Driving circles in Burma - to Mandalay and beyond!

Time limits in Burma demanded difficult decision-making: where to go, where not to go. I highly dislike this process because I prefer to go see it all. But, I figured of all the potential decisions to be stuck with in the world, this wasn't so bad. With that, Mandalay, just another city, lost the deal and the next destination was Bagan, the city of Temples. Coco told us that getting there straight from the Golden Rock was challenging, with no direct route. It seemed simply passing through Mandalay, with a bus transfer in Bago City, was the best option to Bagan as Coco assured us it was a mere 16km away from Mandalay, a quickie ride. It was all working out and so we booked tickets without checking maps or guide books, but on the sole trust of Coco. 

The bus heading to Bago City left on time (this was getting weird) and thus far, Burma had proven itself to be pretty chill: not a lot of people, absolutely nobody hounding you to buy anything or trying to swindle. It's easy to get into that laid back mode, and I learned in Bago, just as easy to get out. When I got off the bus, still half asleep from my unfinished nap, people were moving very quickly and frantically. I honestly thought something was wrong because they were moving as though reacting to an emergency. 

This put me right back into "guard up" mode, as men were grabbing our bags, throwing them on tuk-tuks, telling us to get on the back of the motorbike, all at very high volumes and very quick movements, never telling us where we were going or why we needed to move. As any good traveler would have done, we firmly "said" back in high volumes: give us our bags, don't touch my stuff, where are we going??, why?? and there's no way in hell we are leaving our packs in a tuk-tuk that we aren't on. Finally, some guy says, "I'm Mr. So and So, friends with Coco, it's OK, we are here to bring you to the next bus station". Having already put my trust in Coco, I felt better hearing his name alongside some explanations. Marj got on the tuk-tuk anyway to safe-guard our bags while Paul and I hopped on motorbikes. 

At the restaurant/bus station, we had a chance to actually talk to the men man-handling us and our stuff and learned they were nice, genuinely helpful guys. With a few hours to spare, they directed us to one of the most crowded and busiest markets I've ever been to, which confirmed that Bago City was drastically different from anywhere else in Burma, including Yangon. It had its own culture of hustle and bustle with a lot of people, vehicles, traffic, food, noises, honks, and all that jazz. That description sounds like any other city, I know, but this couldn't be any more different; the smells, the people and the feeling of it was different...I can't really explain it.

After I got myself some deep fried deliciousness at the market (most dishes in Burma revolve around oil and a deep fried food stand lives on every corner, like Starbucks in the Western world) we made our way back to the restaurant/bus station for pre-night bus dinner and beers. It was here we realized Bagan is, in fact, NOT 16km from Mandalay as our trusted friend Coco told us. Get ready for this smack in the face......Bagan is 400 km from Mandalay! With the new-found realization of an 10 hour bus to Bagan instead of a "quickie ride", we became angry with ourselves for not checking first. Yet, we also knew it'd all work itself out. 

The bus was late, only because it was pouring, and while waiting the strangest thing happened. One of the helpful men from earlier in the day, came up to me to tell me why the bus was late (the rain, clearly) to ensure nobody would be upset. We had the "wait for the bus" thing down pat by now, basically just eat, drink a few beers and all is good in the world, so we weren't bothered much. I found it all sweetly strange to get an unprovoked explanation for tardiness in SE Asia....Burma was surprising me on the regs! When the bus arrived 1 hour later, we discovered we had scored a delightfully comfortable overnight bus. Blankets, head pillows, squishy chairs AND the perfect temperature caused me to sleep like a rock.

Which is possibly why we missed our stop the next morning in Mandalay. Suddenly, we arrived to an old colonial town called Pyin Oo Lwin (POL), about 1.5 hours north of Mandalay. In any Western country, the bus driver would have told us "too bad, you should've woken up", but here, the bus driver paid for a taxi ride to get us back to Mandalay. We felt bad about this and I think would've even stayed in the cute town of POL if we had more time, but time was something we didn't have much of.  We needed to get to Mandalay in order to catch a bus to Bagan, which was all still unknown.

Finally in the Mandalay bus station (after about 19 hours of traveling), we bought tickets for an overnight bus to Bagan, that same night. With this plan, we had the day in Mandalay and decided to go explore and eat. After haggling a ride into town and arriving to a particular vegetarian restaurant we were curious about, we learned the place was closed for a month...figures! Good news is we got a picture of the cool sign at the closed restaurant: "Be kind to animals by not killing them" (it was as though I had died and gone to heaven, floating on clouds with people just like me), and met 2 super nice people who directed us to a tea house to "eat with the Burmese". Best advice of the day.

The teahouse was bumpin and we were served by 5 young boys (about 12 years old) who literally stared at us for hours, since we ended up being there for hours. We ate some delish foods, my fave being the Burmese pastry salad, and hung out with some amazing people. The best part of my day was meeting DeBhin, an 87 year old Burmese man who approached our table, and once confirmed Marj and I were American, asked to join us. It turned out that DeBhin studied in America (Hawaii) for 2 years on a scholarship, and taught English in Burma since his return, decades ago. Every Burmese person we met loved America (they'd all cheer "Obama" because he visited a year ago and made the Burmese proud!), but DeBhin loved America more than anybody. He traveled a bit during his time in the states (late 40's/early 50's) and adored it. He shared that there were 2 places in the south who wouldn't let him inside because he was brown, but that experience didn't taint his overall view of the country or the people. He said he was forever grateful to America for the educational opportunity, the scholarship and for all of the wonderful and helpful people he met there. Yet another impressive and lovely human being. 

**DeBhin also confirmed that school is only covered by the government until the 3rd grade, about 8/9 years old. Since it's the families responsibility to pay for school, many kids don't (and aren't required to) continue. Hence why every teahouse was staffed by young boys, not attending school.

An hour and a half and some donuts later, DeBhin floated out of our lives and the next cool person made their way in. A young boy of 6 years old, encouraged by his mom, approached Marj to practice his English. We ended up hanging with his mom and uncle (who had to go back to work, but never did. I guess Burma has that in common with the rest of SE Asia!) for an hour and then decided to take us on an outing. In Thailand, PCVs called this Thai-napping, because it's like being kidnapped: never knowing where you were going, what you were doing, or mainly, how long it'd take. So, we were being Burmese-napped but I was stoked about it! Mainly because I was a tourist and wanted to hang with the locals as much as possible. 

With not much to Mandalay, we had decided to climb the 760 feet up Mandalay Hill to scope out a view of the flat city and some statues. There's a large standing Buddha pointing an outstretched arm towards the royal palace. Here, I provide you another Buddha legend. His outstretched arm is meant to indicate the locale of Burma's future capital (btw, the country has moved capitals umpteen times); apparently Buddha hiked this hill long ago and said in the 2400th year of his faith, a great city would be found below the hill. According to Lonely Planet, that would've been in 1857 when the King at that time, did in fact order the capitals move to Mandalay....coincidence? Who knows.

On our way to Mandalay Hill, we enjoyed seeing kids getting picked up from school, traffic, food and life on the streets of Mandalay. As much as I enjoyed our teahouse, after 4 hours it was nice to walk around, stretch my legs and see some life! The young 6 year old son of the woman Burmese-napping us had to go to his afternoon schooling, but he walked with us a bit; while walking, he grabbed my hand and held it until we parted ways. It was quite sweet.

We climbed up Mandalay Hill and enjoyed the view with our new friend. Marj enjoyed a tarot card reading and later we got dinner and beers to prepare for the next night bus to Bagan. It was an unexpected wonderful day in Mandalay. I believe all of the mix-ups with buses was fate, to give us time there and the opportunity to meet the special people we did.  

The Rock that is Golden

The Golden Rock is, well, a rock that is gold. But the real snazzy thing about this golden rock is that half of it sits atop a mountain while the other half hangs off the edge. I know, so snazzy. Reaching the shrine is a major religious feat Burmese Buddhists dream of achieving before they die. Getting there initially meant climbing Mt. Kyaiktiyo, an 11km pilgrimage from bottom to top, and after the brief encounter with the sincerity of Buddhism here, my desire to hike this bad-boy had increased 10-fold. 

The legend of the rock (spoken in a Lord of the Rings narrator-type voice) is that in the 11th Century, King Tissa was given a Buddha hair from a hermits head and was told to search for a boulder, same shape as the hermits head, then enshrine the hair in a stupa on top. It's now said that the Buddha hair is what holds this rock up. Most temples' claim to fame is a Buddha hair, so not all that impressive, but thought it'd be cool to check out what this was all about.

The bus ride from Yangon was smooth and actually left on time which is quite the accomplishment. There was a quick transfer stop to hop on a song-taew to Kintun, the town at the base of the mountain. Shortly after getting on the song- taew, a young man hopped on and introduced himself as Coco, owner of a guesthouse. Sassy marketing skills to hop aboard the mode of transportation with the few tourists who come out this way, before anybody else can get to them! So, guess where we stayed? Yes, we stayed at Coco's place.

Unfortunately, time in Burma was precious with only 2 weeks in country, sadly hindering us from completing the bad-ass 11km pilgrimage (amongst other things in Burma). Instead we had to take a truck that would drop us off at a "truck stop", allowing us to walk about 45 minutes to the rock, the same afternoon we arrived. The last bus would leave the top at 6pm, so we figured we would make it just in time if we got the process moving quickly. The trucks leave when full so we got on one that already had people on it. What we didn't know was that the people on the truck were from a Thai tourist group. Tour groups are always the worst, let alone Thai ones, solely because whenever there is a Thai involved, there is waiting. It's how they've perfected the art of patience. As if things couldn't get worse, a Chinese tour group gets on the truck after us. Why.is.this.happening? The 3 of us waiting on a truck chock full of tour groups was not how I envisioned the afternoon. 

Please give me a moment to describe these trucks. They were enormous, open-air monster trucks in which passengers sat on top with semi-cushioned metal bar seats. The trucks were so high we had to climb stairs to enter and exit them. Despite the open-air, sitting on top whilst not moving got hot and steamy, and not in the good way. Still to this day, I have no idea what we were waiting for, but we waited in that damn truck with the tour groups for 2 hours before we heard the engine roar, even though the truck was at full capacity the whole time. The start of the engine brought on cheers from the crowd!

Now, please give me a moment to describe the ride. HOLY SHIT!!!!!!!! about sums it up. Apparently we got Psycho Driver of the Year behind the wheel to drive up this insanely steep mountain with some serious inclines along very narrow roads, at a speed that was exhilarating yet slightly concerning. I do think I was more delighted at the adrenaline rush than anything and the ride itself offered some stunning views....it was delightful.

We stopped mid-way up for about 20 minutes to let the trucks coming down pass, as the road is too narrow for 2-way traffic. Our time was cutting close and we were afraid that we wouldn't have enough time at the top after the 45 minute climb up and down. Well, not to worry because the truck, unbeknownst to us, took us to the very top. Didn't 2 years living amongst Thai's teach me that a group of Thai's would never hike 45 minutes up a steep incline?! Yet it never crossed my mind! 

So, there we were at the top with a hazy, cloudy mist hanging over us, limiting the views. We took a look at the Golden Rock and it was exactly what one would think, a golden rock. Somewhat underwhelming, as most destinations like this are. Please don't mistake me for a Negative Nancy because I do love that stuff, but I always feel the journey is the real adventure, not the destination.

Thus far I have forgotten to inform you of a Golden Rock Rule: women aren't allowed to touch or go near the rock. Yes, that's a rule. We took some fun photos, you know the kind when it looks like you are holding up the rock with a pinky, and carried on back down the mountain....via truck. A different driver provided a much calmer ride down.

That night we went out into the sleepy town of Kintun for a snack and a beer at a local tea house. We were welcomed with a heavy downpour, forcing us to stay and have another beer....oh such tragedies :) It provided the opportunity to watch 2 sweet 12 year old boys working there make paper boats and send them off in the water that flooded the dirt streets. 

The following morning, determined to hike a portion of this pilgrimage, albeit a short one, Paul and I set out at 6am to catch a truck that would drop us off at the "truck stop", 45 minutes (by foot) from the top. It was a tough walk, but it was good exercise and we got to engage in the exchange of regular greetings with every local we passed. We got ourselves a much more clear view that was quite beautiful. We walked a bit further on as there were various ridge paths we would've loved to explore, but time was precious and so we had to get moving to make our way back down the mountain to catch our next bus.

Although we couldn't explore as much as I would've liked, this little journey back up the mountain enabled me to put my feelings about Burma into words.  No matter where you go, whether it's "touristy" (I quote this because although there are places that attract a lot of tourists and Burma is becoming a desirable destination, yet it's one of the least touristy places in SE Asia (as of right now) because her borders were closed for so long) or not, the Burmese people continue to live their lives whether foreigners come to visit or not. It's nice when you see people living as they were, before and after you, with no need to rely on your (meaning, the tourist) existence.  I hope you check out my facebook page to see the photos of Burma (thanks to Paul) that are mostly of daily life.  It surrounded us everywhere we went and was very refreshing.

The next bus was leaving at 1:30 and surprisingly once again, left on time. I began to wonder if Burma didn't take part in Asian time, meaning at least 4 hours late with various crazy stops and stalls in the midst of the trip.....

Heading west to Burma!

Bangkok seems to grow on me the more I go, yet I suspected this short visit would be the last for a while. We met up with Paul and for the next 2 days ran around getting Visas and perfectly crisp US dollars, as Burma only accepts and exchanges local currency for brand spankin new USD's. We were told that banks in Bangkok are aware of this and could easily accommodate this need, yet somehow we searched for an an entire afternoon, to no avail. I ended up sprinting 1km at the end of the day to reach a particular bank before closing. Since I'd been engaging in my hobby of running less and less frequently, this was uncomfortable enough to remind me I needed a good run.

Marj and I paid the Peace Corps staff a visit and later that night, Kevin the Country Director took Marj, Paul and myself out for dinner; the visits were great and brought back positive memories. The second night, we not-so-surprisingly ran into American Nick (the guy we consistently and randomly bumped into while in Laos with the "hey guys") and hung out on Khao San Road listening to amazing live music with the most passionate drummer I've ever seen, while sipping Leo beers on ice. It doesn't get much better than that. 

The following, and last night in Bangkok before our early morning flight to Burma, Marj, Paul and I hung out drinking until we had to get in a cab for the airport. This was a major set-up for an exhausted arrival into the city of Yangon, but it was a really good time.

We arrived in Yangon airport and were picked up by a driver from the guesthouse we were staying in (Motherland Inn 2). Marj and the young Burmese driver hit it off (grandmama and grandson) and he gave Marj his cell phone number in case she needed help at some point. The first person we met and I was already in love with him....too sweet. At the guesthouse we ate breakfast while waiting for our room and in the interim, Paul met a young English journalist, Rory, who was interning in Yangon. Rory informed Paul that our first night in Yangon was the Opening Ceremony to Myanmar's very first film festival (being held in Yangon) which was focusing on human rights. Myanmar has a spectacularly oppressive history and we knew this was going to be huge.

A chilled out afternoon led us to the Opening Ceremony with Rory, Tanya (cool Canadian chick) and Chris (Singapore/American) which hosted impressive speakers from all over the world. Aung San Suu Kyi (by most Burmese aka Auntie) couldn't attend but had someone read a speech on her behalf. After speeches were completed, one of the documentaries featuring a young political prisoner from the 1988 Revolution was shown. It was a powerful film that was informative and frustrating, yet hopeful.

Here's a quick bit on Burma's history. While talking, I almost always use Burma, but within the text I use both Burma and Myanmar interchangeably. Myanmar is made of various states with many different ethnic groups whom, historically, have experienced discrimination and prejudiced treatment. Burma was a British colony until 1947 when Aung San, political leader, led his people to fight and gain independence from England. Amongst many positive things, Aung San and this party agreed to give the ethnic groups what they have always desired, to be independent states. The  agreement was that these states could secede within 10 years of the nations independence (1958), but sadly and not so ironically, Aung San and 6 other leaders were assassinated (by the oppressors) before seeing the agreement through. Destabilization within the country was almost immediate. Since, there have been multiple violent coup's and revolutions within the country, killing and imprisoning thousands. Human rights have been notoriously abused over the years.

Aung San died when his daughter, Aung San Suu Kyi (Auntie) was only 2 years old. She carried on with her life until she was drawn to help her country and continue the mission her father sought after so many years ago. She, amongst thousands of others were made political prisoners after the 1988 revolution (3,000 protestors killed by military coup). Aunty spent a total of 12 years in house arrest and has become the face, savior and desired leader of Burma. The current military government have found various "legal" reasons to prevent her from running, yet there is hope that in 2015 she will be able to be elected. Let's keep our fingers crossed.

Currently, my understanding of the political sitch is such that the states want to elect representatives to make state laws, similar to America's state vs. federal concept. The intention is to strip the oppressive military government of its power but also for each state to be represented by their distinct ethnic group and have some laws unique to their own. Originally, in 1947, an official secession was to be granted therefore I'm not sure if this a compromise or simply a new goal.

**The original name of the country was Burma and it was changed to Myanmar to be inclusive of all the ethnic groups. Although the concept of inclusion is positive, it was changed without ever consulting the people and for this reason, Auntie prefers Burma. The people use both, yet while I was there, I heard Burma being used most often.

After the ceremony, we had dinner at the first of many tea houses we would sit in throughout our time in Burma. It's where all the Burmese people go and it's a culture unto itself. Obviously, there's tea, but there's also coffee and a few various Burmese dishes available. The staff, about five 13 year old boys, were paralyzed when they saw us enter the teahouse and brought over a man from a different store who spoke some English to help us order. Despite these efforts, miscommunication caused three extra, unordered meals to come out. They were super grateful when we said we would still pay for the food and to box it up for take-away.

The next morning we were up and at em' crazy early for a sunrise at Schwedagon pagoda, the most significant and well known in the country. Every-day people were there going about their religious business of making merit (give offerings to the monks and pagoda, including chant prayers, etc) as though it was any other temple, giving me the first taste of authenticity regarding Burmese Buddhism. Nothing seemed to be for show, just a pure, strong following of beliefs. Many monks were present, meditating in solitude, while others were a bit different. One monk approached me to chat away while another shamelessly took photos of each of us on his phone. The fact that he even had a phone was quite un-Buddhist of him, but we got a good chuckle out of it anyway.

Later that morning, we all made our way to the cinema to attend the first showing including 3 films. The first, Go Home, was about Burmese refugees who've crossed the border into Thailand, living amongst the rubbish dumps to earn a living of picking and selling recyclables. The poor health conditions and this youth patrol to guard against thieves at night, brought tears to my eyes. The second film Agape, about a community of illegal Burmese refugees in Thailand. Most of the kids there were sold by their parents, orphaned or ran away from their dangerous villages (1 kid said the military government went to his village and beheaded people - the rebellion army recruits young children to fight back and he left to avoid recruitment). David, an awesome Burmese guy in the village opened a school with everything he had and various donations to help the children and community. It was inspiring. The last was regarding the dangers a North Korean family faces in their escape to safety in South Korea. All were impressive and insightful and afterwards, we were lucky to meet the festival organizer and pay our respects and admiration for his enormous accomplishment.

Marj stayed for every showing while Paul land I went for a city walking tour including: Inya lake, Auntie's house where she was imprisoned, another pagoda and market. We stopped at a tea house for lunch that was also staffed by a bunch of young boys, clearly excited to be serving us. We began to wonder why none of these kids were at school. 

Later that night I took a walk and got some Shan noodles on the street. Through charades and a few english words, it was understood that I don't eat meat.  I got excited when they handed my bowl to me and there was a spoonful of chick peas (garbanzo beans), my favorite bean of all time, on top. I dug in and in the first bite realized the beans was actually chicken. Everybody at the little stand was watching me anyway to see my reaction to the food, and I looked up and said "chicken" and they said "yes, chicken" and I said "no meat please" and they said, " no meat, chicken". Gotta love it. It was all dealt with smoothly however as they just scooped the pile of chicken off of the noodles, handed it back to me and charaded "eat", so that's what I did. And it was damn good.

Next morning we were up early to make our way to the Golden Rock. 

Back in the hood

Back in Thailand. We entered the border through a province called Ubonratchatani in the Northeast region, and stayed overnight with a PCV friend, Joel. Coming from Laos, Thailand was a huge change. The bus we drove on for 1 hour to Joel's place was deliciously air conditioned and comfortable. The main roads were nicely paved and I suddenly realized, large....things that eluded me while living there. I sat on the steps at the front of the bus as I got shafted from a seat for someone I assume had booked a ticket before us. I appreciate when locals treat foreigners the same as anybody else, the special treatment always makes me uncomfortable. I enjoyed the man I sat with as well, so I was quite content on the steel steps.

Joel hooked us up with butt loads of vegetables and I cooked my first meal in over 2 months, which was quite delish, if I must say so myself. We had a great time catching up with our good friend and getting back into Thai village life while hanging out with his awesome neighbors over a few Leo beers. The next day we were off to Northern Thailand. 

We took an overnight bus to Chiang Mai and in the morning got on another bus heading to our destination of Soppong, a less touristy area known for its caves. Interestingly, I never knew Thailand had caves so this was news to me! Many PCV friends suggested the Cave lodge, a lodge placed 10km outside of the main town, smack in the midst of rural hill tribe villages. It was beautiful, but after 2 days of traveling from Laos, we were exhausted. For the first time on the trip I didn't feel like doing anything; 3 months of on-the-go traveling had finally caught up with me and I holed myself in the room for the rest of the night - it was exactly what I needed. 

The next morning, feeling rested and more like myself, we met a few travelers at breakfast. They had told us that the map provided by John, the Australian owner, although appeared detailed was completely inaccurate which led to aimless walking. Marj and I were not in any kind of rush and left late morning for a day of aimless walking. Eventually we sat at a noodle shop for lunch and got to know the adorable noodle lady. An hour later, we left with a new friend and a bag of bananas. I continued walking on by myself, determined to make the map workable, but ended up walking along a very steep inclined road for an hour that lead me to nowhere. The simplicity of being by myself in the midst of the forest was perfect.

One of the largest caves in Thailand happens to live in Soppong. Tham Lod cave is a 1.6 km long cave surrounding a small river that is visited by flocks of Swifts (this is a bird, information I was unaware of before arrival!) in the evening. We ventured out that way in the evening and hopped on a bamboo raft with a Thai man poling our raft and a Thai lady with a kerosene lantern who would periodically tell us to look up at the bats, watch out for bat poop or to get out and look around. With our day chock full of aimless walking, Marj and I were happy to lazily sit in the raft and take in the distinctly awful smell of bat poop. 

Certain parts were shallow so our cute rafter would get out and pull us. Suddenly, he makes a startled noise, pulls us in the opposite direction and says ngoo, the Thai word for snake. I look to my right and see the biggest snake I've ever seen in the wild. It was at least 2 meters (6 feet) long and was colored greenish brown with yellow spots. Adrenaline kicked in and I was super excited, especially when he looked me in the eye and stuck his tongue out at me! 

On our way out, we met Michelle (hysterical English chick who we fell in love with) and Fernando (very nice, adventurous Spanish guy) outside of the cave. We began chatting, which turned into dinner and plans to attack that map the following day to find some caves. The following morning we also met up with Jenny, an enthusiastic and energetic New Yorker who knew Michelle. I put on my bad ass clunky hiking boots and set out with the team to find caves and hike big mountains! 

Well, we did follow the map, but once again ended nowhere. However, there was something called the Big Knob, pretty much a steep karst, which we tackled like we were on Survivor. We thought it would lead us to the opening of a big cave, but instead we got the simple satisfaction of climbing something quite steep. Though we were happy with our day, we cursed John for his shitty map that we decided was a ploy to get people to go on his tours! 

It being Michelle's birthday, we had a little birthday party for her with Thai cakes, muffins sunflower seeds and beer. The next morning, back to Chiang Mai, John tried to scare us into avoiding the local bus because he exclaimed it was too dangerous. There were many instances during our time here that John rubbed me, and everybody else, the wrong way - he was quite arrogant and condescending, so by this point I didn't trust him as far as I could throw him. The van he tried to bully us into was 3 times the price of the local bus, and according to him, the only safe way. Yes, he has lived in and explored Thailand for 30 years, but I was a poor Peace Corps volunteer and knew my way around a local bus. So local it was and alas, Marj and I are still alive (our driver was a brilliant and cautious driver). So take that, John.

We arrived in Chiang Mai and stayed in the same guesthouse as our lovely French friend Marion (whom we met in Laos) who we luckily spent much time with in Chiang Mai. It was great to be with her again. We also got lucky to meet up with Gil, an Israeli I met back in the Philippines and have kept in touch with. We spent the night eating good market food at the much loved Sunday walking street market. 

The following night, we all met again for a lovely dinner on the riverfront. Marion fit both Marj and I on her scooter - it was quite funny! Sadly, we said good-bye to Gil once again. The next day, I hopped on Marion's scooter and set out on an afternoon driving around the city, scoping out Marion's favorite spots. Later that night, she brought me to her favorite nightlife spots where we listened to great live music, drank too much and danced the night away.

The next morning, on 2 hours of sleep, Marion and I were struggling. Yet, we met up once again with the lovely Michelle and another guesthouse patron, Pia, for massages at the Women's prison special massage program. The ladies learn how to give Thai massages and can work the last 6 months of their jail time and save the money they earn. When they leave, they do so with some savings and a new skill. Now that's what I call rehabilitation. Brilliant. And so was the massage....thoroughly enjoyable.

On the road again, Marj and I said sad good-byes to Marion and Michelle and set out for Bangkok where we had to go for our Burmese visa.  Here we would meet with Paul to take care of biz and get on a plane to visit a country that 3 years ago, Americans and Brits couldn't enter....we were very excited.