Adventures in South East Asia

6 ~ Kalaw

Kalaw, Myanmar

My buddies from Bagan had taken off already on an earlier bus to Mandalay. I would be going solo until I hit the small town of Kalaw. It was a bit sad seeing Mariano's bed empty that morning when I woke up, but I quickly got over it when I realized how handy it would be to repack with two beds. As it turned out, I wasn’t lonely for long.

On the daytime bus, there were assigned seats and I kept walking until I found mine. I almost chuckled at my luck. There were maybe five non-Burmese people on the bus and I was slotted to sit next to one. Soon we were chatting and I found out the man next to me was American and a pharmacologist. He was heading off to a village to go on a meditation retreat which seems to be a growing trend in the West to East travel industry. He had practised back home and had been in contact with a monk out here. Now with a sabbatical from work, he would spend a few months doing just that.

After a little more conversation, I found out we had similar views on the over-medication of children to keep them complacent and some great discussion followed. I stuck firm to my belief we’re too quick to offer quick fixes with underplayed side effects. Maybe students just weren't meant to spend six hours a day at a desk? I knew I certainly wasn't. I shared some of my experiences in Thailand where I received gift bags full of drugs from the hospital only to come home to the internet and find that they weren’t FDA approved, nor should they be mixed. 

Conversation aside, the bus ride was extremely brutal on anyone with a sensitive stomach. Even the locals sat in the aisle, puking into more plastic bags than the Californian, I and surrounding passengers could supply. At least the bus company had the courtesy to provide moist towelettes. The unfortunate local riders were so prepared that they had even brought changes of clothes for themselves and their children. The air conditioning didn’t alleviate the stench of churned food. My stomach held strong on this ride, but the journey was still young.

In the end, it was worth it. Kalaw held to its promise of a trek, deemed absolutely amazing by some of my coworkers who visited on their holidays last year. Colleen, who I had met in Yangon, had told me she had booked a nearby room as well after we had exchanged a couple e-mails to meet up. For some reason, I was under the impression that I’d be forking out hundreds of dollars if I showed up alone since the tour price depended on group size. Plus, it was nice to see a familiar face after having to readjust to new people every few days.

Stepping off the bus, a small dusty town greeted me, as well as several guesthouse employees looking to scoop up business. I followed the guide from the one where I intended to meet Colleen. The Indian man leading the way showed me the room options, a couple colourful double beds squished into a room with a window. I managed to snag $7 US solo room without having to book a tour with the guest house. 

Once I had my room, I wandered out and found Colleen chatting with a woman. Fortunately, meeting up didn't take much effort. just sharing the name of the hotel I stayed at and since there wasn't much to do, she waited around. She shared her stories of the wonders South of Yangon like the Golden Rock, which sat perched upon a cliff. We also discussed the different trekking agencies in town and she shared that this guesthouse had been trash talking the one of the other quite successful agencies in town, talking of lawsuits and the man being a shyster and other, yet no trace of evidence could be found online. 

We spent the evening wandering the streets of this sleepy village with another woman staying at the hotel. From our vantage point, a pagoda peeked out of the streets of metal roofed housing units and other small hotels. As we walked down toward the main street, we realized this was probably just a stopover village on the way to the revered Inle Lake.

One of the reputable trekking agencies, according to guidebooks, caught our eye. We ignored the rumours from our guesthouse staff and went inside. The competition out here must have been fierce enough to prompt those tactics and we weren’t fans of being swayed by that type of persuasion.

The owner of the shop and restaurant we visited was a kind Burmese man who had been running this business for years along with his wife. He admitted he was past the age where he could lead too many of these treks. His nephews would lead us instead. The tour options and prices sounded great, but we stepped out for a bit to think it over at a Nepali restaurant across the street. This may not have been the greatest plan as each time we tried to return to the trekking agency, the owner was out.

Eventually our arrival times coincided and we joined up with a group of four other young women we had yet to meet. Our journey on the scenic route, through villages, festivals and great views would depart early tomorrow morning.

Settled and content, Colleen and I hopped over to a tea shop as there wasn’t much else to do in this town. Tea or coffee usually came from a package, dumped into boiling water. She wasn’t a fan of this and just counted down the days until she could get a real brewed coffee. I just wanted some ginger tea to settle my stomach. I ended up with green, which was fine until I noticed an ant sharing it with me.

Colleen wasn’t impressed and called over the waiter, who was a boy probably in his teens. He came over, looked at the glass and exclaimed “Oh!”. Next, he threw the tea to the dusty ground and poured a new cup for me from the thermos. I figured the response would have been such after living in Thailand for so long, but it couldn’t stop us from laughing regardless. Another Mai pen Rai (Don't worry about it) moment for the journey.