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January 13, 2006
Mae Sot (again) and day trip to Myawadi, Burma
Wednesday afternoon’s five hour bus ride was pretty uneventful and I was fortunate enough to sleep through most of it. At about 5pm our air-conditioned late model 50 pax Scania couch pulls up beside the Mae Sot agricultural market and I hop out, make plans to meet Brittany at 7pm at Restaurant Baifern on Intharikhiri Road. Lucky for me, there are signs from the patch of dirt we call the bus terminal to the Green Guesthouse where I stayed before on my first trip to Mae Sot in October. After some directional confusion crossing a river I check into room #9, a clean dimly lit shoebox of a space with cold water shower for a whopping 150 Baht (US$4) per night. 
It is conveniently located 20m from the Thai police’s illegal immigrant detention center.
After settling in to my room, I head out early for the restaurant for a Leo Beer and continue reading my latest book purchase, Nickel and Dimed by Barbra Ehrenreich. At about 7:20pm Brittany shows up and we proceed to have dinner. My green vegetable curry with coconut milk (80 Baht) is decent and just about perfectly spicy. While we are sitting there many of Brittany’s friends come up to chat—this is her town and it’s a small town. Apparently, there is a little party going on at Brittany’s flat on the west end of town that she didn’t organize and so we head off there. At her home, a typical Thai-style house-on-3m-stilts we find about a dozen people underneath it finishing up dinner and drinking Leo, Chang and Singha beer. Nothing crazy, to Brittany’s relief. There I met several interesting people including a few NGO worker’s who have either heard of Child’s Dream or actually know people there—it is very pleasing to who know more about the situation in Burma and Thailand that I do, who can educate me a little bit more on what’s going on, and who like to socialize. There were also many ethnic Karen exiles from Burma who there who are learning English. I spoke with two of them, but conversation was difficult. They were very dedicated to anti-junta causes and were spitting out acronyms of various movements that just baffled the shit out of me. (There are literally dozens, if not hundreds, of anti-junta organizations in Thailand and Burma.)
The next day, Thursday, Brittany is off to work and I head for Myawadi, the town just across the boarder and the Maoei River from Mae Sot. It is about 7km to get there from the center of town so I rent a bicycle from the guesthouse for 10 Baht. (Considering my recent Luang Prabang, Laos bicycle follies, I should have known better.) After passing through the deserted Thai immigration office I head across the nearly traffic-less 80 million Baht Thai-Myanmar Friendship Bridge built in 1997. About halfway across I am intercepted by a man who intends to be my guide. The previous night over beers I had been warned about the assertive nature of the guides so take the situation in stride. We exchange names and ages. “What country are you from?” he asks. “Switzerland” I reply.
Once on the Burma side of the boarder I enter the immigration office. There the official take my passport and asks/declares that I am an American. After confirming this fact, he roars with easy mirth “GEORGE BUSH! WA HA HA HA HA HA”. I just shake my head and look at the floor smiling. This is not the place to get into international political discussions. 500 Baht later, he let’s me go with a blue post-it bearing an immigration stamp on it and the words 'USA' and 'Male' on it.
I’m free and clear. My wanna be guide is there and we start walking down the main drag. He keeps trying to steer me into stores, temples, restaurants and markets but I’m pretty much fixed on walking straight ahead until I’m out off town. All this time I’ve got the new Canon strapped around my neck like a good little tourist. I do let myself once get side tracked into entering a Wat, take some pictures and ‘donate’ 5 Baht to the guy who watches over my stolen flip-flops. (NYE at THC Roof Top, the shoe situation was a free for all…someone had nicked my 200 Baht Tevas, and I needed shoes, so I just slipped on the first pair that did not hurt.)
Myawadi is a pretty small place, but even so it is difficult to get through town due to all the recent and on going road construction work. The government is building a nice, new big highway through the center of town. At the moment, it is just a long, inconsistently leveled stretch of dirt as they make an effort to widen the road. After an hour or so we are on the outskirts of town and I am getting plenty of “why on earth are you walking out here?” looks from the locals. 
As we approach the top of a hill, my increasingly agitated ‘guide’ tells me that there is a police checkpoint over the hill. “Men with guns”, he insists. That’s warning enough for me, so I (we) turn back. It is about this time he is realizing that I’ve got my own agenda and could care less about his 'services'. He angrily tells me “I will remember you people from Switzerland! You are not good!” and he stomps off. Free at last, free at last. My only regret is that I didn’t tell him I was Canadian.
Now that I’m back in town, it seems like a good idea to take a walkabout through the side streets. There are many vendors and such, a few clothing shops with old school Singer sowing machines, and people just milling about staring at the weirdo farang who must be lost. After a while I pass a few police men sitting at a cafe้. One of them starts up a conversation and I’m playing stupid tourist and just sort of go along with it. Most of the conversation was his speech about the history of Burma: “The British were here and they fucked everything up, we’ve had some problems but that’s all over with now, and now we welcome you tourists. Enjoy your stay.” Before sending me on my way, he discretely says “If you need any help, just come to me. I can help you.” Yea, sure. Thanks for that, you fucking thug in a uniform.
Minutes later beside a mosque I’m greeted by an older man from Kashmir with pretty good English. After pleasantries he asks me if I am a trader. Instinctively I want to say something cheeky, like “yea, a few kilos of heroin would be great…got any left?” but again I stay well behaved. The man and his entourage were all very nice and they could have been just innocent gem dealers or something. Burma is world renowned for its jade.
It was about then that this deranged looking man starts following me. He really, really, wants to make eye contact with me. I keep moving and no longer stop to take pictures, smile at kids, look into stores, etc. Every two or three minutes he starts out with a seconds long slow, devious laugh/giggle straight out of the mental institution patients one sees in Hollywood movies. 30 minutes of that and I was ready to get the fuck out of Burma and so work my way to the immigration office. With no hassles I pick up my passport and head back access the Friendship Bridge and into the waiting arms of Thai immigration. It is there that the most spooky of things happens of my entire Burma day trip: The Thai immigration officer asks me for my phone number. So, I put my Swiss number down. He says, “No, your Thai mobile number.” How did he know? Paranoia sets in. I jot it down thinking that it is better to not get caught in a lie. Brittany later tells me that he just psyched me out, but I don’t know…it was strange.
Anyways, after biking back to the guesthouse I shower, change, nap and later meet Brittany and friends at Crocodile Tears Bar and Restaurant. After one round we head off for Kung's Bar for a few more drinks and then call it a night.
I’m enjoying my stay so far in Mae Sot and decide to extend it two days until Sunday.
Posted by stu at January 13, 2006 02:32 PM