Adventures in South East Asia

11 ~ Border Towns

Bangkok to Mae Sot, Thailand

Bangkok's dingier airport, Don Muang, greeted us as we went through customs to be released into that fun loving country. I recommended a good travel path on the sky train line to Pierre and another man who were off to stay in that area. We took off without a goodbye after grabbing our luggage, as they probably expected me to join them on the shuttle to the sky train. My apartment was nowhere near the downtown district, so I had to turn down cab sharing with all the other neon tank top-clad tourists.

Back at my apartment, the lack of life bummed me out a touch. I greeted our security guard, Chalerm, and had a quick bi-lingual chat to let him know I was just dropping off some things and grabbing a meal before my next bus to Northern Thailand.

All of my friends had scattered around Thailand and surrounding countries for the week as it was vacation at the school, before April camp started up. I ditched a few articles of clothing like dresses, an extra towel, bathing suit and short shorts. I really had no need for the cluttering considering how rarely I'd actually feel comfortable wearing these things solo. Modesty started to fit me better and better.

I strolled down the street to the tailor. I crossed my finger that she had finished making some suits and a dress from the Thai silk one of my students had given me for New Years.  Once I reached the shop with a small Canada flag in the window, she apologized profusely. She had mailed the items to another nearby village by accident.

Considering I had been waiting for these things for a month and a half now and receiving delay after delay, I couldn't say I was impressed. But, I tried not to let it show. She was really kind, just a touch busy I suppose. I gave her the next date I would be back in Bangkok in late April, and crossed my fingers that maybe they'd be in the shop then.

It wasn't a completely wasted trip out to my neighbourhood in the boonies, at least my luggage was lighter and I also stopped by to get some delectable fried chicken from one of my favourite vendors along with some fresh fruit from the cart and a strawberry-banana smoothie all for a total of three dollars, or 90 Thai baht.

"Chok Dee!" Chalerm called out wishes of good luck from the security office as I walked out the front gate to catch another bus.

"Khap khun kha!" I thanked him with a smile and a wave.

My next stop past Bangkok was Mae Sot, a Thai border town with Myanmar. I arrived there at 6 a.m., which was my own fault as later buses were available, but I didn't have the foresight to check out the anticipated travel time.

Luckily at the bus stop, a man stood next to a tuktuk -- a three wheeled, open concept tourist mobile. The only reason I took this overpriced monstrosity was that there was really no other option. At least he had a place in mind that was in my price range and open at this hour. 'Guesthouse' was a keyword to say 'I'm cheap and don't mind sharing a room and/or bathroom to save some cash'. Once I arrived, the friendly Thai woman showed me the shared room and the private room. My stomach lurched and I knew having my own bathroom was a must.

Food poisoning still had me getting my money's worth out of the cushy, twelve dollar private room with wifi and air conditioning I had splurged on. Eventually, restlessness got the better of me and I ventured out to the markets and shops that supported refugees from Myanmar living in the area. I ended up coming back with a few munchies from the market, and coin purses, bracelets and books detailing the stories of young refugees's experiences, dreams, and ambitions, which made for some great, albeit heartbreaking, reading.

Many of the Burmese villages in the mountains near this border suffered at the hands of a military government whose largest regional concern was growing opium crops. Whole communities had been uprooted for these causes and with nowhere really left to go -- maybe another nearby village, which ran the same risk. As time passed, the homeless people of Myanmar sneaked across the border to be illegal immigrants in Thailand.

The overwhelming theme in the refugee's stories education: a gateway to overcome these hurdles and become agents of change in their future communities. One day they would return to Myanmar and would need those skills. It was undeniably their home and they would work to change it for the better. I hoped that by the end of my journey up North to volunteer and tutor up there that I could affect some change too.

The rented bike I had taken to the market earlier also got me as far as the Thai-Burmese border in this city. Taking a bike to a sketchy border crossing was probably not one of my brighter ideas, but borders held this strange land fascination for me. Most of Canada's major cities had been established only hours from the US border, so I was no stranger to customs officers. Plus, a travel site had put it on a top ten list for Mae Sot, just to confirm I wasn't that crazy.

I could just imagine how strict this border crossing would be since the Burmese government didn't allow foreigners past the village on the opposite side. The crossing had enough appeal for foreigners to jump out for the day and renew a 30-day Thai tourist visa, get a new stamps and claim to visit Myanmar. I didn't want to cross it as I had just left the country.  I'd rather see how it operated.

The sun beat down alongside the humidity on the relatively flat stretch of highway. Signs kept popping up for the Thai/Myanmar Friendship Bridge, an amicable name for the border. Once I got to the crossing, I saw a bridge rising up over a meager river.

Men clad in green camouflage checked the covered trucks and cars passing through while a number of others were charged with the task of letting through the foot traffic. Chain link fences separated  the bridge road from the local ones of either side until the bridge rose to a more impressive height.

I ventured down one of the local roads to catch a glimpse of the river. The water flowed at very low heights, swimmable, in my opinion as a former lifeguard. A group of boys swam in the shallow waters near one of the banks to confirm my theory. I couldn't help but wonder what side they were from and what the military's practice with border hoppers: detain or shoot.

I hung onto my bike as I walked the dodgy boardwalk. Men either narrowed their eyes at me or raised their eyebrows as I walked by. Clearly, I didn't fit in around these parts and I soon jumped back on that bike and rode on back to my little guesthouse where foreigners actually belonged.