Journal Entry 23

September 20th, 2003

"FECs Suck"

 

I made it to Bangkok. The actual journey (since leaving Vietnam) was: boat, boat, bus, bus, bus, pickup, walk, motorcycle, bus, walk, bus, bus. It started Thursday morning at 8.45am until I arrived in Phnom Penh, Cambodia at 5pm. This involved two boat journeys and one bus journey. The following day (Friday), I travelled from 6.30am until midnight, almost constantly. First bus, bus, pickup. Then I crossed the border into Thailand at 4.59pm; the border closes at 5pm. Me and the motorcycle taxis didn't exactly hit it off, so I started walking to the bus station. After about 1km, I found out it's 7km away (I had no map), so I got a ride after all.

I was having a rough time of it and needed some comfort food. So I walked into a 7-11 and got a coconut pastry. Got a bus. Bit into the pastry, and it's stuffed with onion and some pasty weird stuff. Long bus ride. In Bangkok, I tried to Beat the System by getting off the bus before we reached the bus station. I knew where I was and which bus to take. Well, despite me standing at a bus stop, they wouldn't stop. And dogs chased me. And it started pouring out. Don't try to Beat the System. Not in Bangkok. At the end of the story, it took me two more buses to get into town.

So I arrived a day early. My brother arrives in Bangkok in a few hours, at the convenient time of 1.30am, especially nice when the airport is an hour out of town.

But back, back, back....

My travel narrative left off somewhere just as I was leaving India for the third time.

My last night there, I made the most of it. Ate paneer, cardamon-flavored milk, jackfruit, idli, chai, Parle-G biscuits, a lassi (yogurt shake), and paan (areca nut with lime paste, wrapped in a betel leaf). I miss Indian food, and knew I would, so that last night, so I ate everything I could.

I know airport security everywhere is up, but the Kolkata, India airport sure had some weird restrictions. Sixty of them to be precise. Many were ordinary, like hand grenades (#20), plastic explosives (#9), though I wouldn't expect anyone to be accidentally carrying these and fess up after reading the sign. Then there were the items that made you think a bit, like meat cleavers (#24), road flares (#41), sabers (#42) and crow bars (#30). But the ones that perplexed me the most were: pickles and spices (#7), pool cues (#38), cricket bats (#58), and chilly powder (#60). Anyway, after getting in trouble from an Indian airport dude for writing these down, I was off to Burma, still travelling with Kris. And yes, even Indian flight attendents wear sarees.

So we arrived in Myanmar (Burma: the old name the British gave it. Myanmar is the "new" name, though it's actually much older, going back to precolonial days). No guidebook, but a good contact: Mike, a friend of mine from the States, lives in Yangon (aka. Rangoon...same reason as before). He picked us up and whisked us off to what I'll refer to as The Palace. An air-conditioned wonderland on a big lake, with shelves stocked full of American food and goods. Started off with cookies, chips & salsa, and milk. Moved on to burgers and enchiladas and hot brownies with ice cream. I can't describe how this felt after being away for one year and two months!

Stayed in the capital city of Yangon for a couple days. Saw Shwedagon, a big famous temple comlex there. Wandered around markets. Enjoyed The Palace. But soon it was time to move on. One of the contrasts I noticed immediately is that upon leaving the Indian subcontinent, the women have a role in society again. They're not tucked away here.

We hit Bagan first...a sixteen hour A/C bus ride that turned into a breakdown-filled twenty-four hour bus ride in a bus with broken A/C and windows that don't open...not fun. So, Bagan is a huge scattering of temples (over a thousand, I believe) scattered around the countryside somewhere in the middle of Myanmar. We got there late afternoon, so we hopped aboard a horse cart, and made it to one of the bigger temples in time for an amazing sunset. While most of the day sucked because of the neverending bus ride, it was a good ending to our Fourth of July, which was topped by a beer and a nice meal. A bit strange to celebrate a holiday that represents freedom and democracy in a country ruled by a corrupt dictatorship where the people have little in the way of freedom, but whatever...

Spent three days renting bicycles and spinning around the temples, most reachable within a 30-minute bike ride (which isn't as nice as it sounds when it's really hot and the sun is blazing and you have a shitty old bike from the 1880's-or-so, and the left pedal keeps falling off). A lot of the temples aren't attended so you can climb up the old stairways and go up on top. Others have paintings and statues. Some are inside caves. It was a good time. There are few people there, so you really have the place to yourself for the most part. Best value in Asia for guesthouses in Bagan: $3 gets you hot water, A/C, a nice big breakfast with quite possibly the world's best mangoes, and a patio outside.

Saw sunsets from the top of three different temples. This really is an amazing experience. Some temples are whitish-colored, others are red. The Ayeyarwaddy River snakes along to the west of them. The rest of the landscape is brown fields dotted with patches of green trees. The temples poke above everything else, and the setting sun hits them and lights them up like little torches. And you can see hundreds of them, so it's really quite nice. Our last night there, we celebrated Kris' 26th birthday with cheroots on top of an abandoned temple and biked home in the dark...

Moved on to Mandalay, packed like sardines in a little van/bus. At one point, when the bus was really full--including the aisles, the doorway, and even people up top, I turned to Kris (difficult in itself), and joked that we could fit at least two dozen more people inside. To our chagrin, we did.

Mandalay wasn't exciting, unless you are really interested in seeing the world's largest functional bell in the neighboring town of Mingun...or the kitschy temples atop the famous Mandalay Hill. The best part of Mandalay was actually this little ice cream parlour across the street from the hotel, the aptly-named "Nylon Ice Cream Bar." A tip: when in Asia, before you order a banana split, make sure one of the ice cream scoops isn't durian-flavored.

Then, on to Pyin U Lwin, a very British-colonial-looking city up in the hills. Took a day trip to Anisakan Falls, a big waterfall emptying into a turquoise pool that you have to hike a bit into the jungle to get to. It was great. They had a big rock to jump off of, and you could swim behind the waterfall as well. I'm seen a lot of waterfalls, but this one was paradise--the best yet. Good coffee up in Pyin U Lwin as well. And Indian food (lots of Indians up here--the British recruited them here for fighting in colonial days).

Saw a Burmese movie in a cinema. This was so bad that I've almost successfully repressed the memory. I could write more about it, but it would mean unrepressing it, which I really don't want to do.

Next stop was Hsipaw, a nice little town where we ate lots of pineapples and sticky noodles and jam-filled bread rolls. Rained a lot, but we managed to do a lot of walking (and getting lost) in and around the rice fields and villages in the area. Kris left, ending a great five-or-so weeks together.

On a tangent...one of the best aspects of this trip is that it has allowed me to spend a lot of quality time with friends and family from back home. My brothers Kevin and (now) Steve, and friends Matt, Mike, and Kris. It's rare when you're home, working (for me anyway), to ever spend more than 24 hours' time with one person So it's been really great to get to know people better and I feel really lucky to have this opportunity!

Anyway, I returned to Mandalay via train, which crossed the Gokteik Viaduct, a famous bridge built around the turn of the (last) century by an American company. It was quite a feat in its day, apparently. I got about seven pictures of it. I don't know why, really, aside from the fact that the government doesn't like people to take pictures of it. After dark on the train, none of the lights were working, so people lit candles...it was a unique atmosphere.

I then headed north, but changed the mode of transport to river ferry. Boarded the passenger ship on the Ayeyarwaddy River, my new home for two days and two nights. It works like this: unless you put up more cash for a cabin, you're allotted a square (painted on the floor), size about 18" x 48" (45cm x 120cm). Joining you are a couple hundred Burmese.

It was a blast! These people are great. You don't need to guard your stuff. They're so honest and smily. It's squallor. People everywhere...eating and selling and sleeping and hanging out...world's strangest slumber party perhaps. A nice breeze passes through the ship as we chug up the river. The lush green landscape starts at the water's edge. On the shore...naked kids bathing and jumping from trees, women doing laundry, pagodas, hills, jungle, fishermen on boats of all sizes, life seems no different perhaps than it was two hundred years ago. We stop at a few villages en route and women jump aboard, screaming and competing to sell food: rice, fruits, veggies, fish...lots of strange stuff. But all delicious, and all cheap.

And after fifty nap-filled hours, I arrive in Bhamo, northern Myanmar...as far as passenger boats can go up the river. The boat lands amid a teeming mass of horse-pulled carts waiting to take you where you want to go. Dozens of them in a muddy field, competing for business. Goods being tossed around, loaded and unloaded, yelling...one of the craziest and most comical scenes I've ever witnessed.

Bhamo's a nice place. Green and leafy and relaxed. Stilted teakwood houses. Tamarind juice. Nothing to do there. Really. So I stayed five days. Rearranged the furniture in my hotel room to suit me better. I sandwiched daily trips to the market and walks outside the town between bouts of torrential rainfall. Otherwise, did little. Watched gorgeous sunsets on the Ayeyarwaddy River over snacks of quail eggs and lady fingers. Alone most of the time. Had breakfast delivered to my room every day by four people. One carrying my coffee, one the eggs and toast, one a platter of fruit, one with juice.

It had to end. Retraced my way back to Yangon over a three-day stretch...a day and a half on the river (eating loads of lapeto--the best food in Myanmar!), a day in Mandalay, a night on the bus.

Back at The Palace, I enjoyed the creature comforts for a few days. Set the A/C in my room to about 62 degrees F. Had pizza. Made a box of generic mac and cheese with two cheese packets. Yum! Did a lot of cooking, which I've missed...in those three days, I made two loaves of banana bread, a dozen cinnamon rolls, baked mac and cheese from scratch, omelettes, whole wheat pancakes with real maple syrup, cookies, french toast...and probably gained five pounds. Read a bit, watched Goonies and some old Ren and Stimpy cartoons ("It's log, it's log, it's better than bad it's good!"--my favorite cartoon song!). Took a dip in the nearby swimming pool. Mike even had a rocking chair.

Myanmar was refreshing. For the most part, people aren't used enough to tourists to rip you off, so you don't need to bargain at the markets. Most men still wear loongyis (sarongs), as they haven't yet been much influenced by the West. Cool place. The government seems pretty shady though. You actually can't (legally) exchange dollars in Myanmar. You are forced to change some for FECs (foreign exchange certificates) on arrival in the airport. These are legally equal to the dollar, but the street rate is closer to half the value. So one of the goals of every tourist is to get rid of all the FECs--kind of a pain in the ass, as no one wants them.

Lots of activity going down..."The Lady", Aung Syn Sii Kyi, Myanmar's democratically-elected leader in 1989, was put under house arrest shortly before I arrived. Lots of talk and speculation about changes up top. US announced new sanctions in the midst of my visit. Keeps life interesting, I guess! At least I wasn't forced to leave the country. That would have been quite inconvenient.

So I left the comforts of The Palace on July 31. I had overstayed my visa, so had to fill out a few sheets of paper and get no less than fifteen stamps scattered on them and in my passport, and successfully talked my way out of an extra "fee." Landed in Bangkok, right back spot-on where the whole thing began fourteen months earlier.

To be continued...

"Seeking means: having a goal. But finding means: being free, being open, having no goal." (-Hermann Hesse)

 

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