073 CYCLING THAILAND (5) - WAITING FOR A NEW PASSPORT

73 THAILAND (5)
866 Kilometres – 12 Days
25 May – 7 June 2015

MAP

PHOTOS

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

The Cambodian immigration office was a 10 kilometres ride across the Meteuk River and a short ride to Thailand Immigration. It must’ve been the end of the dry season as the rainy weather continued throughout the day. With rain pelting down, I cycled the 100 kilometres to Trat, which sported a few basic guesthouses.

This ended my ride through Cambodia and brought me to centrally located Thailand for the 5th time.

 

26 May - Trat – Klaeng - 136 kilometres

On emerging from my windowless room, I found it still rainy, rain that continued throughout the day. At least the temperature subsided, which made pushing on to Klaeng easy. I passed a few interesting looking places, but with the rain bucketing down, I thought it best to keep going. Every day has a story, and on this day, I wished toilets were spaced at regular intervals; unfortunately, that sadly wasn’t the case. Without going into too much detail I’ll only mention that I was happy to reach Klaeng and find accommodation at the intersection. Time to rinse those cycling pants! If ever you were inclined to envy my life, this day was not one to envy.

 

27 May - Klaeng – Chon Buri - 108 kilometres

Thank goodness the rain abated and the weather was back to the usually hot and humid conditions; fortunately, the ride from Klaeng to Chon Buri was shorter. It’s amazing how quickly an accident can happen. A truck overturned seconds in front of me. Imagine being next to a vehicle when that happens – you’ll be pancake-flat. Amazingly enough, the driver crawled out and appeared uninjured. Not much further, another accident occurred; this time a scooter and a car.

All these accidents reminded me of a cycle tourist killed in Turkey not too long before and I was, once again, acutely aware of how vulnerable one was on the road. While travelling, I often made the mistake of assuming all countries have the same traffic rules. Although traffic rules are primarily international, I always remind myself that each country interprets those rules differently. For example, the fact that the road had a good shoulder didn’t make it a bicycle lane and I did my best to stick as close to the edge of the road as possible. Still, I considered staying safe a team effort.

 

28 - 29 May - Chon Buri – Samut Prakan - 85 kilometres

Fortunately, my route followed the highway and soon reached a turn-off heading along the coast on a minor road. However, the day turned out frustrating. The intention was to find accommodation on the outskirts of Bangkok from where the plan was to take a bus or taxi into the city the following day. I desperately needed a new front pannier, as the old one was held together by duct tape and I kept losing things.

At the time Thailand only granted a two-week stay at land borders making it almost impossible to reach the Thailand-Malaysia border in time. This lack of time made me want to shoot into Bangkok, buy the pannier and get out as quickly as possible. However, finding a budget room was more difficult than expected and although there were plenty of hotels, most were expensive. Eventually, a love motel had to do and came complete with a convenient chair. Ultimately, it might’ve been better to bike into Bangkok, do my business and ride out.

 

29 May - Samut Prakan – Oena Resort, Khet Bang Khun Thian - 40 kilometres

A taxi ride took me into the city where the panniers (only sold in pairs) were found. A new lens cap was also purchased after losing mine on the Cambodian boat trip (long story) and, therefore after midday before returning to the motel. Rounding the northern tip of the Gulf of Thailand, there’s no avoiding the city limits. I soon found myself amidst the worst traffic imaginable. Frustrated, I called it a day and thought it better to continue in the morning.

 

30 May - Oena Resort – Samut Songkhram - 85 kilometres

The day turned out quite an interesting ride. Firstly, I didn’t plan to go to Sumat Songkran but turned in anyhow where I set out to the well-known Railway Market.

The Maeklong Market is a unique place. At first glance the market looked like an ordinary market, sheltered by low-hanging awnings/umbrellas. However, on closer inspection, one noticed you’re walking on train rails. Every time a train came, stallholders hurriedly packed up and made space for the train to pass. Unfortunately, no trains came as I understood repair works were being carried out on the line.

Being weekend, I instead visited the floating market and was pleasantly surprised. The market is immensely popular with people from the city and I never saw a single westerner. The food was excellent and served directly from the boats.

At a mere 50 Bhat, one could take a canal tour, including visiting a few of the temples along the river. Although everything was in Thai, fellow visitors were eager to translate and explain the various temples. By the time we returned to the market the time was past 6 p.m. and the market was a hive of activity.

 

31 May - Samut Songkram – Cha-Am - 95 kilometres

Although I’d biked the stretch between Bangkok and Malaysia on two previous occasions, pedalling along a coastal/scenic route remained pleasant. The road was pan-flat and ran past numerous salt farms and fishing villages. The road even came with a bike lane. On reaching Cha-Am, the weather came in, making an excellent excuse to find a room.

 

1 June - Cha-Am

So lovely was it; staying another day came easily allowing a long walk, and short jog. I did laundry and with so much time on my hands, went to the hairdresser, and at the same time, got a mani- and pedicure.

 

2-3 June - Cha-Am – Prachuap Khiri Khan - 125 kilometres

From Cha-Am a flat and easy cycle led past plenty of roadside stalls selling fruit and other snacks. Shortly before Prachuap, the weather came in, and although going flat out there was no escaping the rain. In Prachuap finding a place to stay was easy as there were plenty. Again, staying another night came easy in Prachuap.

 

4 June - Prachuap Kiri Khan – Bang Saphan (Nipa beach bungalows) - 93 kilometres

From Prachuap to Bang Saphan is an incredibly scenic stretch and I took my time heading south. For the first time in many months, I met another cyclist - an Italian guy who lived in Cambodia and was biking to Italy, although I thought he was going in the wrong direction. Thailand is famous for its beaches and one could hardly believe there were still long stretches of white sandy beaches without a soul in sight. Even the “resorts” were low key and tucked away behind bougainvillaea and frangipanis with only a few hammocks strung between palm trees. By the time I spotted Nipa Beach Bungalows right across from the beach, I was ready to call it a day.

 

5-6 June - Bang Saphan – Sea Beach Bungalows - 99 kilometres

Again, the ride was glorious, but a little hillier than the previous days. The idea was to head to Chumphon as I ran out of visa time and needed to get out of the country asap.

Shortly before Chumphon however, Wua Laen a coastal village with a lovely beach as well as bungalows lured me in. On stopping to enquire, another cyclist, arriving from the south, was also looking for a spot. Peter Yoong from Malaysia was a lovely, friendly guy and we rented rooms at Sea Beach Bungalows. While chatting on the little veranda, the Italian chap who met earlier that day also pulled in. At first he didn’t recognise me with my clothes on (LOL).

That evening the three of us grabbed a bite to eat and a pleasant evening was spent in the company of other cyclists. Peter turned out a Warmshowers host and kindly invited me to stay at his place once in Malaysia.

The following morning was a lovely day and once again, I stayed an extra day, knowing full well that it would be impossible to reach the border in time by doing so. Still, remaining an additional day was worth it, and I took a long walk and a swim before having breakfast.

 

7-8 June - Hat Yai, Thailand – Alor Setar, Malaysia - 105 kilometres

I’d no option but to take a bus to the border. I didn’t feel bad doing so as I’d already cycled that stretch on a previous occasion. A 30-kilometre ride took me to the bus terminal in Chumphon where busses ran to Hat Yai. From Hat Yai an easy 55-kilometre cycle led to the border and the crossing into Malaysia was effortless. I wish all border crossings could be this smooth. Not only was entry uncomplicated, but one automatically was given a 90-day stay and I loved Malaysia for that. Another 60 kilometres down the drag I rolled into Alor Setar gateway to Langkawi, not that I planned on going to Langkawi- I only wanted to find accommodation.

No country is perfect; but some are closer to paradise than others. The food in Malaysia came with a good dose of Malay, Chinese and Indian, and I was in my element and thus placed Malaysia close to the top of the paradise list. I, unknowingly, found a room right next to the night market and was spoilt for choice! I scoffed down more than one Roti canai as they were a mere RM1 each and retired with a full belly.

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

Upon arriving at Po Pet’s Thai/Cambodian border, one left organised Thailand and entered a slightly more chaotic Cambodia. The border crossing was made even more so as it formed part of the Border Market. One needed to weave through the thousands of stalls before reaching the immigration office.

Once in Cambodia, the route headed east in the direction of Siem Reap. Despite not being exciting, an excellent paved road led past stilted houses and dry rice paddies. I was going like the clappers, trying to out-cycle the approaching storm, wondering if it would be possible to cycle to Saophoan without getting soaked.

 

4 May - Saophoan – Siem Reap - 107 kilometres

The following morning the route was again mainly in good condition, apart from the stretch being resurfaced. The dust was horrendous and enough to make me haul out my buff. Luckily, this wasn’t the rainy season, as one could imagine the route a muddy affair. Being early May, the weather was scorching, and the mercury hovered around 40°C. I wet my shirt from time to time, but within 5 kilometres, it would be bone dry. Like a diver needing decompression, I needed an air-con room to “de-heat”.

My route led past several rural communities and seemingly hundreds of school kids on bicycles. One can’t knock a country where kids still have the freedom to go to school by bike.

Coming from the countryside, touristy Siem Reap appeared an over-commercialised madhouse. Where water in the rural areas was 500 Riel, a few places in Siam Reap charged 4000 Riel! Ivy Guesthouse had fan rooms, and the fan never made the slightest difference. At 11 p.m., the weather bureau gave the temperature at 30°C (felt like 35), and it was significantly cooler outside.

 

5 May - Siem Reap

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

The main reason for staying in Siem Reap was to explore the temples of Angkor Wat and I purchased a 3-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. The gates were flanked by 54 demons and 54 gods engaged in an epic tug of war.

Inside the gates was the old temple featuring 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 was slightly unlucky regarding the sunsets and sunrises. The previous night’s sunset came without colour, and this morning’s light was unspectacular. I nevertheless took a few pictures, as I seldom got up at 5h00.

After sunrise, the second stop was the immensely photogenic Ta Prohm (the temple Lara Croft made famous). Sadly, for photographers, the Cambodians were busy renovating the structures. Without this work, however, the temple wouldn’t last another decade. Fortunately, plenty remained to take pictures of, and I half expected to meet a hobbit.

 

7 May - Siem Reap

An additional day was spent at Angkor, discovering a few ruins further afield. Having a 3-day ticket, I could explore in the morning and then retreat to the comfort of my air-con abode during the day, only to emerge once the heat had abated.

 

8 May - Siem Reap - Kampong Kdei - 61 kilometres

After three non-cycling days, I should’ve been a ball of energy, but instead, I felt lethargic and found it hard to get going. The way led past typical Cambodian houses upon stilts where people seemed to live more under their homes than inside. Under the house was where they hid from the heat and rain, where they ate and socialised and, most of all, where they swung in hammocks. To me, Cambodia was the hammock capital of the world, as they never seemed to leave it. I realised their hammocks were outside and in full view of everyone. One could thus see them sleeping and relaxing. Traditionally Cambodians don’t sit on chairs but on the floor or in a hammock. Elsewhere people relax, rest or sleep in the privacy of their homes, and one merely saw them going about their daily business or sitting on a chair, giving the impression they were always busy.

The path was littered with vendors selling bamboo rice and dried fish. The rice was delicious. Cooked in bamboo stalks over an open fire the rice had a unique taste.

Not much further the route passed an ancient bridge, built around 1181 – 1220 AD. The bridge was located along the old road, which (many moons ago) connected the ancient capital of Angkor to the south. The bridge measured 86m long, 16m wide and 10m high. It consisted of 21 arches, supported upon 20 columns, and was decorated by a 9-headed Naga balustrade. The greatest surprise was the bridge remained in use. Although the new road bypassed it, the bridge was used by motorbikes, pedestrians, and bicycles.

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

 

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

Feeling remarkably energetic after the previous day’s tiredness I departed far earlier than usual. Biking in the cooler morning air was most enjoyable. The way was busy with school kids on bikes (on a Saturday?). It struck me how nearly all kids worldwide attend school, but how they get to it varies tremendously. Like the previous day, the route led past wooden houses upon stilts. The usual “Sabadee falang” came from underneath houses or from 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” while bouncing up and down.

Being weekend, wedding ceremonies were at the order of the day. These ceremonies generally took place over weekends, in street-side yellow and pink marquees outside the family home. I think my curiosity bordered on rudeness as I often stopped and had a peek at the 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.

Once there, various trails led into the woods, and it was great fun locating these temples and exciting to come upon these ancient ruins. More than 100 structures are scattered throughout the forest. The information board stated the area was once called Isanapura and served as the capital of Chena in the early 7^th century. Fascinating stuff.

 

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

Shortly after departing, my route passed an area where temple statues were made. The sculptures were displayed along the road; big ones, small ones, sitting Buddhas and reclining Buddhas. Carving these statues was an immensely dusty job and surely couldn’t be healthy.

The path was like one long, drawn-out village; each house with a plastic contraption with fluorescent lights to catch bugs. It appeared no one in Cambodia wanted to run out of hors d’ oeuvres.

The roadside rubber plantation looked lush and green, making me feel like lying in the shade. However, the presence of the numerous snakes made me decide against such a move, especially after cycling over one earlier and I wasn’t going to take another chance.

Harvesting latex from rubber trees was fascinating, albeit very labour-intensive. 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 can be harvested for practically 28 years. Trees are not tapped during the dry season; and no tapping occurred during my visit.

The small settlement of Kampong Cham situated along the banks of the Mekong River was my preferred overnight stop. The town was surprisingly charming and easy to find a place overlooking the Mekong. I bought a beer and gulped it down while watching the sunset over the river. Life was indeed good and staying the following day came easily. I didn’t do much more than devour anything in sight and watch the Mother River flow past.

 

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

I was up early to witness the sunrise and take a few pictures. I’m not exaggerating when saying after snapping one shot; all the colour was gone.

It’s said that even the most mundane trip becomes an adventure when travelling by bicycle, which sure 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 never doubted that people lived and farmed along the banks of this mighty river.

My first stop was at the bamboo bridge, obviously strong enough to hold a car, but the bridge felt unstable and springy. Google was true to its word, and soon, the path petered out and became a mere 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”.

It turned out an exciting day past villagers going about their daily lives without the influence of the thousands of tourists coming to see the Temples of Angkor. No one needed to go shopping; the shops came to them. Pyjama-clad women on bicycles sold wares from house to house, announcing what they had available in a sing-song voice. Being the dry season and dusty, I was soon the same colour as the road.

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 at a reasonable price. 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 it challenging to capture the fast-moving dancers in low light.

As the Killing Fields were depressing, I’d no intention of revisiting them but 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 2 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’d 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 awfully long but soon turned into a narrow and rough one. At least the road had a good 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, I later returned to get one more 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, he didn’t even sell alcohol or soft drinks to recuperate 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 was covered by the Cardamom Mountains, and one needed to cross these mountains to reach Thailand.

Firstly, however, I headed to Sihanoukville to check out the diving. Still, arriving in Veal Rinh I lacked the desire to do an additional 50 kilometres, and a conveniently situated guesthouse lured me in.

 

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

The next morning, was a short distance to Sihanoukville where bungalow-style digs at the Reef Resort, sported a swimming pool and thus made perfect accommodation. The owner offered an excellent deal, and although initial plans weren’t to remain long, the price was too good to ignore. Unfortunately, the diving turned out not as good as expected. It was best to give it a miss and I did virtually zero, apart from enjoying the swimming pool.

 

23 May - Sihanoukville – Koh Kong - By bus

Usually, the rain came down quickly and hard in Southeast Asia and was soon over. However, it continued raining this morning, and I was reluctant to get underway with my broken pannier. My lazy existence in Sihanoukville should’ve been used to fix the pannier, but I clean forgot 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 country/route twice wasn’t overly exciting and difficult to get motivated. After finding a room in Koh Kong, a half-hearted attempt was made to fix the broken pannier. It would’ve been easier to put everything in a waterproof bag, as the pannier was beyond repair. An internet search revealed an Ortlieb shop in Bangkok and the plan was 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 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 at all, he chopped the coconut open and even made straws from the reeds.

 

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

The Cambodian immigration office was across the river and a short bike ride from the Thailand Immigration. It must’ve been the end of the dry season as the rainy weather continued throughout the day. I thus cycled the 100 km to Trat with rain pelting down.

This ended my ride through Cambodia and returned me to centrally located Thailand for the 5^th time. 

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

71 THAILAND (4)

Bangkok - Cambodia

 338 Kilometres - 7 Days

26 April - 3 May 2015

MAP

Photos

 

 

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

Priority was to get to the South African Embassy in Bangkok to apply for a new passport. At the time Thailand only granted a 2-week stay at land borders and having to apply for a new passport and cycle to the nearest border, I didn’t waste any time. I hurriedly packed up and cycled to the bus station but discovered the next bus was only at 18h50. After purchasing the ticket, I returned to the hotel, left my bike in their care, and went on a walkabout. It soon became too hot out and I returned to the hotel’s coolness.

The bus ride to Bangkok turned out comfortable and a relatively pleasant journey. I must’ve lapsed into a slumber as I woke with a start at the ungodly hour of 3 in the morning. The bus came to a stop at the Bangkok bus terminal. Feeling disoriented, I hurried off the bus to collect my bicycle and panniers. The bus station was about 10 - 15 kilometres out of town and surrounded by road works as a new metro line was being constructed. The nightly rain made the roads wet and muddy as I set off into the darkness through muddy puddles, hoping they didn’t hide any uncovered utility holes. One can easily disappear down them, never to be seen again. I assumed biking into Bangkok would be easy at such an early hour, but the lack of streetlights made the ride somewhat nerve-wracking. The streets were eerily quiet, with only the homeless, drunk and truly weird out at that time. I giggled, realising I was out there too and could easily have fallen into one or more categories.

 

28-30 April - Bangkok

The following day was a busy one at the Embassy organising a new passport and it almost felt like being back at work, filling in forms and paying money. I haven’t done any such thing in a long while and couldn’t say I liked it.

Suddenly, I noticed men in suits, briefcases in hand, talking on mobile phones. I overheard people making deals, their body language and tone of voice made my stomach turn. I felt incredibly pleased it wasn’t me sitting at that table. I walked right past them, licking my ice cream, smiling, thinking, “been there, done that”, and feeling grateful for being homeless, having only my iron horse and a tent. But then thought I might change my mind about that statement pedalling up the next mountain pass.

 

1 May - Bangkok – Chachoengsao - 85 kilometres

There was nothing more I could do about the passport but wait until it arrived, estimated at five months! With my passport only having two empty pages left but five months on my hands, I considered it best to explore the rest of South-East Asia, albeit a second time. It took the best part of the day to get out of vast and busy Bangkok.

 

2 May - Chachoengsao - Sa Kaeo - 125 kilometres

The day turned out another scorcher. Mercifully, around midday, clouds gathered and soon big, big raindrops started falling, not something I was unhappy about. In no time at all, the rain came bucketing down to such an extent it was best to find shelter. A conveniently located roadside restaurant made a perfect spot to grab a cup of coffee. The lady spoke no English, and me (obviously) no Thai. She knew I wanted coffee but not which one and pointed to the menu on the wall. What are the chances one can read Thai when unable to speak it? Still, it was a good cup of coffee. Sa Kaeo was only about 30 kilometres further. Not being in any hurry, I took my time drinking the coffee while waiting until the storm had passed.

Once in Sa Kaeo, a building along the main road resembled a hotel and even though there were no English signs, I stopped to inquire. At least this time, the receptionist used a calculator to indicate the room rate.

 

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

On reaching the border at Po Pet, one left organised Thailand and entered a slightly more chaotic Cambodia. The border crossing was made even more so as it formed part of the Border Market. One needed to weave your way through the warren of stalls until reaching the immigration office.

Once in Cambodia, the route headed east in the direction of Siem Reap. An excellent paved road, albeit not an exciting one led past stilted houses and dry rice paddies. I was going like the clappers, trying to out-cycle the approaching storm, wondering if it would be possible to make it to Saophoan without becoming soaked.

070 MYANMAR (1) - LOSING A PASSPORT

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

MAP

PHOTOS

 

 

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.