Golden Rock

The with no buses going our way, our only option to get from Pha-an to Kyaikto was by “Pickup”. A pickup is as you would expect, a pickup truck, (Ute to the Aussies) usually with a roof, and loaded with as many people and as much cargo as they can load in or on before the axle breaks. We squeezed in with 10 locals and spent 2 hours bouncing down the road before being kicked off in some tiny town. The blank / confused look on our faces must have said “HELP” because the locals told us to wait a few minutes and another pickup would be along. Sure enough, 10 minutes later, the next ride whisked us away for a few more hours of butt numbing excitement on the poorly maintained road. At the end of it we had hoped to be done, but a guy told us we needed to go to the other side of town to get a bus for the last 10km, and the best way to do that was via cycle-rickshaw.

Much to the amusement of the townfolk, Jen decided she should cycle the rickshaw driver to give him a break. It must have been the funniest thing the locals had seen in ages, they were all pointing, laughing, and clapping at the sight of this white girl cycling a local boy while barely maintaining control on the bumpy dirt road. We missed the last bus by minutes and were eventually picked up by a couple of motorcycle taxis that took us to our hotel. (Quite an adventure in itself trying to balance our big backpacks on the motorcycles). We checked into a very nice $12 room and wandered through the village. The children were incredibly friendly here and we ended up playing badminton, giving airplane rides and being chased around by the kids for a couple of hours before dark.

Next morning it was time to climb the hill, (still with sore legs from the previous day’s hike) to see the golden rock. This seems to be a bit of a pilgrimage for the Burmese who visit the holy mountain by the truckload. And I mean that literally. Before we can climb the mountain we get shipped to the base via a dump truck loaded with over a hundred people. You have never experienced cattle class until you ride in a dump truck of wall to wall people weaving up and down mountain roads. This seemed to be the closest most of the locals had been to riding a rollercoaster evoking squeals and laughter each time we careened around a corner (or looks of terror from the 6 foreigners). We had an extra dose of torture being crammed in front of two mischevious monks that seemed, much to their amusement, to have a nasty case of gas… at least we weren’t behind them.

We made our way up the remainder of the mountain on wobbly legs, the golden rock visible in the distance encouraging us along. Finally we were close enough to appreciate the enormity of this gold leafed rock teetering on the edge of the cliff. It almost seemed as if one gust of wind would find it careening over the edge – hope the farting monks don’t get to close! It is said the stone was a hair of Buddha that was brought from the bottom of the ocean and then turned to stone, of course making it a very holy place to visit. We checked out the rock and hiked down for an equally thrilling and painful dump truck ride back to the village.

A wonderful friendly place but with the water festival fast approaching we booked our bus ticket for Mandalay and after a good nights rest we are on the road again.

What's Happenin' in Hpa-an?

Finally at our destination of Mawlamyine, we extricated ourselves from our cramped seats. Before the pins and needles even had a chance to set in we had showered and were blissfully horizontal in a cheap cubby hole of a room, which in the perspective of the previous 12 hours felt like “The Ritz”.
“It’s not about the destination, it’s about the journey” that was our mantra as we prepared for another leg of the journey a few hours later. The next leg was actually supposed to be an enjoyable voyage, a scenic ferry trip up the river. We hauled our travel weary bodies down to the jetty to buy our ferry tickets before venturing through the neighbourhood in search of nourishment. Ordering lunch proved to be a challenge in itself. The menu was entirely in Burmese and our usual fallback method of pointing at some other customer’s plate or a big pot of something that has been prepared was impossible as there was no prepared food in sight. Time to bust out the Burmese phrasebook. Now I must point out that many Asian languages use tone and syllable stress to differentiate words. A simple alteration in emphasis can change “may I please have a glass of milk” to “shake your ta-ta’s lady”. So reading from a phrasebook is often met with a blank stare, as it was in this case. Fortunately, this cloud had a silver lining. The daughter ran off somewhere and returned with the local interpreter in tow. Over lunch this most interesting gentleman sat and chatted with us, telling us about his work for the Red Cross, his many prison sentences for speaking out against the oppressive government, and his opinion on the upcoming constitution. Even though we have all heard of political prisoners, it is an odd experience to be having a conversation with somebody that you, or more certainly they, could be arrested for. A prison sentence for having a voice. Fortunately this man is very courageous and his imprisonment has not silenced him. In fact, we encountered many people that were willing and even eager to voice their opinions. There seemed to be some hope that by telling us, they could let some of the information out of the country. This of course will require a separate post (coming soon).
This new found friend took it upon himself to escort us to the boat and even got us settled on board, chatting our ears off until the horn sounded indicating our imminent departure. The boat was a gift from the Japanese government in the 1940’s and its age showed in the rusting hull and buckling planks of the wooden floors. Our new friend asked only half jokingly if we could swim before bidding us farewell. We sat on the floor (no seats on this luxury liner) under the curious gaze of the locals on board. For most, the novelty of our presence wore off after about an hour but there was a guarantee of at least 3 little pairs of brown eyes resting on us at any given time thereafter. Curiosity and a desire to practice his English got the best of one young monk who started with a couple tentative questions and then the floodgates of inquisition opened. The eldest of the other two monks that he was travelling with us eventually got concerned that we hadn’t eaten enough during the journey and insisted that we take some of the date cookies that he offered us. The trio disembarked shortly before our stop of Hpa-an, inviting us to come and stay in their village. Regretfully, we had to decline knowing that it would be another three days before the next boat plied the river.
Our mantra rang true and the journey upstream was as picturesque as promised. Winding its way through a valley of sugar cane fields, the boat stopped at numerous tiny villages where the children would come running to greet their relatives and wave to the other passengers.
Five hours later and with virtually no passengers left, the boat reached its destination and pulled up to what should have been a jetty but was now a collection of wood in the river. Ever resourceful, the local men used some bamboo and the gangplank to rig something up, and laden with our backpacks we gingerly made our way ashore through the knee deep murky water. Pha-an was a sleepy town with little to do other than hike up the nearby 770m mountain to visit a monastery at the top. The climb was pretty tough: hot, humid and steep. It took us 2 hours to get to the top for the spectacular views, and only 40 minutes to get down. Our legs were like jelly by the time we reached the bottom and hurt for several days afterwards. Our next stop would only add insult to injury as we would be climbing another (mercifully smaller) mountain to the famous Golden Rock of Kyaiktiyo.

Homesick

We are 4 entries behind on our blog but wanted to post a "here and now" candid entry. We are a little sick of being wet (you'll find out why 4 entries from now) and just homesick in general. In addition to intense cravings for Rice Krispie squares (not that these are a regular part of our diet at home- so i'm not sure why), sushi, and good wine, we are really missing family dinners, visiting with friends, and La Senza. Yes, today the favorite one of my two bras broke - I almost cried. I don't think i'll find anything larger than a AA in this country or any of the next four countries that we are visiting.... and then there is Africa, where i'm sure the bra is listed as an endangered species. A couple days ago Adam tried on a pair of shorts to try and replace one of his sad, stained, torn pairs. He couldn't get the largest size past his knees! Anyways, just wanted to let you all know that we miss you and normal sized clothing terribly and we are counting down to August 15th when we arrive home!

Mingala-ba Myanmar!

Yangon offered a toned down version of the sensory overload that we first encountered upon setting foot in Delhi. The sidewalks were cluttered with teeny plastic chairs and tables, food vendors, booksellers, and cigar stands caked with stalagmites of the lime that is used to stick the leaves of the cigars together. Although the layer of grime was not as thick as that in Delhi, there was still a healthy dose of filth everywhere.
The first order of business was acquiring some local currency. Crossing the strehe counter of one ofet to the market we were quickly intersected by a man saying money-change? money-change? We agreed on a rate and he hastily led us up some stairs into the upper floor of the market, through a labyrinth of ladies hunched over vintage sewing machines and into what appeared to be the not-quite-open-yet “gem market”. Adam was directed behind t the gem stalls where he awkwardly pulled up one of the plastic kiddy chairs that two other Burmese men managed to make look reasonably comfortable. It took a while to count out the huge stack of one thousand kyat notes that we got in exchange for $100 US. The black market rate is 1200 kyat to $1 US, the official rate… we’re not too sure what that is yet- but I’m sure we’ll find out soon enough.

Finances out of the way, the next order of business was laundry. When we asked where we might find a laundry we were led to a clothing stall in the market, bewilderment turned to laughter when we discovered that the man thought we had asked for a longyi (the long wrap style skirts that most of the Burmese men wear). We gave up and turned our hotel bathroom into a laundromat, a skill that we have mastered over the past 7 months.
The rest of the day was spent strolling around and checking out the formerly grand British colonial buildings that have faded into ruin despite still being used for a number of official purposes. If we were a novelty to stare at in India, we had achieved minor celebrity (or perhaps freak) status here. The people were very friendly and chatty but I think there were a few that had never encountered foreigners before despite being in the capital city. Walking past a street food stall we saw one man staring at us mouth agape, spoon in hand frozen midway between his mouth and his bowl, he held this pose staring at us until we turned the corner out of his sight. Not by coincidence, our walk-about brought us past the flashy Strand hotel where we to quench our thirst. The bartender chatted with us as he whipped up a refreshingly tart pomelo margarita. Moving on, we stopped into an internet café where checking our emails proved to be a futile endeavour. Most websites were inaccessible, presumably a government attempt to control information.
The next day called for a visit to Yangon’s famous, huge, golden Shwedagon Paya. Gilded in 85 tonnes of gold and crowned with huge diamond, this stupa is stupefying! Unfortunately almost every single Buddha here has been adorned by a halo of tacky flashing LEDs making them look more like a Vegas spectacle than a place of worship.
We had lunch on the lake watching the red robed monks traversing the long footbridge under the shade of their parasols. There was just enough time for a market visit after lunch before boarding our bus to Mawlamyine. With a bus ticket entirely in Burmese, a dark parking lot full of people and buses, and zero illumination (thanks to a power outage) we would have never found our bus had it not been for our most helpful taxi driver. He led us to a candlelit check-in counter and then found our bus for us, which we faithfully stood by until we were allowed to board. We crammed ourselves into the tiny seats, Adam’s knees crushed against the seat in front of him (and this was before the lady in front tried to recline…. repeatedly) doing the best to make ourselves comfortable for the 7 hour journey that lay ahead. Incidentally, it stretched out to be a very uncomfortable 12 hour journey. The first five hours were especially unpleasant as the crappy speakers blared endless tinny karaoke DVD’s at a volume that made conversation impossible. Good thing we splashed out on the deluxe bus!

Sailing Siam

Without going into the details of the trip, here are some of the highlights… and lowlights of our seven days.
Ko Phi Phi: Setting for the movie, “The Beach” these twin islands are gorgeous but overrun with tourists. If you haven’t seen the movie, rent it and you will get a sense of the gritty hotels, nightlife, beaches and people we have met. The islands are incredible limestone monoliths towering over the water with white sandy beaches where the ocean has eroded the cliffs away. The beach used for the movie is as spectacular as it appears in the movie, at least until 10am when a thousand or more tourists arrive on all manner of marine craft to completely obscure the 500m stretch of sand. Time for us to move on. The Emerald cave is an unforgettable experience that Mad Max suggested we swim through. We heeded his advice to leave our flashlight behind donning our life jackets and jumping into the water. Swimming into the cave was easy and as we moved 20 metres or so in, we found ourselves swimming through the emerald glow of the ocean. 100 metres in the cave makes a right turn into absolute blackness. Swimming consists mostly of feeling for the wall and making sure we don’t panic. Another very slow 100m, a right turn and daylight appears. We emerge from the end of the cave onto the most spectacular beach we have ever seen; a small 300m stretch of white sand fringing a lagoon, completely encircled with sheer cliffs and only accessible via the tunnel. Unbelievable! Anchoring offshore from a small resort and “dressing up” for dinner which at this point means something more than a bathing suit that isn’t too wrinkly, we jump in the dinghy to motor ashore. Just as we approach the beach, we get swamped by a freak wave. Sandy and sopping wet we seek out the darkest beachside table we can find hoping our drenched state will go by unnoticed. Two nights at Ko Rok Nok out of range of day trippers gave us the unspoilt beaches and snorkelling we were looking for. The water was so clear it seemed like our boat was flying over the coral. After dark, swimming through what seemed to be a star filled sky as each movement of our bodies lit water around us with phosphorescent sparkles. A sailing trip is never complete without me hurting myself, and day 4 met that requirement. Sabaii Sabaii had a hatch in the middle of the back deck through which we could climb up a swim ladder. Much to Jen’s amusement (you would have laughed yourself sick Tim) one afternoon I turned and stepped through the hatch not knowing it was open. I would have laughed too had I not straddled a steps like a human pretzel. Fortunately I got away with only a bruise, but I think I invented a new yoga pose. A few days of great sailing with the spinnaker flying and the boat cruising at 8.5 Knots. One afternoon the halyard on the gaffe broke requiring someone to go to the top of the mast to effect repairs. I rigged a seat and asked two Thai men to help pull me to the top. Due to their lack of English and a communication breakdown, (but to the amusement of the local onlookers along the beach) the seat went awry and I was stuck clinging to the top until the guys realised I needed to be lowered. Safely on deck and repairs complete we were able to sail on. We had lousy weather on the return journey having to fight wind, waves and 2 squalls with thunder and lightning. Back in Phuket alive and intact we boarded our bus and began the long 24 hour journey that would eventually find us in Myanmar (Burma).

Beyond Thunderdome

We had been waiting for a few minutes at the agreed upon meeting place when he came screaming around the corner on a motorbike, his side-car aloft at a 45 degree angle. He was a true seadog from the matted yellow hair sticking out at all angles from a leathery bronzed face right down to the bashed up barefeet that bore teeny stubs resembling cornchips where his toenails ought to have been, the only thing that didn’t fit were his kind, twinkling blue eyes. Of course from the moment we met him he became Mad Max to us but as briny as he was, he was a very likeable guy. We got settled into our little catamaran before heading over to the local restaurant for a chart briefing over dinner and then learned more about Max over a few beers and yes of course…for him a pipe.
Our vessel, Sabaii Sabaii was a mean green machine. Completely held together by string with barely any metal onboard, she looked as if Gilligan, the Skipper and Professor had lashed her together rather than being a legitimate charter vessel. (although Max claimed she was only 4 years old and a fine craft). Being a catamaran, she was scarce on cabin space but ample on deck space. It was the first catamaran that we had ever chartered so we had a few tips from Max, including… this is so cool… a lesson on how to beach the boat! Yes, you can pull the catamaran right up on the sand! We were also pretty excited that the boat came with a spinnaker (that’s the really pretty colourful sail that you see sometimes way out in front of the boat). Most charters don’t come with them because they are finicky to launch, but this one was really easy to rig.
We stayed the night in Phuket hoping for some good strong wind for our first stop Ko Phi Phi Don.