Running for a Myanmar Visa

Pyi Daw Aye Temple in Kawthaung, Myanmar

I have mentioned numerous times that we have completed various circles around the southern Thailand, and as a result of this time exploring southern Thailand, our visas are about to expire. Despite the remoteness of Koh Tao, we boarded an empty ferry, unlike the Full Moon ferries, and made our way to Chumphon (emphasize the chump in pronunciation, makes some people giggle). As luck would have it, a local bus headed immediately to Ranong, the town where we could jump over into Burma for a daytime Myanmar Visa run. Since it was evening, the borders were closed when we arrived and our stomachs condemned more travel in protest via growling. We walked around until a Thai buffet presented itself. Walking down the buffet line, raw chicken, meat, fish, octopus, squid lay next to salads, rice dishes, and many fried dishes. I could see eating the other non-raw items from a bet, but raw chicken? I didn’t want salmonella poisoning until I arrived to Vietnam, not this early here in Thailand. Ahh, then it all made sense at our table. In the middle of our table was a dome-shaped fryer where we could cook our own meat. Being the rookie dome-shaped fryers we are, we placed the meat on top correctly, but like novices we also placed the uncooked noodles on top of there as well. From the stares of the local patrons, we messed up. Ten minutes later we were politely told in broken English, much more proficient than our infant Thai, that the noodles go in the water surrounding the grill. “Oh, is that why all this billowing smoke is filling up the restaurant?” By the end of the evening, we enjoyed an average meal of our own makings, no thanks to those sorry cooks, they should be fired really, but at least it was a memorable dining experience.

Next morning, Nadine and I jumped on a local truck and hightailed it to a spot where we thought we could catch Sunday Mass. Just as we strode up, the Mass completely in Thai understandably had already started, but I didn’t quite catch everything said. After Mass, we met and shared brunch with the Kiwi Fr. John. Father John was born in New Zealand, but has served as a missionary priest for the last 25 years. After the Philippines, he moved to Burma. Being that we were going to get a small taste of Burma that afternoon, it was only fitting to pick his mind and get a little more insight on this troubled country that we had read so much about.

Kawthaung, Myanmar

The country of Burma is formally called the Union of Myanmar. It is ruled by a military junta and has been in power since 1962. There were democratic elections back in 1990, but when the military rule lost to Aung San Suu Kyi, they invalidated the elections in order to retain power. The winner of that election, Aung San Suu Kyi, has been under house arrest on and off since this time. From our readings and conversations with other travelers, the country is a police state where the government doesn’t truly respect the people and instead, breeds fear. It is well documented that there are prisons holding prisoners as being “harmful” to the union. You can find more info about Burma on the world-wide web. With all the current activity surrounding Asia, there has been mounting pressure on the government for reformation. There is always hope.

After we parted ways with Father John, it was encouraging to meet someone personally working to bring about change in Burma. His reentry to Burma stalled, because he has not been given another visa, but he wanted to be an agent of positive change. He impressed us with his generosity and pointed us in the right direction towards Burma. “Yeah, keep going until you hit the water, then start swimming west.” Don’t get me started Fr. John, I have a good deal of sheep jokes.

Welcome to the Union of Myanmar or Burma?

Jumping on a long-boat with our Burmese boat driver and his son Alfie, we made our way across the massive Pak Chan River. The entire time, little Alfie, roughly eight years old, scooped water out of our boat. After a few minutes, I took pictures of him and showed him the pictures. This beget huge smiles and laughter. After two photos, he wanted me to take more pictures of the sky, water, islands, him sleeping, anything. And he always followed it up with a big smile and laugh on his face covered in white chalk. I’m not sure why he had white chalk all over his face, but we found several people walking around Burma with their face covered in white chalk.

Arriving to the pier at Kawthough, Burma, a different world greeted us. Immediately one could see the change from a prosperous Thailand to a shy and poor Burma. From my Western influenced opinion of world affairs, we begrudgingly paid for our visa to a corrupt government, and then subsequently explored the city. Ironically, the heat and humidity keep everyone in line as no one would have extra energy for a revolution to generate change. We sweat bullets the rest of the day. A wave of people followed us through the dirty Burmese streets. A Buddhist temple provided a stark contrast to the rest of this Burmese border town. The temple was very clean. From the temple, we spied on the cities characteristics from high above.

Formal Wear at Pyi Daw Aye Temple

In our brief time there, we found Burmese people to be more reserved than the Thai people. Some individuals would avert their eyes when you looked at them. Quite possibly a result of the current military regime and conditions. When we’d smile at them, they wouldn’t always reciprocate. I guess the same could be said for folks in New York City. Children were different though. They would smile, act silly, yell “heee lo.” The candy we bought from a local lady provided a means to interact with locals, and handed it out to each kid we crossed. They were happy and appreciated the sugary confections that led to short connections. Burma/Myanmar proved to be a great, yet brief experience and stark contrast to what we’d experienced over the last five months. A tendency I have on any trip abroad, I compare it to my time living in Peru and Bolivia. I could compare Burma to Bolivia in regards to its poverty, but Bolivians have the right to speak their minds, while it appears that the Burmese are fearful to do so and or at least brainwashed not to do so. Or they figure it would be a boring conversation with me. Yet riding back to Thailand across the Pak Chan River, Alfie went to town on all the candy we gave him while Nadine and I pondered Burma’s future and a later extended visit.