Main | September '05- Khorat and Ayutthaya »
March 11, 2006
A recap...(1) Arrival (2) Burma
The following are some of my emails to family and friends from the past six months to get things up to speed:
September 2005
This is definitely not Kansas!
I arrived Monday, excited and ready to rumble. PSI's driver met me at
the airport and helped me lug my 70 lb bags back to my apt. Thank god
he met me, if I was on my own, there would be no way i could have made
it. The rumors are true; this city is nuts! I figure I'll fill you in
as best I can now, because once I start work on Monday the emails will
likely be much shorter.
I woke up early Tuesday morning, surprisingly refreshed, both of my
roommates left for work. I kinda wandered around my apartment not
really knowing what to do, so I decided to take a swim. There is a
huge pool right on my floor(8th Floor) Then I decided to venture out.
Never in my mind did I imagine it to be this difficult to get around.
Note to travellers, those who claim everyone here speaks English are
lying unless your restrict yourself to tourist areas where i do not
live. Since I do not live on a major street navigation is extremely
difficult. My roommates say even Thai people have difficulty with
directions, this is no Florida grid map. So I walked out onto the
street, passed the many street vendors who initially scared me, but by
the end of the day I ate their delights. Brandon- I have begun my
parasite infection. However, I have learned that when in doubt
smile. Thai people are very gentle and friendly people although this
might be hard to gage from the crazy driving and anything goes
attitude. ex: motorbike taxi's will drive against traffic- considering
I'd like a couple more years out of life ihave opted to take the ever
so sturdy :) mini red buses. A little boy collects the 5 baht=12
cents fee and you are left to hop off and throw yourself on the bus as
it slows, notice I don't really say stops. There is really no mapped
route, so hop on with discretion and an open-mind to the unknown
destination. My first task, topping up my cell phone and getting a
number. Not an easy job when nobody speaks english. After three
7-elevens, ubiquitous like starbucks in new york, finally i figured
out that topping up phones is quite different here then in london. I
was tired and frustrated. This is one of the many simple tasks that
become a sweaty mess. Then I headed back to get dressed to head over
to work, where I was to meet my new co-workers and boss. With the
address in hand, I decided to take a taxi b/c I had no clue where the
BTS (metrorail) was located and I thought I would save myself the
embarrassment of showing up like I just took a swim. Nevermind that
the address for work was the English name and after hopping in three
different cabs I finally asked to be taken to the U.S. Embassy because
I knew work was somewhere near the Embassy. The funnies thing is that
so many taxis say I love farangs(foriengers) and claim they speak
english, but once you are in you recognize the sham. The
cost of taking a 30 minute taxi ride=62 baht= $1.50. Finally I made
it to work and naturally my jet lag hit 5 minutes before walking in
the door. The office staff is awesome and i really like all the people
I will be working with, including my direct boss. The only western
people in the office are myself, my boss and a Frenchmen. The
building is ridiculously modern, with a five floor shopping mall
downstairs. This was refreshing after aimlessly wandering around my
hot apartment and the Thong Lo (where I live) area. I also should
mention, our apartment does not have A/C, imagine Florida without A/C,
no hot water and overlooks pretty depressing housing; this would
likely be considered the slums in the U.S. Also, every night dozens
of dogs are barking. Glad i got that Rabies shot. :) My room rivals
that of my dorm room at Holborn in London minus a window or a bedframe, those of you who know, this is not such a great thing.
After leaving work, John Carroll's friend, David picked me up and we
walked back to his place where he gave me extra sheets and towels. It
was GREAT to be with someone who knew where they were going. I had to
stop and get flip flops because walking an extra 3 hours in my little
heels murdered my lil' toes. David paid, however, to put this in
perspective, it was 8 baht for shoes= 20 cents. David got me a taxi
home and when I arrived I crashed. Feel asleep at 6pm for the night.
My nomadic roommate Morgan, who has scaled all parts of the world told
me she was so overwhelmed the second day she was here she did not
leave the apartment. I think things are likely much different making a
trip here versus living here. Needless to say, my first day was far
from what I envisioned, but things were much better when I woke up
this morning after loads of sleep. I underestimated the flight.
I was up at 6:30 and Morgan and i went to the park to take a run. To
get there you take a little bus to the BTS station. INitally I
thought she was mad for going through all this work just to run in a
park, but it was really easy and only took about 15 minutes. The way
buses operate is that you throw your arm out, like hailing a taxi and
the bus stops wherever you are. No bus stops. Then we got on the BTS.
i purchased a BTS card and it comes out to 20 cents per ride. The BTS
is super clean and reliable, it runs above the city. A far cry from
the 2pounds a trip for the tube. On the way home we got breakfast on
the street. 25 cents!
I can tell though that much of my frustration was a result of jet lag
and once I am rested I should be ok. The city is awesome; this is a
crazy crazy place though. Really dirty and I constantly am showering
because it is so hot making the nonexistent hot water not such a bad
thing.
SO FUNNY TO REREAD THIS NOW 6 MONTHS INTO THE MADNESS OF BANGKOK.
October 2005
Burma-
NOTE: Benj is Angela's cousin who is in school in London
Returning home from the over the top, circus of
a gym, I run home to meet Benjamin who has been in town for less than
24 hours to turn around and head to Mae Sot, on the border of
Mayawadi, Myanmar/ Burma. Depending on who you are, you change the
name. USAID only references this region as Burma because the US does not recognize Myanmar.
However, for work when email the Burma, the office is a stickler for Myanmar, primarily because the gov't filters everything. This makes editing work documents oh so exciting. We jet to the BTS and
leisurely head to Mo Chit bus station. The end of the BTS is still a
few miles, so a taxi is necessary, which always complicates things on
a Friday night. Bangkok traffic...'nuf said.
We jump in and are greeted by what appears to be 5
tennis balls stuffed in a man's face... yes, his face is huge, swollen
and clearly tumorous. The 10 minute cab ride I was
fighting not to stare, I felt like my inner doctor was trying to make
a diagnosis. We arrive ar 9:25 for the 9:30 bus only to confront the
daunting bus terminal and sold out Mae Sot tickets.
So naturally, being llittle geographers were break open the lonely
planet and pick the nearest town of tak. 380 baht later we were on
the way to tak, not quite the destination in mind, but from there we
were hoping to catch another bus to mae sot. we take our seats and teh
driver blares the radio confirming that static is that much worse when
covering another language. i could not fall asleep for the entire 8
hour journey. i excitedly hoped on the bus at tak and sat in a hut
reminiscent of summer camp days. it was 4am, i was tired and other
than ubiquitous stray dogs that roam all over the country, 4 drunk
transgenders stumbled around doing their best catwalk imitation. I
coincidentally walked by a stuffed van around 5:30 and luckily this was
headed to mae sot. another 30baht and we were on our way but not
before being stuffed into a chrysler sized minivan with 19 people!
Ben was lucky and shared a fold out chair with a tiny Burmese man. I
could not sleep as I was wedged between a breastfeeding mother holding a screaming
child who had been screaming and sick the entire 8 hours from Bangkok and
the window. Looking around, I wanted
so badly to take a picture, but witheld. And while stuffing 18
passengers into the van seems like a good idea to the driver, Ben
forewarned the elusive slow pace. The hilly landscape makes for
stunning scenery, however, it does not help a stalling van that is
overweight. The van would have lost to a geriatric walker. But as
soon as the van hurdled the hill, the driver would milk the slope for
all it was worth. We hopped off in Mae Sot. It's now 7am and after no
sleep we take a one hour power nap, grab breakfast at a local joint
and head to the border. Again, our choices of transportation always
proved to be one off mark. The tuk-tuk driver was a large women who
did not understand Myanmar/Burma. Of course she had her son along, so it was a nice cozy ride and in typical efficient style the 5 minute journey took 15 minutes
because her tuk-tuk was on it's last piece of string and soo slow. I
cannot decide which was faster the van uphill or the tuk-tulk. We
arrive at the border. I'm donning my new camera, excited to
snap away, but Ben tells me to withhold my urge so as not to get my
camera nicked by the gov't. Myanmar is a very dodgy country. We go
through Thai customs and the official reminds us of the 5 pm closing
time; you cannot be over there longer than the day without a visa. The border closes
at 5 and you leave your passport with the Burmese immigration, so you really would
never keep yourself in this country without a passport. The human
rights record, waging war, opium crisis preclude you from disobeying
the time allotted. You pay the USD cash entry fee, obviously corrupt in itself, and you are on your way.
We cross the Friendship Bridge and enter Myanmar. On
the way over the bridge we are greeted by Tom, a Burmese guy wwho
claims to teach English in Mae Sot and was heading back becaus there
was no class on Saturday. tom's english was excellent. His
friendship with the guard immediately struck as ood. He was no teacher
and certainly no random cordial guy. He was a military/gov't
intelligence guy who follwoed us the entire day and attempted to
befriend us. He was very nice, but really was there to ensure we did
not overstep our boundaries. In retrospect, this sounds totally crazy, as Burma
and perhaps Cambodia are arguably the most corrupt governments in the world.
Our friend who had previously made the trip had warned
us that we woudl be followed. being one of four westerners to cross
the border that day and conspicuously white, blending in is
impossible. Tom took us to the temples and wanted to know loads of
things about us. He did kinda look out for us and helped translate. I never felt in danger, but
I must concede that I was nervous most of the day. I avoided any government officials and stayed within the city limits.
Tom also directed where we were allowed to be and where not to go.
Also, what not to photograph. I abided as I jsut went into debt
purchasing my camera and I was not about to get it taken away.
Anything with a Burmese flag, military related or official was not to
be photographed. The unpaved roads made everything dusty and the
stale air intensified the heat. Ben spent some time in Rwanda and said this town was similar to
the rural area. It was brutally hot and we wandered
around, of course followed by hoards of bike-rickshaws who begged to
take us on a 5 baht ride. Separated by less than a mile, but what
felt like a world apart, Burma was vividly poorer and the some sights
were dreadful. The people fell in to two categories; either
intensely interested in who we were or did not give a rat';s ass. On our
way through the city there was a huge funeral procession where dozens
of people sat in pick up truck vans lead by monks .
For a moment I thought it was a scene in a movie. A dozen men piled
in the back of a pickup, dirt, solemn faces...Perhaps the most touching
event of the day was Ben's patient locating us a the market nd
insisting we come bck to her home. I was a bit nervous at first,
because I was not about to bend any of the rules regarding our
whereabouts. She lived around the corner. Her home doubled as the local
mosque. They wanted to feed us, but we were able to convince her only
to have us for coffee. Psychologically I felt like I lost the
greatest germ war. Even my Purell was not strong enough. Ben, speaking in a regular tone english, as they did not understand us,
said we could not leave until i finished my coffee, half of which was cream. Unable to hurdle my mental block about so many things regarding this simple coffee, I thanked the lady and
drank the coffee in one sip in a delusional thought that by drinking it quickly I would
not get sick. My stomach hurt just from thinking
about it. I complained that I might get sick later. Ben said, 'that makes two of us, i'm lactose intolerant'
Posted by rpropper at March 11, 2006 8:11 AM
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