.

Sudden silence hushes the chat. Gliding rather than motoring, then stopping. Again.

Plants skim the surface of the river, streaking the opaque, mud green water with the texture of supersized moss. It's found it's way around the motor.

Quietly, among the multi-accented chatter, jokes about the 'speedboat' sprinkle themselves, pinching subtly at this liberal approach to time.

Everyone on board is from a timed society. 6am gym. 8am bus. 8.55am coffee. 10am meeting. 45 minute lunch. 10 minute walk. 12 minute train. 11.30pm bedtime.

Holidays knead this notion from our actions, within days, the mind slows, the plans float freely. But it never presses from our habits, that essence taints us.

Rubber time could be used just a little more liberally at home. On a Sunday, abandon the idea, consider a day of snoozing, a leisurely pace, a late breakfast as essential to being human, rather than a luxury. Maybe flexibility of time is the key to flexibility of mind.