Sound familiar? Actually, the heading should say something like buses, motorcycles, songthaews, trains, and planes. That is a good summary
of where I’ve spent most of my days this past week: riding various forms of transport! Somehow, my body has survived it and my butt isn’t bruised yet.
After purchasing my tickets, packing a light pack
for my last adventure, and having my last ‘meeting’, I hopped on the 6:00 bus to Mae Sai bright
and early Monday morning. I had been told it was not such a wise idea to head off to Kengtung, Burma on my own, especially since I didn’t know any Shan, Burmese, Chinese or Thai (all of which can be used apparently). Unfortunately, I am proficient in none. But oh well, since when has that stopped me from going anywhere? My plan of action was this: get to the border early enough that I could get through immigration, purchase my 14-day visa to Kengtung, and catch a shared taxi that would get me to Kengtung before dark. Well, I got my visa just fine, though it did involve having to cross over and get some passport photo’s made first and then heading back through the fray of hagglers to pick up my new and beautified I.D. to Myanmar. Then I got some money exchanged, which resulted in the biggest wad of Kyat bills, making me feel slightly well, criminal?, and quickly bought some nearly-expired snacks at the local store. My next mission: a taxi. Yeah, well, good luck with that. I of course, had no choice but to ask where to find a
taxi, and that of course, resulted in a rip-off. Take a motorcycle taxi to the taxi stop right across the road and pay 20baht? Yup, that’s what I did. Sucker! The taxi to Kengtung was also charging a whopping 4000baht to get there. Uhhuh, this student just ain’t that rich…or stupid. Though I was quickly regretting my stupid decision not to take the 800baht taxi pre-arranged by the immigration officer. Okay, next. They kindly told the only farang lady walking around to head to the bus station, and catch a bus to Kengtung. I capitulated, figuring getting there was better than getting stuck in a border town like Tachilek. The ‘bus station’, was a random old tour bus parked at the side of the road outside a shop somewhere. On my way there an older Burmese gentleman shared with me that the Dutch were good people, having sold them guns. I thought, guns? When? He said, oh before WWI. Ahh okay…wayyyy before my time, and even his, haha. Bought my ticket on the Shwe Myo Taw Express, and settled in for the ride, at a relatively cheap rate of 320baht. Though Tachilek was a bit of a dingy, busy border town, offering
cheap cigarettes and who knows what else, I wasn’t feeling like things were too terribly different from Thailand. 5 ½ hrs later, I was thoroughly immersed in Burma, having finally made it to Kengtung via the not-so-‘express’ bus. Old karaoke tunes were blaring on the big TV (either in Shan or Burmese), as we went through about 4 checkpoints, I.D. cards all assembled neatly in a photo album for the officers to flip through as we came through, while the bus attendant ran around getting stamps and I strongly suspect, paying some people off, and others proceeded to check belongings. No cheery hellos here, though a semblance of normalcy was definitely the act of the day. Our bus driver spoke in a comically high-pitched voice while spitting chew out the window and sitting in his traditional Burmese longgyi (skirt), easing the old bus through the winding old one-lane paved road (officially titled the Myanmar Tollway Co., LTD). I was never once directly addressed, though I garnered I was talked about every once in a while, and I s
till felt pretty safe knowing that I had left my passport at the border and the bus attendant was holding my documentation.
We arrived in Kengtung (pronounced Chiang Tong) at about 6, and luckily an English-speaking older gentleman asked me where I wanted to stay, only to ‘suggest’ the government-approved guesthouse across the street. I checked out the room ,seemed fine with a bed and a fan and a shared bathroom. I wasn’t exactly going to be picky, otherwise I wouldn’t have come this way. 300baht a night including breakfast, and she would hold my documentation. Then I proceeded to hunt down some food, as I hadn’t eaten a proper meal all day. The only thing was, the streets were ghostly still, with a few lit places scattered here and there. I gave it a shot anyways, receiving many a bold stare doing so, but managing to get a map of Kyaingtong from a kind hotel lady who also pointed me to the only open restaurant across the way. Food eaten, I decided further exploring was best left for the daylight of tomorrow. My guesthouse meanwhile, had been powered up with electricity via a loud generator out front. Ahh, somehow I felt like I was back in Afghanistan! Weird how things like generators can bring back memories.
At 6 the next day, people were up and moving. And I was ready to make the best of my short time there and go exploring. After receiving a fairly good breakfast, I was off. I decided to really act the tourist this time, and ignore any and all stares and just go for it. As a mini-parade procession wound down the street beside me, I headed up to my first stop, the Wat Jhom Kham, known for its elaborate adornments. Indeed, it was a fun sight to behold, and I could well see how the murals on the walls and the bejeweled entryways probably held many rich stories of the past. I also got a great view of the green fields and emerald hills around Kengtung. The ladies I passed on the road had traditional Shan clothing on, also on their way to a local celebration at a temple, Shan drums beating in the background. They stopped and gave me some lovely smiles. Kengtung holds a mix of many different eras and cultures. It has some of the old British influence, with old colonial buildings and churches, it also has the Burmese pagodas, the Thai Lanna culture, Chinese, and of course Shan culture. All in all, a very pretty town. I could see how at one point it may have been flourishing, but there was a certain deadened air as I passed sparsely filled shops, many closed grates, and certainly no fancy cars, cafes, or 7Elevens, let alone more than a few restau
rants. Many drive old vehicles of decades past, engines sputtering, and the new version of a tuk-tuk or a songthaew was an old 3-wheeler or a motorcycle taxi. Nearly all the men and women wear the longgyi. And while in Thailand I would get plenty of hellos or even would be haggled and honked at by passing tuk-tuks, there was no such overt greeting here. They looked, yes, but they didn’t bother me whatsoever. Only the kids were curious enough to say hi. Having seen most of the town by 11, I had some lunch, bought some Shan karaoke for the heck of it, and then on a whim managed to hire a motorcycle taxi to take me the old colonial station called Loi-mwe. Little did I know that it would be an 1-hour drive on a winding dirt road at breakneck speeds way up into the mountains, 1600m above Kengtung. Yup, my hand was feeling a bit bruised from holding on so tight, and I said a quick prayer and decided to enjoy the trip for what it was: an adventure. And boy, the scenery alone of paddy fields, rising mountains, and a valley town far below, were well worth it. We got there, and I was offered a cup of coffee, the Akha lady pointing at a ritz of instant coffees hanging from a poll under the hut. Yup, that one’s fine, I indicated. I was soon surround
ed by a 4 Akha ladies, with Burmese takhana (sunscreen from natural bark tree) smeared on their cheeks, all smiling and nodding their heads at me. They wanted to know where I was from, and indicated that my white skin was ‘suay’. The driver didn’t speak much English, but the mustached Burmese soldier that came along and sat down across from me, smoking his cigarette, managed to ask where I was from. I asked him where he was from, and he said Yangon. Me, I’m from Holland, Amsterdam. With a bit of conferring amongst themselves, I think they figured out where that was. Meanwhile, the single phone for the locals was ringing next to me.
Quickly visited the pagoda, then saw some of the old British homes left from the colonial station, while hobbling down old cobblestone roads. All in all, unimpressive. On the way out, however, I got to participate in what I believe is the first bribe of my life. It went like this. When coming to 
Burma, foreigners have to say exactly what area they are going to, being restricted to the Kengtung-Mongla area of Shan state in this case. Loi-mwe falls a bit in a gray area apparently, as what I read about visiting it said that although one wasn’t supposed to head far out of Kengtung, no one would care if I went to visit Loi-mwe. As we headed in though, past the army gate, I heard a small yell and a whistle blowing as we zoomed past. I thought, okay, well the driver not stopping so it should be okay. On the way out though, it turned out it was not so okay. The gate had been pulled down, and the officer stopped us, proceeding to thoroughly lecture the driver as he nodded, smiled, trying to appease the officer a bit, all the while chewing his tobacco (or whatever it was). At last, when I was asked for my passport and I said I didn’t have one, and that guesthouse I was staying at had my Myanmar I.D., it was indicated that we should sign our names on a list and indicate where we’re from, and then the number 1000 was written on a piece of paper and pushed my way. 1000 kyat please, says my driver. Okay, fine, 1000 kyat it is. I pay, nods are exchanged, and as easy as pie, we were off again. I can’t say I was entirely impressed by the experience, and as we headed down the mountain and passed by the road laborers I had been told work in very oppressive conditions, and as we passed by various companies sporting the ironically titled ‘Myanmar Construction Co., Ltd’, or ‘Myanmar Electric Co., Ltd.’ and so on, I was hit again by the fact that I was in Burma, and the reins of power were held by one group.
Meanwhile, I also get back to Kyaingtong with the worst sunburn. A farmer’s tan really, and not only was it embarrassing and was I no longer ‘beautiful’ with my white skin, it hurt soo bad. No more wandering around, it was out of the sun and bed for me. I managed to get up at 6ish and ate my very last Shan meal at a local place, indicating from a row of covered pans which meat I wanted: fish, pork, chicken, or beef. It was absolutely delicious, yummy spices and all. As I walked away, I realized it was my last Shan meal and so it was all quite a nostalgic experience. I headed up a hill to see the sunset, and headed back to my guesthouse. I decided wisdom called for getting back to Chiang Mai in a timely fashion so I could catch my train to Bangkok, and so caught the Shwe Myo Taw Express out the next morning. The kind old lady beside me offered me her prunes and sunflower seeds, and everyone was a bit surprised when the clueless foreigner stayed on the bus while everyone got off to let the army search their bags. Nope, my bag did not get searched, and I’m sure my expression said enough. I briefly got my hands on my I.D. right before getting to Tachilek, while it had been in the hands of others the entire time I was there. After many bus rides that day, I got to Chiang Mai and aircon and bed by 9 that evening.
The Shan villages I passed on the way in and out of Kengtung, and up to Loi-mwe, were much the same as the one’s I visited in Northern Thailand. Mostly bamboo homes, clean and well kept. Passing through slum areas of Bangkok recently, I realize that although the Shan may be poor, they work hard with what they have, maximizing. Their’s is a simple life, but not necessarily a bad one. I did notice a few places that were fenced in or had the Myanmar army flag symbol at the entrance, but were in fact more like farms. Could these be a sort of forced labor site? Or relocation sites? I’m not sure, nor could I ask. Shan state from what I have seen, is certainly very abundant. And I can see how if they own a piece of land and are able to farm it and live off of it, the Shan are happy. The problem is that they have to give all profits away. The harshness of life comes from a lack of freedom.
Anyhow, so going back over the border from Tachilek, I experience mini-culture shock. I was suddenly quite impressed with Thailand, with the posh tour bus taking me to Chiang Rai, with the good roads, even with the kind officers at the checkpoints. Thailand is much like Burma, seemingly the same concept of life, checkpoints, same kind of businesses run, even the level of corruption etc. But the difference is like Thailand got the other side of the coin, and is a step ahead of Burma. Is what Burma would be if had more freedom. But maybe Shan state would be even more well-off than Thailand if it weren’t for its bad situation. The Shan seem to be a diligent, smart, quick people.
So I was glad to get back to Chiang Mai, get a good night’s rest, and actually get to do some much-needed packing of my things. Then a quick trip into the city, coffee with a friend, and rushing off to the train. This time, I was smart enough not to underestimate my time constraints. The night-train to Bangkok was uneventful, but a fun little experience. Met a nice lady sitting across from me, treating me half like a counselor after a bad break-up :-0. One does meet all kinds of people while traveling. Now, to get over this long, long layover at the Suvarnabhumi Airport! I was already happy to see the airport from the bus over this morning though, almost a feeling of nostalgia that I was finally heading off somewhere again, haha.
