Myanmar from the Top of the World - A Road Trip

There are places in the world where comfort won't take you.




My friends always kid me about my travels; that I choose rough and tumble over comfortable travel. But if comfort was my goal, I wouldn’t even have to leave the “comforts” of my room! I will grow a tummy and sport a beard and pick my teeth while watching dvds in my temperature-controlled room.


Yangon - a city living with the past



My travels have made me realize what a charmed life I’ve had. I am in fact a prince in my own little world; in my third-world existence. But there are places in the world far from the comforts of life as you know it - surreal places.


Like the back of a motorbike, with a gush of wind blowing against my face, combing my hair in bellows and random directions. I never ride motorbikes in my country. It is such a misplaced thought.
Like the humps at the back of a camel (see photo way down below).

Like the top of a minibus, with cargoes and men surrounding me. (below)


My seat up there...




A road trip outside Yangon (the former capital of Myanmar) – 2 hours of unbridled adrenaline rush – at least, for me, it was – didn’t prepare me to be sitting on top of a mini-bus. I was initially indignant about it. But minutes later, I clambered up the rails and plopped comfortably at the roof of my vehicle. I held tight to the side rails, almost crushing my fist with the gravity of a powerful grip. But as the vehicle slid past people, places, and anonymous temples and life at a distant corner of the world, I relaxed. I even managed to carefully take snaps from where I was – from the top of my world.

There are new places that a cloistered life won’t take me, and from such a vantage point at the top of a rundown minibus, I see the world in a different perspective.

National Highway, Myanmar

The countryside reveals places not in guidebooks...

Unnamed temples by the road side.

Toll gate

A scene at a rural market near Taukkyan. Notice the men wearing those skirt-like longyi.

Thanaka painted on children's faces... An american lady argued with me regarding the use of thanaka. She insisted that it was exclusively used by females - supposedly to make themselves beautiful. THIS photo is proof that she was speaking based on hot air! To think she supposedly went around the country! Either she was dreaming while going around or she closed her eyes most of time while visiting! Thanaka has several uses: cosmetic, cultural reasons and comfort - they feel cool to the face (like how a menthol feels in your tongue). They also protect the skin against the harsh sun.

So if you are reading this, I enjoin you to travel! Get out of your comfort zone. Step into anywhere new, exciting, peculiar, strange and unnerving. There is a huge world out there waiting for you.

Meander a curious corner of the world and see it like an Eye in the Sky.

Burpppp...! - More Gastronomic Delights from Vietnam and Cambodia

These are just some gastronomic delights that I haven't posted yet!


Yangchau and Spring Roll - beside Ben Thanh Market, Saigon.

Their halo-halo at VnD 10,000 - mas masarap ang atin! (Ben Thanh Market)

A coke bottle for someone. (I have canned coke too but I can't seem to rotate it. :-< ) Hanoi

My ice cream cup at Tokimex - $1.25, Siem Reap, Cambodia

Fruits of the season include pomelo, atis, papaya, banana, longans, plums, macopa and dragon fruit. Ha Long Bay.

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Temples of the Angkor Wat Complex

In the morning, I was in a quandary. I was told that Siem Reap was already celebrating the Buddhist Water Holiday and for the next week, there will be no outgoing buses. I was stuck in the expensive “town” of Siem Reap! What to do? In a couple of days, I had a flight from Saigon to Hanoi - and I was stuck in Cambodia! The morose-looking “mom” made her calls to the other bus companies, but I was out of luck. My only option was to book a flight (read: expensive - add to this is Siem Reap’s airport departure tax - $25). So I was to fly from Siem Reap to Saigon! I withdrew cash at a nearby ATM machine and handed $120 to "mom". She was still sporting her characteristic smirk, but by this time, I was sure it wasn't personal. With that taken cared, I was now set on conquering the Angkor Wat temples. The options were varied: a taxi could be arranged to take me around the temples. And there are tuktuks and the motodup as well.

I wanted the wind on my hair, and I wanted a comfortable sit as well, so I hired a tuktuk (a motorcycle pulling a 3-wheeled roofed carriage). Passing through the town center (luxury casinos, resort hotels, golf courses – a far cry from the squalid capital Phnom Penh), my driver drove me to Angkor Wat’s central office. A foreigner has to buy a $20 day-pass. This “pass” is randomly checked - and you have to show this at every temple entrance.

My first stop was the main temple, Angkor Wat, looming majestic with a moat and a baray (body of water). My driver waited outside while I navigated the temple. Stepping on the moat leading to the Wat was like stepping back in time. One can’t help but be mystified by the history and regal bearings of each structure. I had goosebumps.

The complex of temples spans around an area as big as Manhattan. Some are closer to each other, while others are far away, like Banteay Srey which is 37 km from Siem Reap. Each temple has specific features. My personal favorites were: Ta Promh (where they filmed Indiana Jones and Lara Croft) – with gigantic trees growing out of temple structures, a case of nature’s triumph over men; the Bayon, a part of Angkor Thom, which has more than 200 enigmatic faces in half-smiles looking down their visitors; and finally, the magnificence of the main Angkor Wat. If you closely observe the details of the designs, they tell stories of the 12th century. Every part is picture perfect.

Reality is, one cannot possibly view all these temples in a day, though the temple grounds open as early as 5AM (for the avid photographers, this would mean daybreak photos overlooking the Western Baray and Angkor Wat) and close at 5PM. You need a minimum of 3 days (that’s $60) to appreciate majority of these temples.

You also need a comfortable ride because it is almost impossible to walk from one temple to the next, unless you have several weeks of holiday. A bike may be used but Siem Reap (SR) has prohibited bike rentals within the town’s confines (unless you have rented your bike outside SR.)

Some of these temples are poorly maintained, remote and unpopulated. Some can be found in the bowels of a jungle, thus not so safe especially for lone female trekkers (a couple of rape cases have been reported). Next important thing to consider upon visiting these temples: it is physically daunting! You need some stamina to climb up and down each temple. There may be limited mobility/activity for the physically challenged (the handicaps) or the elderly, unless they're happy watching the view from the outside. I had 4 shirt changes during my visit. The sun can get harsh - so bring extra shirts, bottled water, and maybe a face towel.

As I moved from one temple to the next, I would raise my soaked shirts against the wind (best sensation there is). Another must-have: a good sunblock with high level spf! I used enough and still got fried. Some of these temples, like Ta Keo, were very very steep. After persevering it’s very thin steps, I was petrified coming down. It was hard to maneuver your feet sideways (to fit the width of the steps), balancing yourself so you won't suffer a long, bumpy fall.

Another tip: if you have agreed on a $15 whole-day ride with your tuktuk, make sure that this includes Banteay Srey. I was emphatic to point this out to my driver - or it would be a “no-go”. Banteay Srey turned out to be “pretty”; it was a girlie temple, relatively small and with a pinkish hue! This "most beautiful" temple is some 30 minutes from the central congregation of temples.

Banteay Srey

I enjoyed the ride through the countryside on my way to Banteay Srey. Green fields, wooden houses that rise on stilts (typical old khmer architecture – as noted by a Chinese farmer who first visited the temples way back 12th century). This was a far advanced civilization, with a population of 1 million when London only had 100,000.

I noticed several “artesian wells” that had signage’s “donated by Mr. So_and_so of Toronto, Canada” or “By Fredirique of Nice, France”. There were signs that led to other temples further afield, but you had to risk landmines as well as hoodlums to visit such remote temples.

Outside Banteay Srey, there were stalls selling brass wares, paintings, souvenir shirts. Several young men offered Lonely Planet books of Cambodia and a Special Edition of the Angkor Wat Temples. It was sold at $13. I had no intentions of buying one, but these young boys were so persistent. “I wait for you, mister,” remarked one of them. I told him not to wait for me, but he disregarded my reply. After roaming the temple, I found him waiting outside. He kept dogging me every step of the way until I finally relented. "$9," he offered, but I wanted him out of the way so I said, "$6" or I'll go! He stared at his wares then finally handed the book over. I almost felt sorry for him, but this was a book I didn't need! Was I bad? He was the persistent one! Over at Shangrila's Powerbooks, the Cambodian Lonely Planet sells at $36 (PhP1650)! This edition was a special edition of just the Temples of the Angkor Wat!

This is the Eye in the Sky!

Note:

I have since visited Siem Reap and the Angkor Temples for the 2nd time this year (July 2011). The actual travelogue is posteD here - http://eye-in-the-blue-sky.blogspot.com/2011/07/siem-reap-bakhen-temples-golden-sunsets.html - and the successive posts follow.

An Amorous Khmer - The Ride From Phnom Penh

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Buddhist Monks waiting for their ride.


Royal Hall


Phnom Penh Museum


Preah Sihanouk Boulevard


Independence Monument

Everyone becomes a different person once uprooted from his native land, whether for employment, education or a simple holiday. I am no different. I am polite and patient more than I usually am. I am also decisive and careful. But I take chances when doors of opportunity open up. It is in this vein that I tell of an amusing anecdote that, though it was uncomfortable and constricting at that time, I now look back with fondness and a hearty laugh.

My bus ride from Phnom Penh to Siem Reap started rather uneventfully. Someone drove me to a corner in front of the Phnom Penh Cultural Center where I was to wait for my bus. A couple of middle-aged Chinese guys (who I initially thought were Japanese) waited with me. We were both trying to make conversations, but all they could mutter was “Temp’l? Temp’l?” – so I gave up after a while. I stood infront of an apothecary where an old lady was smiling, spewing words in French, and all I could say was, “Sorry, je ne parle pas le français.” She must have understood me - she offered me a seat – which was so sweet, as I didn’t have any business for her, and sheepishly offered back my “Merci beaucoup.” An old lady offering me a seat! Imagine!

Thirty minutes later, the bus arrived, and a flurry of embarking activities followed. The stowage compartment from the side of the bus was gradually filled with a potpourri of stuff that city dwellers bring home to their folks in the countryside. Sacks of what-have-you's, packed garments, crates of yam and bananas, everything went inside the compartment, including a live chicken in its cage. I slowly made my way inside, looking for my seat, where I was pointed to a seat whose number doesn’t match my assigned ticket. The assistant implied that my seating had been changed, so that’s it.

From the looks of it, this was gonna be a packed ride, with a strictly local population – except for the two Chinese guys and myself.

I refused to part with my 12-kg bag, which was a good idea, since the bus would drop passengers along the 6-hour (and later, 7-hour) ride, and the aforementioned compartment outside would be constantly subjected to disembarkation. With a window seat and airconditioning – I couldn’t complain. This will be a breeze.

Then came a group of Khmer ladies. One of them sat beside me, while her friends were behind us. She closely looked at me and smiled, so I said, hello. She had a friendly face, long hair pinned on a twirling bun. Turns out she couldn’t understand a single word of English. Not even a “yes”, a “no”, “thank you” or the word “English”. I would have loved chatting with locals. Oh well. An interesting 6-hour bus ride flew off my window. Or so I thought.

The bus started playing on video a Chinese comedy-adventure series dubbed in Khmer. Every hour or so, the assistant would change the disc for its continuation. The passengers totally lapped it up - hook, line and sinker! They love this rollicking slapstick! I was grateful that it wasn’t a continuous barrage of Cambodian videoke, as I was forewarned.

My huge baggage settled snugly between my legs - so I couldn't move much, and I just had enough leg room which didn't allow me to slouch down. Nor did I have enough elbow room to make a comfortable side maneuver. Moreover, all the aircon vent were decidedly set elsewhere but my direction. I thought, “alright, this is your country, so be my guest…” I wasn’t gonna argue with a bunch of Khmers when I didn’t even know where I was gonna sleep that night, not having made any reservations – again! I was gonna wing it!

Two hours into the ride, the bus made a stop at some carinderia, not much different from those we see on a bus ride to Baguio City. Everyone got off the bus but I waited until I didn’t have to squeeze myself from anyone. My khmer seatmate stood, looked and smiled at me, and invited me down. I nodded and said, “Later. Thank you.” Once back to our seats, my amiable seatmate started talking, whatever it was about, I just nodded and smiled. It felt like I’ve swallowed a lizard’s tail too. She pulled a pomelo from inside her bag and offered a piece. I politely declined. It is gastrocolic, and i refuse to risk any unscheduled bowel movement, thank you. Later, She took a paper-album, literally threw the stuff on my lap, and motioned for me to scan through.

Hmmm… so she’s been to the temples before. And she had lots of friends with her too. Does she live there? Or is she on holiday? Then I saw a picture of her standing across the moat of Angkor Wat, all pregnant. She kept smiling, annotating some of her photos… and slid her arm into mine. We were best friends. Some hospitality, I thought. At times, she would push her arm against mine and I was pasted against my window wall, I couldn’t move my feet, nor my arms, but I am not gonna make advances to someone who was once pregnant. Maybe this is usual Khmer camaraderie, who knows?
I vacillated between my window’s view and the Chinese video. As the sun begins to set, some 3 long hours into Siem Reap, she removed the sandals off her feet and comfortably settled her bare feet over my left shoe. She would slide her feet against my leather. Was it a Khmer ritual too? I wasn’t sure if it was polite to shake her feet off my shoe. This went on for a while. Every time she pulls it off my shoe, I'd try to pull my left foot under my seat – in vain. The hours stretched long and uncomfortable. Six hours became 7, and the last 30 minutes stretched like 30 days.

I comforted myself with the fact that she was, in fact, being friendly and was doing me a favour. A human skin shining my shoe would save me several Rials worth of shoe shine.

It started to rain as we drew close to Siem Reap (which garrishly meants “Siam Defeated”, by the way). As the bus drew to a stop at the garage, I scampered off with my baggage. Rain fell heavily. She glanced at my direction with a blank look, and I nodded my goodbye. Rushed to the nearby shed. It was late and dark, and i was cold and near-drenched. What was she gonna say, I couldn’t tell.

I was unhappy though that the shoe she painstakingly rubbed clean was gonna be muddied up by this torrential rain. Darn!

This is the Eye in the Sky!

Cambodian Countryside

A roadside market in Prasot. Notice the hundreds of antenna jutting out from the roof.

Comparing the countryside of Vietnam and Cambodia, it is obvious that Vietnam has succeeded in outpacing its neighbor by leaps and bounds, but taking into consideration the catastrophic history of Cambodia, I am amazed with the steady pace of slow-but-sure development in the country. The resilience of the people is nothing to scoff at, and economic gains are catching up. This is more obvious in Siem Reap.

In the early 70's, after a 5-year struggle, the Communist Khmer Rouge forces captured Phnom Penh (PP), and by 1975, ordered the mass evacuation of all towns and cities. PP became a virtual ghost town and thousands were massacred (thus "the killing fields"). The Khmer Rouge was a devastating power, leaving no infrastructure. By 1978, institutions like education, money, social facilities, any form of commerce and industry were non existent! BUT the subsequent Vietnamese invasion drove the khmer rouge to the countryside, and the country had to start from nothing!

Another market in Kraul Kor

Ambulant vendors in NEAK LOEUNG, near the Mekong

A ferry ride at the Mekong River

My bus' ferry ride at the Mekong

This is the Eye in the Sky!

UP NEXT:

Cambodia's capital Phnom Penh & Siem Reap

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Crossing Mocbai-Bavet Border

I have to admit I had lots of apprehension crossing the Mocbai-Bavet border to Cambodia. Land border-crossing is never my favorite.
(I remembered taking the night train from Paris to Madrid. For the convenience of the passengers, a train steward would take our passports before bedtime – so that we can supposedly enjoy out cramped couches without being bothered with the immigration formalities! Meanwhile, at a particular city in Spain, the train would make a stop. The last 5 cars will be detached from the front cars that will then proceed to Madrid’s notorious Atocha station. I was pins and needles thinking, hmmm, what if they leave my passport behind while I was enjoying a sound sleep? What if I hopped on the wrong section?)
HORROR STORIES

Though my itinerary’s been planned, it took all my guts to finally buy a bus ticket to Cambodia. I also knew that once I buy my $20 ticket, there’s no turning back. Would be all-systems-go from there. If I wasn’t alone traveling, it would be a no-brainer, but traveling alone is trouble waiting to happen. I have read soooo many horror stories of border crossing from Lonely Planet to Fodor to web/blog entries.

One article mentioned that it’s a lot easier to get out of Vietnam than get right back in, and this statement actually echoed persistently in my mind. Wikipedia says, and I quote, "Immigration is notoriously strict." Not only that, some of them would allegedly ask for imaginary tariffs, currency exchange that's way off the market rate, etc. (Although such things were more common in less-visited borders, i.e. O Smach (Cam)-Chong Jom (Thai), Prum (Cam)-Daun Lem (Thai), and even the regularly traversed Poipet-Koh Kong border from Thailand.)

Another source of concern is, I have never met a Pinoy who has crossed the border (there should be thousands now). Common sense dictates though that Pinoys must have passed this way before. Nevertheless, it didn't offer relief. Assumptions never do! Most Pinoys I know “fly”; and those who do not, have passports other than a Philippine passport. Since Pinoys are visa-free, I reckon it would be easier for me than other backpackers who had to pay $25 passport processing fee on site. So…

I mustered enough courage and off I went. John Williams’ “Jaws Theme” was humming in my head.

“GOOD GIRLS”
I was ready as early as 5AM. I went down and didn’t have the heart to wake the lady sleeping at the foyer. I wanted to go out and look for food, though I wasn’t hungry. A nearby go-go bar was still blaring loud garage music. I turned toward DeTham and got offered, “Good girls! Good girls!” Some Caucasians were already carrying their Vietnamese girls. It’s really the same everywhere – Paris or Luxembourgh, Patpong or Jakarta. Although I have to admit that this trade isn’t as pronounced in Vietnam as it is elsewhere. Further on, some more guys offered their business, “Cheap girls, very pretty!” or “Nice girls work hard for you!” What a way to start my morning. One was tugging at my sleeve, pointing to a girl at a dark corner. She can't be over 16. Geesh! She was licking a lollipop. If that was meant as a tease, it looked awkward and silly to me.
I was told that my bus would pick me up at 5:30AM. Someone finally came at 6. We rode a car to where the Sapaco bus was parked. Our baggages were deposited at the backseat, and I took my seat 2 rows in front of the bags. Three Canadians were seated in front of me; an old French guy infront of them. The whole row of seats was all mine so I was pleased with myself. Ten minutes into the departure, the driver’s assistant started giving away a packed meal (ham sandwich and a bottle of water) which was amazingly part of the $20.

Our SAPACO bus - airconditioned, spacious, and only 60% occupied

“NEAR , FAR, WHEREVER YOU ARE…”
The road we travelled is well maintained, so it was one comfortable ride, except for the music that kept playing during the whole trip. I mean, how much more can you take of Celine Dion’s “My Heart Will Go On” played 6x – it sure made me wanna hit some icebergs and sink the Titanic.
I amused myself by observing the scene as it constantly changed. Half way into the trip, we reached the province of Tay Ninh (famed for their local festivities), then, the border town of Mocbai. Our passports were collected ($25 fees were also collected from the other foreigners who needed visa, and none from me) by the bus assistant, and I relaxed. Everyone seemed so. The border building is an imposing structure. We got off our bus, made a queue at the border’s immigration counter, and waited for 10-15 minutes. Then our passports were returned to us. No interviews. We walked through the counter, passed a small duty-free shop; showed our passport to the immigration police at the exit, and went out. The very same bus was waiting for us at the other side.



Border immigration counter (the 3 Canadians at the center)

BRIBES ANYONE?

Now here’s what I observed. As we got back to our seats, the driver and his assistants deposited loads of bottled water at the police quarters from each side. Bribe? Could be. This would facilitate a faster transfer. No more manual checking of baggages- as that would take forever. Every tourist should take a Sapaco bus when crossing the border to avoid transfering to a different bus at the other side of the border, and you didn’t have to disembark your baggages anymore. That said, I settled back to my seat.
Whew!! That was easy!

The road: Vietnam Side (Mocbai, Tay Ninh)



RURAL KAMPUCHEA
The next kilometers (a constituent of the province of Svay Rieng) were lined by big KTV establishments, casinos, and massage parlors; many of these places serve allegedly as prostitution fronts, much like the same establishments in Haiphong City (Vietnam’s 3rd biggest city) south of Hanoi.

It was a good moment to observe local color. The roadsides were underwater - farmlands, marshes and wetlands - water hyacinths of wild pink, lilies in white and purple lotuses were abloom. 75% of Cambodia lives off farming.

I took note of the town names as we passed them by - Chiphou, Prasot, then the provincial capital of Svay Rieng’s imposing building; Kraul Kor, then NEAK LOEUNG, where we stopped for a bit.
Now that was a treat!

The road: Cambodian side (Bavet, Svay Rieng)


Our bus got on a ferry to cross the river. I have been wanting to cruise the Mekong River. I regretted not having had enough time in HCMC for a Mekong Cruise (it was 2 hours away, and I'd need an extra full day to do so). MEKONG at no extra cost! I got off the bus for some fresh air as we sailed the Mekong. 15 minutes later, we were on land again.
As we reached Banteay Dek, the roads got a little rough. Potpoles abound and the last hour to Phnom Penh got a bit uncomfortable. I wasn’t complaining though.





Cambodian Immigration Police

Update:

Here's my 2nd crossing in the same border, but going the opposite direction a year after (2008):

http://eye-in-the-blue-sky.blogspot.com/2008/10/phnom-penh-to-saigon-crossing-bavet.html