Monday, 25 May 2015

072 CYCLE TOURING CAMBODIA (2) - WAITING FOR A NEW PASSPORT


CAMBODIA (2)
929 Kilometres – 21 Days
3 May – 25 May 2015




MAP
PHOTOS


 

3 May - Sa Kaeo, Thailand – Saophoan (Sisophon), Cambodia - 107 kilometres

Once in Cambodia, the route headed east toward Siem Reap. The road was in good condition and ran past stilted houses and dry rice paddies. I was going like the clappers, trying to outrun the approaching storm, wondering if reaching Saophoan without getting soaked would be possible.

 

4 May - Saophoan – Siem Reap - 107 kilometres

The following morning, the route was, for the most part, in good condition, except for a section that was being resurfaced. The dust was horrendous, and I had to use a buff to cover my face. Luckily, this wasn’t the rainy season. Being early May, the weather was scorching, and the mercury hovered around 40°C. To stay cool, I occasionally wet my shirt, but it would dry within minutes. Like a diver needing decompression, it felt like I needed an air-con room to “de-heat.”

I passed by several rural communities and saw countless schoolchildren riding their bicycles. It's heartening to see that in this country, kids are free to go to school on their bikes.

Coming from the countryside, Siem Reap, known for its tourism, appeared chaotic and over-commercialized. In the rural areas, the cost of water was only 500 riel, but in Siem Reap, some places charged as much as 4000 riel.

Ivy Guesthouse had fan rooms but, unfortunately, the fans didn’t make the slightest difference. At 11 p.m., the weather bureau reported that the temperature was at 30°C, but it felt more like 35°C. As it was noticeably cooler outside, I set out to explore.

 

5 May - Siem Reap

By morning, I searched for better accommodation and discovered a whole plethora of places, all roughly in the same price range.

My main reason for staying in Siem Reap was to explore the temples of Angkor Wat and I purchased a three-day ticket. My first stop was Angkor Thom, the last great capital of the Khmer Empire. Approaching the site, its magnificent entrance gates came into view, flanked by 54 demons and 54 gods engaged in an epic tug of war.

Inside the gates, the old temple features 54 towers decorated by 216 enormous faces of Avalokiteshvara (The Lord who looks in every direction), which (is said) bears more than a passing resemblance to the great king himself.

 

6 May - Siem Reap

I felt a bit unlucky when it came to capturing sunrises and sunsets. The previous night's sunset was without colour, and this morning's sunrise was unimpressive. However, I still snatched a few pictures as I rarely wake up at 5 a.m.

After sunrise, I stopped at the stunning Ta Prohm temple, which became famous after being featured in Tomb Raider. Unfortunately, the Cambodians were busy renovating the structures, making photographing them difficult. However, this work is vital to keep the temple standing. Fortunately, there were still plenty to photograph, and I half-expected to run into a hobbit.

 

7 May - Siem Reap

An additional day was spent exploring some of the more distant ruins in Angkor. With my three-day ticket, I could explore in the morning and then return to my air-conditioned accommodation during the day, only venturing out once the heat subsided.

 

8 May - Siem Reap - Kampong Kdei - 61 kilometres

After three days of not cycling, I expected to be full of energy. However, instead, I felt lethargic and struggled to get going. My path passed typical Cambodian houses on stilts where people seemed to spend most of their time under their homes. This is where they could escape from the heat and rain and eat, socialise, and relax in hammocks.

Cambodians traditionally prefer to sit on the floor or in hammocks rather than chairs. This is a sharp contrast to other cultures where people usually rest or sleep in the privacy of their homes.

Several vendors were selling bamboo rice and dried fish along the way. I found the bamboo rice quite tasty, as it was cooked in bamboo stalks over an open fire.

Further along, I was surprised to come across an ancient bridge built between 1181 and 1220 AD. The bridge was built along the old road that connected the ancient capital of Angkor to the south. It was impressive that the bridge was still in use, even though a new road had been built to bypass it. The bridge measured 86 metres in length, 16 metres in width, and 10 metres in height. It had 21 arches supported by 20 columns and was adorned with a 9-headed Naga balustrade. Pedestrians, motorbikes, and bicycles all used the bridge.

The guesthouse beside the bridge made a convenient overnight stop, albeit a tad early. These village guesthouses made interesting stopovers. Rooms came at $6 and had a fan, en-suite bathroom featuring a squat toilet, and a mandi (a sizeable concrete tub filled with water). The Cambodians were very diligent about complementary items such as toothbrushes and soap. Even the most basic rooms offered a toothbrush, soap, and the ever-present communal hair comb and I wondered who the heck uses a communal comb? But, judging by the blackness of the teeth, they were well-used items!

 

9 May 2015 - Kampong Kdei – Kampong Thom - 90 kilometres

Feeling surprisingly energetic after feeling tired the previous day, I left much earlier than usual. Cycling in the cool morning air was a pleasure. The road was crowded with schoolchildren on bikes, which surprised me as it was a Saturday. It made me realise that although almost all children attend school, how they get there varies greatly.

As on the previous day, the route passed by wooden houses on stilts. I heard the usual "Sabadee falang" greeting coming from under the houses or behind banana plants. The word falang (foreigner) appeared as a code amongst the younger ones. Only one had to call “Falang”, and all the kids in the neighbourhood would come running, yelling “Falang, falang!”

As it was the weekend, wedding ceremonies were a common occurrence. These events usually took place in pink and yellow marquees outside the family homes. I must admit that my curiosity sometimes got the best of me, and I would sneak a peek at these activities.

 

10 May - Kampong Thom

Rumour had it that pre-Angkorian temples were scattered in the forest roughly 30 kilometres from Kampong Thom. After hailing a tuk-tuk, we set out in the direction of the site. The ride was slow and took the best part of an hour.

Upon arrival, I discovered various trails leading into the woods. It was great fun locating these temples and exciting to stumble upon these ancient ruins. More than 100 structures are scattered throughout the forest. The information board provided fascinating facts about the area, stating that it was once called Isanapura and served as the capital of Chena in the early 7th century. Fascinating stuff.

 

11 - 12 May - Kampong Thum – Kampong Cham - 113 kilometres

Shortly after departing, my route passed an area where temple statues were being crafted. The sculptures, ranging from big to small, were exhibited along the road, featuring sitting and reclining Buddhas. Carving these statues was an immensely dusty process that certainly couldn’t be healthy.

The path resembled a never-ending village, with each house having a plastic contraption with fluorescent lights to trap bugs. It appeared no one in Cambodia wanted to run out of hors d’ oeuvres.

The roadside rubber plantation looked lush and green, which made me feel like taking a break in the shade. However, I have noticed numerous snakes over the past few days and decided against such a move, especially after cycling over one earlier.

I found the labour-intensive process of harvesting latex from rubber trees fascinating. A 25-centimetre cut was made in the bark, leaving the bark to form a gutter for the latex to flow into a cup tied to the tree below the cut. The latex was only collected every second day from the same tree. It’s said the trees can be harvested from about five years old and for up to 28 years. During the dry season, the trees are not tapped and there was no tapping during my visit.

I chose to stay overnight in the small settlement of Kampong Cham, situated along the banks of the Mekong River. Finding a place overlooking the river was easy, and I bought a beer, which I gulped down while enjoying the sunset. The town was charming, and I stayed another day, devouring anything in sight and watching the Mother River flow past. Life was good.

 

13 - 17 May - Kampong Cham – Phnom Pehn - 107 kilometres

I woke early to witness the sunrise and took a few pictures. I’m not exaggerating when I say that after snapping one shot, all the colours disappeared.

It’s said that even the most mundane trip becomes an adventure when travelling by bicycle, which was the case this day. Unfortunately, Google Maps didn’t indicate a road along the river to Phnom Penh.

The Mekong is a mighty river that flows 4,350 kilometres from the Tibetan Plateau to where it eventually drains into the South China Sea in Vietnam. I thus assumed that people lived and farmed along the banks of this mighty river.

My first stop was at the bamboo bridge, which was strong enough to hold a car but felt unstable and springy. Google was true to its word and soon the path petered out and became a sandy track. I bounced along a dusty trail, past small settlements where villagers were as surprised to see me as I was to see them. A few laughed, some pointed, others stared open-mouthed, and the kids, as always, called, “Hello, farang!”

Roughly 30 kilometres from Phnom Penh, my path reached a brand-new highway leading into the city centre. Once in Phnom Penh, the Royal Guesthouse made a comfortable stay. Rooms offered air-con, TV, a bar fridge and a bathroom with hot water, all at $13. I consequently decided to stay five days. Exactly how the five days would be spent was a mystery, but not having to pack up and move along was a novelty.

The traditional Cambodian dance show was a pleasant way to spend an evening. It made me realise how much I’ve missed the theatre. However, my photography wasn’t up to scratch, and I found capturing the fast-moving dancers in low light challenging.

The Killing Fields was depressing, and I had no intention of revisiting it, but I somehow landed there. I believe it is impossible to visit Cambodia and not touch on the genocide in this country. It makes you wonder how a country can go from the mighty Khmer Empire of Angkor to the genocidal rule of the Khmer Rouge. Nearly all countries/nations/tribes had wars and killed countless people. At least they wanted something from their “enemy”.

In contrast, Cambodia killed their very own. In the relatively short period from 1975 – 1979, the Khmer Rouge managed to kill around two million Cambodians, and it’s the sheer brutality of these murders which gave one the creeps. As a result, a sombre mood prevailed at both the Killing Fields and at the former prison known as S-21. This now innocent-looking school building was once the largest torture centre in the country.

 

18 May - Phnom Penh – Traeng Trayueng - 90 kilometres

Being 8h00 on a Monday morning and with major roadworks underway, getting out of Phnom Penh was an utter nightmare. Cambodians drive in weird and wonderful ways as well as on both sides of the road. Not surprisingly, I had a minor collision involving a motorbike coming in the opposite direction, which ripped my front pannier. The pannier was held together by duct tape for the remainder of the trip.

The good road out of Phnom Penh didn’t last long and soon became narrow and rough. At least the road had an excellent dirt shoulder. Route 4, heading south, led into the wind, a bit of a double-edged sword as the breeze kept me cool but slowed the pace considerably. Ninety kilometres out, the Chanreah Guesthouse rolled into view and made a good enough place to spend the night.

The restaurant across the street provided a delicious bowl of curry noodle soup. The food was so good that I later returned to get another bowl. It was remarkable to see how Cambodians stood together, trying to overcome their sad history. The guesthouse owner built a substantial open shed, housing volleyball courts and snooker tables. This was where the village kids came to play and practice. The owner didn’t charge a single cent, and he didn’t even sell alcohol or soft drinks to cover his expenses.

 

19 May - Traeng Trayueng – Veal Rinh - 93 kilometres

The landscape became hillier as the route headed south towards the coast. Much of the land in the country’s southwest is covered by the Cardamom Mountains, and one needs to cross these mountains to reach Thailand.

Upon arriving in Veal Rinh, I did not want to travel an additional 50 kilometres to Sihanoukville to check out the diving, so I opted to stay at a conveniently situated guesthouse.

 

20 - 22 May - Veal Rinh – Sihanoukville - 53 kilometres

The following day, I travelled the short distance to Sihanoukville, where bungalow-style digs at the Reef Resort sported a swimming pool and made perfect accommodation. The owner offered an excellent deal, and although my initial plan wasn’t to stay long, the price was too good to ignore. Unfortunately, the diving did not turn out as well as expected and it was best to give it a miss. I did virtually zero, apart from enjoying the swimming pool.

 

23 May - Sihanoukville – Koh Kong - By bus

Usually, it rained hard in Southeast Asia and was soon over. However, it continued raining this morning, and I was reluctant to get underway due to my broken pannier. My lazy existence in Sihanoukville should’ve been used to fix the pannier, but I forgot all about it. Although taped up, the tape had pulled loose, and instead of fixing the bag, I hopped on a bus to the border and, within a few hours, was in Koh Kong. How this move would solve the problem was a mystery, as the pannier still needed fixing.

Biking the same route twice wasn’t overly exciting, and I found it hard to get motivated. After finding a room in Koh Kong, I half-heartedly attempted to fix the pannier. As the pannier was beyond repair, putting everything in a waterproof bag was easier. An internet search revealed an Ortlieb shop in Bangkok, and I planned to check them out.

 

24 May - Koh Kong

Instead of crossing the border into Thailand, a trip upriver looked far more interesting. The excursion made a good change of scenery and was money well spent.

The boat slowly puttered upriver for almost an hour and a half. From there on, an overgrown trail led up the mountain to a waterfall; luckily, our guide had a machete and could hack open the path. The landscape was lush and green, and the weather was humid as we strolled through dense forests to reach the falls. After a swim and lunch, we retraced our steps. Halfway, our guide scrambled up a tree and returned with a sizable coconut for each. In no time, he chopped the coconut open and even crafted straws from the reeds.


 25 May - Koh Kong, Cambodia – Trat, Thailand - 108 kilometres

The Cambodian immigration office was only 10 kilometres away across the Meteuk River, and the Thailand border control was a short ride from there. As the rain continued throughout the day, it seemed like the dry season was coming to an end. Despite the rain, I cycled 100 kilometres to Trat, a town with a few basic guesthouses. This also marked the end of my journey through Cambodia and brought me to Thailand for the fifth time.

 

Monday, 4 May 2015

071 CYCLING THAILAND (4) - APPLYING FOR A NEW PASSPORT



71 THAILAND (4)

Bangkok - Cambodia

 338 Kilometres - 7 Days

26 April - 3 May 2015

 

26-27 April - Mae Sot – Bangkok - By bus - 31 km

My main priority was reaching the South African Embassy in Bangkok to apply for a new passport. During that time, Thailand only granted a two-week stay at land borders and, as I had to apply for a new passport and cycle to the nearest border, I knew I couldn't waste any time. I hastily packed up and cycled to the bus station but, to my dismay, I discovered that the next bus was only available at 18:50. After purchasing the ticket, I returned to the hotel, left my bike in their care, and went on a walkabout. However, it soon became too hot and I decided to return to the hotel.

The bus ride to Bangkok was comfortable and relatively pleasant. I must have drifted off to sleep as I suddenly woke up at the ungodly hour of 3 a.m. The bus arrived at the Bangkok bus terminal, and I quickly got off to retrieve my bicycle and panniers. The bus station was situated about 10 - 15 kilometres out of town and surrounded by road works as a new metro line was being constructed. The previous night's rain had made the roads wet and muddy as I ventured into the darkness, hoping the muddy puddles did not conceal any open utility holes. One could easily disappear down one of them and never be seen again.

I had assumed that cycling into Bangkok would be easy at such an early hour, but the lack of streetlights made the ride somewhat nerve-wracking. However, the streets were unusually quiet, with only the homeless, drunk and the genuinely bizarre out at that time. I couldn't help but chuckle, realising that I was out there too and could easily have fallen into one or more of those categories.

 

28-30 April - Bangkok

The next day was a busy one at the Embassy as I organised my new passport. It almost felt like returning to work, filling in forms and paying money. I haven't done such a thing in a long time and couldn't say I liked it.

Suddenly, I noticed men in suits walking, briefcases in hand, talking on mobile phones. I overheard people making deals and their body language and tone of voice made my stomach turn. I felt blessed that I wasn't sitting at that table. I walked right past, licking my ice cream, smiling, and thinking, "Been there, done that". I felt grateful for being homeless and having only my iron horse and a tent. However, I might change my mind about that statement while pedalling up the next mountain pass.

 

1 May - Bangkok – Chachoengsao - 85 kilometres

The new passport was estimated to take five months! Since my passport had only two empty pages left and I had five months to spare, I decided to explore the rest of Southeast Asia once again. It took me almost an entire day to escape Bangkok's vast and busy city limits.

 

2 May - Chachoengsao - Sa Kaeo - 125 kilometres

It was another hot day but, thankfully, clouds gathered, and it started raining around midday. I was glad for the respite and sought shelter at a roadside restaurant. The lady didn't speak English, and I didn't speak Thai, but I could order a good cup of coffee from the menu on the wall.

I took my time drinking it while waiting for the storm to pass before continuing to Sa Kaeo, about 30 kilometres away. A building resembling a hotel made me stop to inquire about a room. Although there were no English signs, the receptionist used a calculator to indicate the room rate.

 

3 May - Sa Kaeo, Thailand – Saophoan (Sisophon), Cambodia - 107 kilometres

Upon arriving at the Po Pet border, one left Thailand's relatively organised environment and entered a somewhat more chaotic Cambodia. The border crossing was particularly hectic, as it was part of the Border Market, requiring one to navigate through the maze of stalls before finally reaching the immigration office.

 

Monday, 27 April 2015

070 MYANMAR (1) - LOSING A PASSPORT



MYANMAR (1) - LOSING A PASSPORT
764 Kilometres – 27 Days
30 March – 25 April 2015



MAP


 

 

Mae Sot, Thailand - Myawaddy, Myanmar - 10 km

Mae Sot, Thailand, was a mere five-kilometre bike ride from the Friendship Bridge, which served as the border control point between Thailand and Myanmar. Since I already had a visa, I only needed a stamp in my passport.

It always amazes me how crossing a line on a map could lead to such a vastly different environment. The people, clothing, food, currency, and language were all different from what I was used to in Thailand. After completing customs and immigration procedures, my next task was withdrawing Myanmar currency from an ATM. The exchange rate was 1,000 kyats to 1 USD, and I had to buy a new wallet to store all the notes.

Myanmar surprised me with its unique culture. Men still wore the traditional longyi, many had red-stained teeth from chewing paan, and almost everyone used face paint.

The weather was scorching, around 40°C, and by the time my business was done, it was already past midday. I thought it a good idea to find accommodation instead of heading over the mountains in the midday heat, but this decision ultimately proved to be wrong.

Once checked into a hotel, the owner informed me that the road out of Myawaddy over the pass was in poor condition, narrow, and steep. This meant that traffic in and out of Myawaddy was only allowed on alternate days. Unfortunately, the traffic from Myawaddy to Pha-An was that day, meaning I had to wait a day before getting underway. Little did I know this was just the beginning of a problem-studded visit to Myanmar.

 

Myawaddy

I woke to a racket from the street below and hurried out the door to check what was happening. Following the clanging and drumming, I encountered a ceremony filled with colour and spectacle.

During the summer school break, boys enter the Buddhist Order for a week or more. These young boys, dressed like princes to imitate Lord Buddha, a prince until setting out upon his spiritual path, were carried shoulder-high through the streets to the temple. According to my understanding, they spent the entire day being carried around on the shoulders of their older male relatives. The procession included cars and trucks with deafening music, followed by what seemed like the entire village on foot, chucking popcorn and sweets at the youngsters. It was all rather festive, and I felt fortunate to have caught this unique ceremony.

Food in a foreign country becomes an adventure, which is undoubtedly true in Myanmar. ‘Wet thar dote htoe’, or pork-on-a-stick, consists of pork offal, which can be anything from pig lungs and intestines to tongue. It’s cooked and eaten fondue style in soy sauce and skewered onto a bamboo stick. Wet thar dote htoe was almost always eaten on the streets while huddling on small kindergarten plastic stools and dipping the skewered meat in the bubbling, black sauce—no ordinary meal.

 

Myawaddy – Pha-An

After the fear of God was put into me regarding the road to Pha-An, I weakened and took the bus. Their concern was justified as the road was narrow and in poor condition, to put it mildly. With the route only open to traffic every second day, buses, taxis and trucks formed a continuous line over the mountain. Though traffic moved in the same direction, the road was narrow, and the corners tight. Three-point turns were required in places.

I subsequently discovered that a new road had been built (not indicated on the map), but most people preferred the old route as the new highway was considered costly due to toll fees. Experience should have told me to refrain from listening to advice regarding whether a person could cycle a particular route.

Hpa-An had a plethora of guesthouses, so locating accommodation was straightforward. Moreover, one knew Myanmar was a hot country as clay jars filled with water were scattered around town, something I last experienced in Sudan.

 

Pha-An – Thaton - 50 km

In the early morning, my clothes were already clinging to my sweat-soaked body as I cycled further north from Pha-An. The route between Pha-An and Thaton was fascinating. I shared the way with motorcycle traders loaded to the hilt, bicycle taxis with sidecars, and three-wheel motorbikes carting passengers to and from their destinations. Although the road was considerably better than the previous day, the way remained narrow. Nobody seemed in a hurry. The entire route was lined with stalls selling paan, snacks, and rice dishes, but mainly paan.

Upon arrival in Thaton, I planned to visit the renowned mountaintop pagoda. However, I soon realised that the pagoda was in the next village. I wasn't too bothered, as my early arrival allowed me to spend a relaxing day at the guesthouse and explore this fascinating and unfamiliar country.

 

Thaton – Kyaikto - 68 km

I tried to get underway before the sun started beating down. This relatively early start allowed me to witness barefoot monks walking the streets, collecting rice and food from villagers. The road was surprisingly flat and in good condition but extremely narrow. There wasn't a great deal one could do but stick as close to the side as possible, and the mirror came in handy. As soon as I spotted a truck, I veered off the road, allowing it to pass.

In Kyaikto, I bunked down in Happy Guest House, and my 16,000 kyats got me a comfortable, air-conditioned room with breakfast. The plan was to go to the mountaintop pagoda, but the oppressing heat kept me indoors, as I was in no mood to cycle to where trucks headed up the mountain.

 

Kyaikto – Bago - 90 km

April is the hottest month in Myanmar, and the ride to Bago, the one-time capital of Burma, was in blistering heat. Even though I left early (according to me), the heat soon rose from the road while also baking down from above. Mercifully, the road was dotted with numerous places to fill up with water. Still, it virtually remained impossible to stay hydrated. But, again, the road was surprisingly good, albeit slightly narrow.

Once in Bago, one couldn't miss the bright green Emperor Hotel along the main road. I'm sure there were better places, but the manager's helpfulness made me stay put. They should have called it the Everest Hotel, as the stairs were nearly vertical. Luckily, a large storeroom on the ground floor made it easy to store the bicycle, and the kind staff carried my panniers upstairs. They must have seen I was in no mood for those stairs.

 

Bago – Yangon - 90 km

Determined to escape as much of the sweltering weather as possible, it was early morning when I stuck my hat upon my head and headed to Yangon, the former capital, once referred to as Rangoon and frequently confused as the current capital.

Cycling was along a ‘highway’, for lack of a better word, and the road came with two lanes in both directions and a shoulder. The shoulder was bumpy with a few potholes, but it was a shoulder, nevertheless. The shorter route appeared to lack a shoulder and, with all the trucks, the larger road seemed a better choice. Although I expected traffic, I didn’t anticipate it to be as heavy as it turned out.

Cycling the last 20 kilometres into Yangon was the stuff of nightmares. Even on a Sunday, the traffic remained horrendous, and finding the Ocean Pearl Inn was challenging. The hotel wasn't the cheapest, but I was thankful for the comfort of an air-conditioned room.

Discovering my passport missing came as an utter shock. I searched through all my bags and even called the Emperor Hotel in Bago, but to no avail. I surmised the passport fell out when taking a picture or buying water.

By evening, I met John from New Zealand, who was staying at the Ocean Pearl. He'd rented a car and driver and planned to visit Bago the following morning. When he offered me the chance to join the ride to Bago, I jumped at the opportunity, thinking I could recognise some of my many watering holes and ask if they had found a passport.

 

Yangon – Bago – Yangon - By car

By morning, I set off with John and the driver to Bago. Even though I was keeping an eye out for familiar landmarks, everything looked completely different from the back seat of a car and driving in the opposite direction. Once in Bago, John dropped me at the Emperor Hotel. I thanked him and went in search of my passport.

The manager at the Emperor Hotel was extremely accommodating. He drove me from police station to police station and from immigration office to immigration office. As none of the staff spoke English, he acted as my translator. Unfortunately, the town lost power amid all the drama, and the police couldn't type the letter I needed.

We had a delicious lunch while waiting for the electricity to be restored. It’s amazing how good food can be when eaten with the locals. After lunch, the power was still out and I used the opportunity to investigate the enormous Shwethalyaung Buddha, measuring 55 metres in length and 17 metres in height, and constructed in 994. Surprisingly, this gigantic Buddha was overgrown and only rediscovered in 1881. According to local lore, contractors stumbled upon it while building the Yangon–Bago railway line. Today, a vast canopy keeps it safe from the elements, making photography tricky.

The power was still out upon my return, so we took the letters to a pavement typist. By the time we returned to the immigration office, the street had transformed into a market selling everything from fruit to meat and spices.

Once the letters were signed, the officers instructed me to take the paperwork to the Myanmar Travel Tourist in Yangon. Both letters were in Burmese, so I did not know the content. Finally, the hotel manager, Tun-Tun, organised a taxi for my return trip to Yangon. Phew, what a day!

 

Yangon

The following day, I looked for the address I was given in Bago. The address was written in Burmese, so I had to ask around, and it turned out that it was the immigration office. It would have been much easier if they had just told me that in the first place. Once at the immigration office, they sent me to get my picture taken. Unfortunately, on my return, I discovered the office was closed for lunch. Despite all this, I eventually received a letter that contained my Myanmar visa number and entry date. The officials told me that this letter was as good as a visa, and that I shouldn't have any trouble crossing the border. However, this only resolved my visa issue, not my passport problem.

Meanwhile, I received an email from the South African Embassy in Bangkok stating that there was no South African Embassy in Myanmar. They advised me to approach the UK Embassy to obtain an emergency travel document. Off I trundled to the UK Embassy, only to find that they were out to lunch. How frustrating and exhausting!

After lunch, I returned to the UK Embassy and explained my predicament. This time, I was requested to have my letters (given to me by the police in Bago) translated. It was an interesting experience since typists, translators, and photocopiers were stationed on the pavement down a small alley. I had to wait in line with others and finally got my turn. With the translated document, I set off to an internet café to make copies to send to the South African Embassy.

The next day, I was advised to print out the email from the South African Embassy, which sounded more straightforward than it proved to be in reality. I needed to access my Yahoo account, but the code sent never came through. By the time all was done, the embassy was closed, and after lunch, I discovered the passport photos were the wrong size. There was nothing to do but return to the shop and make new ones. As Mark Twain said: "The truth can be stranger than fiction."

After filling out all the necessary forms, attaching the correct size photos and paying the required fee, the lady at the embassy was unsure how to proceed with this unusual request. She planned to contact the South African Embassy in Bangkok for assistance and promised to pass on any relevant information via email. We agreed I would remain in Yangon for the next few days if additional information were required.

 

Yangon

A walking tour of Yangon was a great way to spend my time. The city is home to many beautiful old colonial buildings, some of which have been renovated, while others are still being restored or are awaiting renovation.

I placed an advertisement in the newspaper with a reward, which would not have been possible without the help of an exceedingly kind Burmese man I met at the newspaper.

If you're looking for the best time to explore Yangon, it's at sunset. The streets become crowded with food vendors and markets that spill onto the bus lane. Each shop blasts music louder than the one next door, creating a riot of sound. At the same time, pedestrians push and shove their way along the crowded pavement. This was my favourite time to be out and about. Vendors were frying, cooking, and steaming delicious food, from yummy samosas to pork offal on skewers.

 

Yangon

The passport problem had, by then, become a royal pain in the ass. Still, it wasn't the end of the world; all I could do was wait. I wasn't the first person in the world to lose a passport, and I sure wouldn't be the last. So, waiting a few days made no difference to me.

The problem was that this happened right before Thingyan, the Burmese New Year and Water Festival, a festival celebrated over a four-to-five-day period. The phrase "son of a bitch" left my mouth with alarming frequency since I came across this little discovery. I couldn't have made this up, even if I tried.

In the meantime, Yangon was preparing for the festival, and it was time for me to move along. The embassy was closed during the festivities, so there was no point in sticking around. It was best to resume my travels while Myanmar celebrated the New Year.

 

Yangon – Okkan - 111 km

I didn't leave early and the roads were already congested by the time I got underway. I decided to take a different route to avoid the hectic traffic and although a roundabout way, my chosen path appeared less crowded. Unfortunately, once on Route 2 North, the road was extremely narrow and uneven. Coupled with heavy traffic, it made for a hair-raising experience. Fortunately, buses and trucks (even though moving at high speed) seemed accustomed to slower traffic, including bicycles, oxcarts, tricycles, and scooters. The only good thing was the shade, which made the ride slightly more comfortable.

I picked up 30,000 kyats ($30). The money must have blown out of someone's pocket as it consisted of three, 10,000 neatly-folded notes. Being a considerable sum for villagers, I felt terrible for the person who lost it.

In Okkan, the Okkan Hotel was frightfully expensive at 30,000 kyats but I put the money I picked up towards my accommodation.

 

Okkan – Gyobingauk - 90 km

Following breakfast, which was included in the room rate, the road headed north. But, again, the road was narrow, and the traffic was scary.

The water festival hadn't yet started, but already people were throwing water, which brought relief from the relentless heat. I swear, even the bitumen was melting.

Pyay was roughly 170 kilometres away, and Gyobingauk was conveniently midway, making cycling two relatively short days.

The Paradise Guest House was along a dirt road in Gyobingauk. The establishment wasn't much of a paradise but, surprisingly, it had air conditioning and, at $10, I didn't complain. Even if not super effective, the air conditioning kept the room slightly cool.

 

Gyobingauk – Pyay - 90 km

Due to the holidays, the difference in traffic was substantial, and I barely encountered any buses or trucks. Being the start of the Water Festival, kids were having a blast and, therefore, I couldn’t escape getting wet. Practically everyone I encountered was armed with a bucket or water gun, and in the heat becoming wet was a blessing.

You can imagine the kids' delight as they saw me coming along. They ran as fast as their little legs could carry them to fill up their containers, and I was thoroughly drenched by the end of the day. It felt like I got a double dose, but they kept me cool to Pyay, where the well-known Myat Lodging House was my abode of choice. It was a tad of a dump and not cheap.

 

Pyay

The previous day was Thingyan Eve, and on this day the actual festival started. Being a wet affair, taking any pictures became virtually impossible. Bandstands with hosepipes and huge speakers were constructed along the main road. No one could pass without being blasted both by water and sound. One couldn't even think of taking a side road, as young children manned the smaller bandstands and were even more vicious. I spent an additional day in Pyay enjoying the festivities. Everyone was having a blast, whether they were walking or riding in the back of pickup trucks, getting totally soaked.

Pyay

With my inability to wait, I left Pyay in a spray of water. Not much further, the bike's back wheel started making an almighty noise. I continued but the noise became progressively worse. Although I sprayed a generous amount of lubricant, it was to no avail. Ultimately, I returned to Pyay, hoping to find a bike shop. Finding a bike shop was wishful thinking as everything was firmly shut and would remain closed for the following four days. I was convinced the problem was the back hub. The squeaky sound had miraculously disappeared when the bike was dry.

I had no patience to wait until the festival was over and was convinced the problem would reoccur once it got wet. One could take a ride to Bagan, which had more bike shops, but it was an expensive option. The positive was that it would get me off the road, as I didn't care for the motorbike riders with bottles of whiskey stuck in the back of their pants.

 

Pyay - Bagan (By car)

The unthinkable was done, and I arranged a ride to Bagan. In hindsight, taking the ride was stupid, as little did I know this was the last day of the water festival. I was under the impression the festival lasted four more days. I was annoyed that the owner of the Myat was dishonest and gave me the wrong information, as he wanted to drive me to Bagan at quite a hefty fee.

The water festival made for a slow ride to Bagan, where accommodation was at the View Point Inn, a convenient place with many options and even a dorm.

Bagan turned out most intriguing and (to me, at least) fell in the same jaw-dropping category as Angkor Wat in Cambodia and Petra in Jordon. Between the ninth and 13th centuries, Bagan's kings commissioned more than 4,000 Buddhist temples, of which around 2,000 remain. This temple-studded plain stretched 40 square kilometres across central Myanmar.

The following day was New Year's Day, and all the madness of the previous days was forgotten. Everything was quiet and back to normal, apart from everything being closed. I set out by bicycle in the morning to explore the temple area. Still, the weather soon became unbearable and it was best to retreat to the coolness of a room. The sunset over Bagan didn't quite meet expectations or come with any of the anticipated beautiful colours.

One more day was spent in Bagan to snap a few pictures, but the light stayed the same. My search to find a bicycle shop was unsuccessful, and the single person I found couldn't find anything wrong. All I could do was hope the bike would hold up until I reach Mandalay. I was doubly annoyed with taking the ride as I missed out on a large part of the route. Add poor quality pictures, and it felt like I could do no right—all in all, a trying time in Myanmar.

 

Bagan - Myingyan - 55 km

Mandalay was about 160 kilometres from Bagan and Myingyan, conveniently midway. After such a long time off the bike, I should have been a ball of energy, but instead I felt lethargic and couldn't get going. A room at the Kaung Kaung Guesthouse at the entrance to the town was home that night. However, the rooms were pricy, and I was unhappy with the lack of Wi-Fi. Apparently, "Have Wi-Fi" didn't translate into "Have working Wi-Fi".

 

Myingyan – Mandalay - 110 km

The route to Mandalay was hot, dry, and dusty, and the going was slow. As I wondered if something was wrong, the road turned out to be a false flat as the second half of the day felt downhill. With the mercury hovering around 40°C, it felt like it was only me and the mad dogs out in the midday heat. Around midday, nearly all truck and motorbike drivers pulled over at shelters to have a snooze. I wanted to get to Mandalay so I put my head down, and soldiered on.

By late afternoon, I reached the end of the road to Mandalay. Mandalay wasn't as romantic-looking as Kipling made it out to be. Instead, it was a dusty, sprawling city. The cheapest bed in town was undoubtedly at the AD1 Hotel, situated amid the onion market. The market was an area where one could still get that old, timeless Asian feel, and as my $13 room came with an en-suite bathroom as well as air conditioning, I was more than happy.

 

Mandalay – Yangon - By bus

One more day was spent in Mandalay, and then it was time to retreat to Yangon to see if my passport had turned up. My visa time was running out fast, and I took a bus to Yangon. The bus was cheap at $10 and amazingly comfortable, with reclining seats and air conditioning. We hardly ever stopped and rolled into Yangon at around 5h30 p.m. Even the short cycle from the bus station to the hotel was a nightmare, as the traffic was horrendous and the streets dark.

 

Yangon

Sadly, no passport turned up, but the good news was that my previous passport (which I never discarded as it contained my American visa) was still valid! I assumed being issued a new passport would automatically cancel the old one. Thank goodness, the old passport still had two blank pages, and thus, there was no need for an emergency travel document. Discussing the situation with the UK Embassy, they agreed to refund the fee paid. Luck was finally starting to turn in my favour.

I bought a ticket on the first available bus to the Thailand border. Still, the next bus was only in two days as the traffic to and from the border was only every second day. Furthermore, being a night bus meant I would arrive at the border the day my visa expired, making it out of the country by the skin of my teeth. It sure seemed I had reached the end of my bad luck.

 

Yangon - Mywaddy (Thailand border)

Expecting the same bus as Mandalay to Yangon, and finding the bus precisely the opposite was an unpleasant surprise. The seats were extremely narrow and more suitable for tiny Burmese than bulky Europeans. Two people could barely fit next to one another.

The ride was uncomfortable and it was impossible to sleep in such a confined space. The lack of toilet facilities meant one couldn't drink water as the bus seldom stopped. The drive through the night was slow and, by daybreak, we had only made it to Hpa-An, from where the trip went from bad to worse. Shortly after a breakfast stop, the bus proceeded onto the mountain road. The narrow road with steep and exposed drop-offs into the valley below didn't instil a great deal of confidence. The route was so narrow and the corners so tight, the bus couldn't always make the turn and had to do three-point turns – actually, more like six-point turns.

Close to the top, roadworks caused lengthy delays. This wasn't your typical roadworks, as all work was done by hand and supplies were carried in woven baskets dangling from shoulder poles. The wait was therefore an exceedingly long one before eventually being waved through. Not significantly beyond that, and while negotiating an incredibly tight corner, one enormous bang came from under the bus and almost scared us all to death. As we were mere inches from the cliff's edge, people let out shrill screeches and instinctively moved to the opposite side of the bus. And I thought they were all asleep.

It turned out not the tyre, and the driver and his cronies crawled under the bus. We were on our way an hour or so later—this could have been in the 1800s. We were scarcely on our way, or the bus stopped at a temple where monks handed out drinks in exchange for donations.

We crawled into Myawaddy long past midday. As foreseen, clearing immigration took longer than usual as I left the country with a different passport. However, once everything was sorted, I was immensely relieved to cycle off to Mae Sot, Thailand.

So ended a problem-studded ride in Myanmar. It would be six months before I returned and could cycle to India. It was also the only time I managed to cross into India at the Tamu border, a notoriously problematic border that requires a permit. My priority was to get to the South African Embassy in Bangkok to apply for a new passport, as I believed the process would take a few months.

Tuesday, 31 March 2015

069 CYCLING THAILAND (3) - EN ROUTE TO MYANMAR


69 THAILAND (3)
Bangkok – Mae Sot - Myanmar Border
572 Kilometres – 15 Days
16 March – 29 March 2015


 

  

16 - 20 March - Colombo, Sri Lanka – Bangkok, Thailand

I completed my cycle around the island of Sri Lanka upon reaching Colombo. The following day, I booked a flight to Bangkok, Thailand, mainly to secure a visa for Myanmar. Despite my flight departing at 7:20 a.m., my taxi could only pick me up at 3:00 a.m. for some strange reason. Nonetheless, I arrived early at the airport, which gave me ample time to wrap my bike box.

A few hours after the flight touched down in Bangkok, a taxi soon dropped me off in the popular tourist area of Banglamphu, also known as ‘Backpackerville’. I was pleased to see that the area around Khao San Road was just as lively as I remembered it from 6 years ago, packed with vendors selling everything from clothing to fake IDs and even deep-fried scorpions on a stick. I settled into a room at a guesthouse along Phra Athit Road and made it home for the next few days.

By morning, I submitted my passport to the Myanmar Embassy to apply for a visa. The process took a few days, so I took it easy and explored the city. I relied on the Skytrain to get to and from the city centre, where I hoped to find a new phone charger. I always enjoyed using public transport in foreign cities as it made me feel like I was learning something while getting around. The following day was spent visiting a few temples as I thought the temples of Thailand were exquisite. They are not merely old but immensely colourful and ornate.

One can’t be in Bangkok and not pop into Wat Pho (The Temple of the Reclining Buddha). Famed for its giant reclining Buddha measuring 46 metres in length and 15 metres in height, it’s impressive by anyone’s standards. Unfortunately, the weather was sweltering, and the place was swarming with tourists making me exit the overcrowded hall in a hurry.

The way back led past numerous mobile carts selling various goods, including second-hand false teeth, and I thought that when someone sells second-hand false teeth, no one can accuse them of not trying.

A few days later, I collected the Myanmar visa and was ready to cycle out of Bangkok. The Mae Sot-Myawaddy border was one of the few open borders between Thailand and Myanmar and was roughly a week’s cycle away. The route was sprinkled with interesting sights, so I was in no hurry.

I used my time to get a leg wax and pedicure and, by evening, sauntered along the river to take a few pictures. Unfortunately, I didn’t come across much to capture, except the old fort along Phra Athit Road. So, instead, I had a beer and a bite to eat in the alleyways.

 

21-22 March - Bangkok – Ayutthaya - 90 km

Cycling out of Bangkok was effortless but slow due to the roadworks. Eventually, I reached a rural path next to a canal that led me through a typical Thai countryside with ornate temples and bright green rice paddies. The weather was scorching, and I was relieved to arrive at Ayutthaya, which offered affordable accommodation. 

Despite arriving late, I made my way to the famous ruins of Ayutthaya, now recognised as a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Ayutthaya was established in 1350 and served as the country's capital until it was destroyed by the Burmese Army in 1767. At its height, Ayutthaya was one of the largest and wealthiest cities in the East. This era also marked the peak of Thai regional dominance.

Today, the ruins cover a vast area, and I spent an extra day exploring some of the outlying ruins in Ayutthaya. The following morning, I took my bicycle and explored more old ruins and temples.

 

23 March - Ayutthaya – Lopburi - 65 km

Lopburi, a small city with impressive ruins, was a short and pleasurable bike ride away. NooM Guesthouse, which offers budget rooms, is ideally located and caters to backpackers. Since Lopburi is small, nearly all attractions are within easy walking distance.   

Later, I took a short stroll to the Prang Sam Yot temple, home to a troop of resident monkeys. According to Hindu-Buddhist beliefs, monkeys have divine connections and shouldn't be harmed. Despite being a menace, they are fed instead of chased away. Tourists love the experience, but shopkeepers constantly battle as the monkeys grab anything left unattended.

 

24 March - Lopburi – Nakhon Sawan - 131 km

The day was overcast, which made for pleasant biking, and the threatening clouds didn't bring any rain. With the weather in my favour, I continued towards Nakhon Sawan, where I found the P.A. Place Hotel. The hotel had convenient, motel-style rooms on the ground floor and was located near restaurants, making it an easy choice.

Although Nakhon Sawan didn't have many attractions, it was situated at the confluence of the Ping and Nan Rivers, which merge to form the mighty Chao Phraya River.

 

25-26 March - Nakhon Sawan – Kamphaeng Phet (Kamphaengphet) - 126 km

The weather was partly cloudy, so I continued biking towards Kamphaeng Phet, famous for its impressive ruins and another UNESCO World Heritage Site. On my way, I met Mel and Lee, who were travelling by car and stopped to chat. Mel is from Australia, and Lee from Thailand. They have made Chang Mai their home after three years of cycle touring.

I couldn't resist buying some rice cooked in bamboo from a stall I came across, and it turned out to be the best rice I've ever tasted. Once I arrived in Kamphaeng Phet, I opted for the Three J Guesthouse, which had some unique and interesting rooms.

The following day, I spent my time exploring the historical areas and buildings of Kamphaeng Phet, which date back to the 14th century. Running around the old ruins like a famous explorer was fun but, unfortunately, I lost my phone in the process.

 

27 March - Kamphaeng Phet – Tak - 70 km

The day marked my eighth year of cycle touring. During this time, I have witnessed countless magnificent sights, met incredible people, and tried some unusual food. I have crossed mountains and deserts, and on many days, questioned my sanity.

The journey from Phet to Tak was, however, enjoyable as the route followed the Ping River. Although it was a relatively short day, a significant mountain range loomed ahead on the way to Mae Sot and the Myanmar border. Therefore, Tak was an excellent place to overnight before embarking on the final 90 kilometres to Myanmar.

 

28-29 March - Tak – Mae Sot - 90 km

I left Tak without having breakfast, assuming I would find a place to eat during the day. Unfortunately, I couldn’t find a suitable location, and the day became a slow and challenging ride over the mountains. As I approached the top of the first big climb, I was disheartened to see yet another incline. Luckily, the weather changed, and the overcast conditions made biking easier. Still, I wheezed my way up the steep inclines.

Finally, I spotted a temple atop a hill, which usually marked the high point. Cars were honking as they passed, and I assumed it was a good luck thing. Exhausted, I was relieved to see the way down. The descent was equally steep, and I sped down and into the border town of Mae Sot, reaching speeds of almost 60 km/h.

Despite being tired and hungry, I managed to find a budget room at the First Hotel, which seemed to be the oldest hotel in Mae Sot. The rooms were huge and decorated with beautiful Burmese teak furniture. Even the corridors and staircase were adorned with wooden carvings. The next day, I spent the best part of the day doing laundry and eating more than two days' worth of food.

Mae Sot is a fascinating border town with a diverse population. I had lunch at Khrua Canadian, where Dave and his wife had been running the restaurant for the past 17 years. Dave was not only knowledgeable about food but also possessed a wealth of information.

 

31 March - Mae Sot, Thailand - Myawaddy, Myanmar - 10 km

Mae Sot, Thailand, was just a five-kilometre bike ride from the Friendship Bridge, which served as the border control point between Thailand and Myanmar. Since I already had a visa, I only needed a stamp in my passport.

It always amazed me how crossing a line on a map could lead to such a vastly different environment. The people, clothing, food, currency, and language were all different from what I was used to in Thailand. After completing customs and immigration procedures, the next task was to withdraw Myanmar currency from an ATM. The exchange rate was 1,000 kyats to 1 USD, and I had to buy a new wallet to store all the notes.

Once again, Myanmar surprised me with its unique culture. Men still wore the traditional longyi, many had red-stained teeth from chewing paan, and almost everyone used face paint.