MYANMAR (2)1 256 Kilometres – 29 Days11 October – 7 November 2015
11 October - Maesot, Thailand – Kawkareik, Myanmar – 56 km
Before
leaving Thailand, breakfast was from Krua Canadian, a European restaurant run
by a Canadian. The owner had lived in Maesot for seventeen years and was a mine
of information. The food was excellent and came at a time when people generally
had enough of noodle soup.
Afterwards,
a short 10-kilometre cycle took me to the Thailand-Myanmar border, where crossing
was without drama. The ATM spat out 300,000 Burmese kyats, enough to buy a
Myanmar SIM card and keep me going for a few days. As a result, by the time I
rode out of Maywadi and set off over the mountains, it was past midday. Finding
the new road open was a delight. Still, the going remained slow as the pass was
steeper than foreseen. En route, two truck accidents indicated that drivers weren’t
used to the new, faster road.
Midway
the weather came in and, on clearing the mountains, I was sopping wet and happy
to uncover digs in Kawkareik. Kawkareik is a tiny community where I’m sure no
foreigners ever overnighted. After booking in, the usual hunt for food followed
and it felt like I was the circus that had come to town. One never passes through
these villages unnoticed, to say the least. Ravenous, as usual, I found the village
without electricity as power was only available from around 6 p.m. Eventually,
a bite to eat was uncovered, albeit cold. Unfortunately, not even the roti man
was at his stand.
12-13
October - Kawkareik – Hpa-An - 95 km
The
ride to Hpa-An was rougher and hillier than anticipated, terribly narrow, and poorly
maintained. Everything shook loose, and I nearly lost the tripod. One had to
keep diving off the road to avoid the innumerable trucks and busses as a
bicycle was very much at the bottom of the food chain, traffic-wise. Mercifully,
the frequent roadside eateries provided a cup of tea and a place to take a
break.
Upon
reaching Hpa-An, the power was still out, but food was available as my abode was
in the market area. Than Lwin Pyar Guesthouse offered a ground floor room at a
reasonable price, something I preferred. I stayed in Hpa-An the following day
as the town sported a few exciting places to explore.
14-15
October - Hpa-An – Kyaikto - 123 km
The
route between Hap-An and Kyaikto was significantly better than the previous day;
although narrow, it was relatively smooth. Myanmar is rural and a place where
people live close to the earth. Being the rainy season, farmers were busy planting
rice and performing other farming activities.
Upon
arrival in Kyaikto, the Happy Guesthouse lured me in. The place was a tad
pricey but comfortable enough. The next morning, the plan was to investigate Mt.
Kyaiktiyo (Golden Rock), a visit that involved a motorbike taxi to Kinpun. From
Kinpun, trucks ran up the steep mountainside to Kyaiktiyo. They packed us in like
sardines; the narrow benches were hard as stone and barely six inches wide. It,
clearly, wasn’t designed with foreigners in mind.
At
Kyaiktiyo, people come to worship at a colossal boulder perched at the very
edge of the mountain. Gold leaves cover the rock, and a stupa has been built atop.
It’s said to contain a hair of the Buddha donated by a hermit in the 11th
century. Apparently, the hair was salvaged from the bottom of the sea and
brought here by boat. The boat subsequently turned to stone, and a rock
resembling a boat is visible a few hundred metres away. Pilgrims came to pay
respects in their hoards, as it’s said a place of miracles.
16
October - Kyaikto – Bago - 95 km
At
breakfast, I met two Canadian cyclists en route to Thailand. I seldom met other
bicycle tourers and we chatted at length before getting underway. From Kyaikto
it was smooth sailing, and my arrival in Bago thus early. The Emperor Hotel made
convenient digs, offering a ground-floor garage to store the bike. However, the
stairs were almost vertical. Luckily, in Myanmar, people are always ready to
lend a helping hand.
17-19
October - Bago – Yangon - 90 km
From
Yangon, the route continued to Yangon, along a heavily congested road. Thirty kilometres
later, a minor road veered off the highway, which turned out rough and uneven
but at least it came without the horrendous traffic. Once in Yangon, I headed toward
downtown and the famous Sule Pagoda.
Where
else will you find a two-thousand-year-old golden temple forming the main
roundabout? The temple formed the heart of the old district, an area known for
inexpensive accommodation. I first checked out a few but, ultimately, opted for
the Ocean Pearl Inn. Although not dirt cheap, it was considered good value for
money.
My
arrival coincided with the start of the weekend which meant my Indian visa
application could only be handed in on Monday. I was a tad peed off with myself
for not checking the calendar. Unfortunately, this meant there wouldn’t be
enough time to bike to the border. So, with time on my hands, I explored the
area on foot until the necessary paperwork could be done.
By
Monday, the embassy revealed I didn’t have the right-sized photo to accompany
the visa application. Darn! At least the required permission to enter the
restricted area at the India-Myanmar border was applied for. At $100, the
permit wasn’t cheap, but there was little one could do but pay. Except for the
receipt, one had nothing to show for it. The friendly lady assured me the permit
would be forwarded to border officials. Unfortunately, the permit was
date-specific, and I entered on the last day of the Myanmar visa and could only
hope all would work out as planned.
Returning,
a quick stop was made at the immensely famous Shewadagon Paya, the holiest
place in Myanmar. It’s a massive complex of temples and pagodas, shrines and “zedis,”
and immensely popular. No matter what time you visit, the place is crowded with
people paying their respects. I wasn’t too fond of the crowds and didn’t linger,
but snapped a few pics and left in a hurry.
20
October - Yangon
Tuesday
morning, I handed in the forms and photos at the Indian consulate and was
delighted to find the application free of charge. Bargain! The drawback was the
process took three days, which meant it would only be ready the coming Friday.
21-22
October - Yangon
I
operated in low gear and explored all Yangon had to offer. Finally, staff reset
the camera settings at the Canon store, and the camera woke from its slumber.
Hallelujah!
Yangon
doesn’t have many tall buildings, and I took the lift to the 20th floor
of the Sakura Tower to get a city shot. My exploits cost me an expensive cup of
coffee but offered a great vista.
I
learned about a circular train, went to the station, bought a ticket and boarded
the next available train. Unfortunately, the ride wasn’t as interesting as
anticipated. I thus disembarked and hopped on a pickup taxi for the return trip.
A pickup taxi is precisely that and consists of a small pickup with a canopy
and benches. Sometimes, one must share your ride with live chickens transported
to the market. The traffic was hectic and it was better to walk the last
kilometre or two.
I
passed mothers searching for nits on kids’ heads and liked this intimate scene
between mother and child. Even though it sounds gross, head lice are non-disease-carrying
lice that spend their entire lives on the human scalp. They can’t jump or fly,
and humans are the sole known host of this particular parasite. Onwards, I walk
past monks doing laundry, countless mobile food carts, and street vendors.
What
a fascinating world we live in.
23
October - Yangon
Understandably
keen to collect the passport, I learned the office only opened at 3 p.m. This
left me enough time to visit the supermarket situated in a surprisingly modern
complex.
The
area was entirely different from downtown, and one could barely believe you
were in the same country. I bought the necessary and then collected the
passport. The collections queue was long and fascinating. Of course, there were
Burmese amongst them, but the foreigners were highly interesting, both in looks
and reason.
Eric
was a French-Peruvian chap, who, like me, had no plan and went wherever the
wind blew him. Then there was a French youngster of the hippie-type meandering
around the globe. He planned to meet his mom, who sounded like a free-thinking gal
living in India.
Later
that evening, I trundled off to the Vista Bar, as the place was rumoured to
have great views of the Shwedagon Pagoda at night. While the view wasn’t
disappointing, I failed to get the pictures envisaged. The reason was that the
speakers' vibration (albeit providing excellent music) wasn’t good for long
exposure shots. Sigh.
I
returned to my abode on foot which turned out an exciting meander. The food
stalls were out, and people sat on plastic kindergarten chairs, eating pork
offal and other traditional dishes.
24
October - Yangon – Okekan – 110 km
More
than happy to get back on my iron horse, I pedalled out of Yangon. Mercifully,
the weather wasn’t as hot as during my previous visit. Still, the weather was
by no means cool and I sweated buckets. A potholed road led north in Mandalay’s
direction, passing small settlements where water buffalo grazed in rice paddies
and oxen pulled carts laden with freshly cut rice stalks.
When
travelling by bike, you get used to people observing you with great interest. From
time to time, I must remind myself the villagers find me as curious as I find
them. Nonetheless, this day I must’ve taken a villager by surprise as he
exclaimed, “Sweet Jesus!” I’ve never had a “Sweet Jesus” before; I must’ve
looked particularly haggard.
In
any event, I proceeded along my bumpy path until reaching the small village of
Okekan, a perfect place to call it a day. The Okkan Hotel was conveniently situated,
and it felt like each staff member came out to help unload the bicycle. They
giggled and laughed, supplied cold water, switched the air-con on, and put my
bike in the storeroom. I could have been mistaken for the Queen of Sheba!
25
October - Okekan - Gyobingauk - 95 km
Even
though a Sunday morning, the village was as lively as one would expect on a
Saturday. Being rice harvesting season, all were frantically engaged in this
labour-intensive process. From cutting to transporting, each had a job. Observing
what all one could carry on a bicycle was equally impressive. People in
different parts of the world move their wares in various manners. In Southeast
Asia, people frequently use a bamboo pole with baskets dangling from each end.
It appeared that one needs to walk with a bouncing rhythmic stride to lessen
the load. A vendor allowed me to try, but I found the load too heavy, let alone
walk with a rhythmic stride!
This
day’s remarkable thing was the hundreds of gigantic golden orb spiders in webs
amongst the trees. They were the most enormous spiders I’ve ever seen, larger
than my hand, and mainly in one area. Along the outskirts of Gyobingauk was the
Paradise Guesthouse. Though not much of a paradise, the place made a convenient
overnight stop en route to Pyay.
26-27
October - Gyobingauk – Pyay - 100 km
Following
a bite to eat at a nearby café, my path headed towards Pyay. The way was flat
and generally sported a concrete shoulder, making it effortless biking.
Unfortunately,
when people in Myanmar want to get your attention, they have a habit of
clapping their hands. Consequently, the day came with a good dose of clapping
and, “Hey you!” It felt like I was coming down with a cold and I didn’t feel
well, and it was a drag getting myself to Pyay.
Still,
the way led passed a multitude of bicycle salespeople; it’s mind-boggling what
they can pack on a bike. Once in Pyay, a hotel was located, which easily turned
out the worst place in town. So dirty was the room, it was downright scary. Before
settling in, I gave the room a good spray. Who knows what-all could creep out
from underneath that wobbly bed? Though various options were available in town,
they were all very alike.
The
next day was spent in Pyay to take a break and rid myself of the oncoming cold.
Not much got done apart from sauntering to the nearby temple and market. The
outing allowed stocking up on vitamin C and eating at the night market - a sure
sign I felt better.
28
October - Pyay – Aunglan - 75 km
As
camping is against the law in Myanmar, sleeping arrangements were checked out more
thoroughly than usual. The single town offering accommodation was Aunglan,
which made the ride relatively short.
Pedalling
into Aunglan, I asked about a room and was escorted to a guesthouse. So kind
was the man, he even helped carry the panniers inside. The Win Light Guesthouse
was conveniently situated along the main street. The place featured spacious
rooms and a balcony, but it wasn’t cheap at $25.00.
29
October - Aunglan – Magway – 133 km
The
way to Magway turned out a long and slow ride. I felt stuck to the tarmac and
although not mountainous, the road remained undulating. Mercifully, the narrow
route was shaded, which made a substantial difference.
Not
seeing a great deal of interest, I put my head down and kept moving forward. Finally,
Magway (pronounced Magwe) was reached in the late afternoon. I was tired and
opted for the first hotel I spotted, right at the roundabout. The place wasn’t a
budget hotel, and one likely could’ve gotten a less expensive one downtown. But
the risk wasn’t worth it in the dark, as people refrained from using vehicle
lights.
30
October - Magway – Chauk - 120 km
The
stretch between Magway and Chauk made for dreadfully slow riding. I even
stopped to check the brakes. However, it must’ve been a false flat as shortly
beyond the 90-kilometre mark the road gradually descended into Chauk.
Chauk
was a bustling, dusty town but without accommodation. The police pointed me
across the way, but the staff gave me one look and announced they were full.
This meant returning to the police to explain my predicament. They came along
this time, and after a lengthy discussion and $20 later, I had the most basic
digs. I’m sure I was charged more than double the average rate. Although annoyed,
it was the way things worked in Myanmar.
31
October - Chauk – Bagan - 40 km
After
shuffling across the street to my bike, left at the police station, I packed up
and set off in the direction of famous Bagan. As it rained through the night, the
path was one big, muddy mess. Luckily, the ride was short, as I was in no mood to
climb any hills that day.
The
route from Chauk to Bagan was a rural path, littered with small hamlets,
temples and goats. So, riding behind a woman herding cattle past
thousand-year-old temples didn't seem unusual. No one chased her on, hooted or
hurried her in any way - buses, cars, and trucks all waited patiently until she
turned off.
Even
though I had been in Bagan not too many moons ago, it remained awe-inspiring, a
place where virtually everywhere you looked old temples jutted out of the
forest. Not many stops were made as it started drizzling, and I wanted to find
lodging rather than become soaked.
1-2
November - Bagan
As
mentioned previously, the central plains of Bagan are littered with temples. I’m
not exaggerating when I say temples are all over the place. On this occasion,
time was mainly spent exploring the inside of these amazing buildings. However,
I couldn’t resist climbing one of the higher temples and snapping a few pics of
the surrounding landscape.
Bagan
dates back to 849 AD but between 1044-1283 AD the region reached its true
greatness, and it was during this time that these temples were commissioned.
Today roughly 2,000 remain.
In
the morning, I emerged to steady rain and discovered my laundry still sopping
wet; this was enough to make me stay put one more day. Then, a horse and cart took
me to outlying temples not seen before. The day was beautiful and relaxing, and
I thought it extraordinary that people lived and worked amongst the temples. In
Bagan people farmed, kids played, cattle grazed, and, most of all, villagers
still worshipped at these thousand-year-old temples.
3
November - Bagan – Pale - 130 km
I
knew too much time was wasted in Yangon and I would need a ride to the border. Still,
I decided to give it my best shot and see how far I got.
Already
late on setting out, the route, fortunately, wasn’t too hilly, merely narrow
and uneven in places. Shortly ahead of Pale, the road disappeared but,
mercifully, reappeared not much further. Pale was reached just as the sun
started setting. Pale was a small settlement housing a few shops spread along
the main street. Enquiring about accommodation, I was pointed to a building that
didn’t resemble lodging but sported a few basic rooms with a toilet and shower
in the backyard.
It
made sense to take a lift over the slowest part of the route, especially since
the owner offered to find a bus timetable to Gangaw or Kale.
4
November - Pale – Kale (Kalay) - By bus
Getting
a bus was easier said than done. The small busses (minivans) couldn’t take the
bicycle, and the larger bus only departed at 8 p.m. This meant losing an
additional day, but with no other option I settled in for the long wait. I wasn’t
looking forward to the bus ride over the mountain at night.
Later,
a walk searching for breakfast turned out an interesting experience. The little
restaurant was tucked away and had a dirt floor and a few wooden tables. A
whole array of food was served while village folk came to photograph me. But, in
the end, they wanted no money for the meal.
The
day passed quickly, and the little village was lively with pre-election
activities. Truckloads of people drove along the main drag, equipped with massive
speakers blasting music and announcing (false?) hope for the future. Flags were
waved, and everyone seemed to have a jolly good time.
At
around 8 p.m., the bus arrived but was full. Miraculously, the driver created
space inside the bus for the bike and set off along a narrow road over the
mountains. We bounced along, without the slightest chance of catching any sleep.
You had to hang on to your seat, and the music blared throughout the night,
highly likely for the driver’s benefit.
The
270 kilometres took 11 hours, and Kale was reached around 7 a.m. the next
morning.
5-6
November - Kale – Tamu - 140 km
Once
off the bus, it was straight on the bike towards Kale. I knew the ride would be
long, and someone mentioned it wasn’t doable in a day (maybe they wanted to
offer me a ride). Not knowing what to expect, I had a quick bite to eat, and
although I could’ve done with some sleep, it was best to get underway as soon
as possible.
It
sure was a long distance, but at least the road wasn’t mountainous. I even
encountered a fellow cyclist heading in the opposite direction and felt I wasn’t
the sole nutter in this remote part of the world.
Luckily,
Kale was reached shortly before dark, as the sun set around 5.30 p.m. and it became
pitch-dark soon afterwards. Biking into Tamu, I spotted the Shwe Oakar Guesthouse,
where I was to pick up the permit. The place looked good enough to stay and I couldn’t
wait to shower, and find food and beer. I slept well that night.
My
permit stated I had to cross the border on 7 November. Thus, I had a day to lounge
around until crossing into India. The following day turned out to be election day,
and the town was busy with pre-election activities. Truckloads of voters took
to the streets, waving flags and singing songs. They appeared to be from the
opposition party. One couldn’t blame them as Tamu had no electricity. My abode had
a generator between 6 p.m. and 10 p.m., besides which they relied upon solar
energy.
7
November - Tamu, Myanmar – Moreh, Manipur, India
The
Indian immigration office only opened at midday and, as a result, I had no rush
to go anywhere. Around one o’clock, a short cycle took me to the Myanmar-India border
and across the river into the state of Manipur, India. The immigration office
was nearly a kilometre further, and though well past midday, no one was in
sight. So instead, officials directed me to the police station in Moreh.
The
place was completely different to anywhere else and reminded me more of Africa
than India. The office was stuck atop a stony hill, reached via a dirt track. I
wrestled the bike up the hill and once all the formalities were done, I
ventured into the village and onto Sangai Lodge. At this basic place, virtually
all cyclists overnighted. The Sangai Lodge owner was extremely helpful and a
mine of information.
