CROSSING THE BORDER TO MYANMAR: THE GOLDEN TRIANGLE.

18/04

Alarm clock was set quite early, as we didn't want to waste any time queuing at the custom, but for me it has rang in vain as I could manage to get very little sleep the night before: Luca is laughing and pulling my leg “Ha, ha, I told you... watch out from negative person... You don't believe in such things, right? But you will see if you'll get rid of her in your dreams so easily”! His allusion to supernatural entities and existence of many phenomena we cannot explain make me smile, but I admit the episode of last night somehow shook me.

Anyhow is the time to cross the little river that separates Thailand to Myanmar. At the immigration office they confirm what we suspected: it's possible to enter the country overland, but with insane restrictions: maximum 15 days of permanence, registration of each movement, hotel, and mean of transportation, absolute interdiction to go further the tiny region broadening west of the province, mandatory exit of the country by the same border point. Nonetheless (I think it is the only country in the world) they TAKE YOUR PASSPORT, and give you a peace of paper in change, just to be sure that you'll respect that requirements.

No much choice is left so we just hand our passports and walk through the bridge into this land of mystery and its first town: Tachileik.

“Myanmar”... I laugh as possibly most of the people don't even know what I am talking about (and even me I guess I've just got to know this place little time ago). A rein of great battles and

trades during the centuries, became “Burma” under British Colonization, and later on would have been renowned for the japanese construction of the “death railway” during the second world war (everybody at least once whistled the tune of famous “Bridge over the River Kwai”, You haven't seen that film then shame on you). Since 1968 Myanmar is under a strict knuckle duster military regime, even a pacific demonstration held by monks walking around with their begging bowls upside down has been recently washed in blood. Communications are restricted and the government takes a snapshot of each computer connected to internet every 5 minutes (even if the access to many website is censured). Why? Well... golden triangle baby... Many people say that most of the drugs circulating in asia (and possibly a big share in the world) have their source right here...

These thoughts crowd my head while we are walking to the bus station.

(Tip number 1 for those going in Myanmar: in thailand they will tell you that only currency circulating is dollar or thai bath: true only a few meters from the border, i.e. where most of the people spend their time as they just come here to renovate visa, but absolutely false elsewhere, where local kwess are the best way to buy.)

Once at the bus we realize that transportation, beside being extremely slow (6 to 8 hours for 200 km), it is also ridiculously expensive (almost 10 times thai prices compared on mileage).

But the most interesting thing for me is the confirmation of some old perception of mine: burmese people (as all the asians) think with a logic that is structurally unlike ours. Exhibit one: two guys can buy two bowls of fried noodles with vegetables for 2000 kwess but not 1500 kwess, so far nothing strange yet one single guy can buy the two same bowls for 1500 (but only if he orders them in the right sequence of noodles-veg-veg-noodles). Exhibit two: they are absolutely unable of even pondering contradiction in the same term, but a sequence of clearly opposite utterances (even alternated, and even repeated and confirmed) appear as clear as the sun is shine. I suspect their logic lays on an odd seriality which crosses our aristotelic minds...

ANIMA E POLVERE.

One way or the other, we manage to give our ass some sit on a bus: folks look at us as Martians. Before leaving the driver takes the microphone and talk to the people that we see strangely excited to listen... as he starts giving toothpaste to one woman, shampoo to a man, a soap to another, all jumping and smiling with people around clapping we understand: is a lottery with the ticket number, the big truck-bus roars and starts to hit the road, I try to get some sleep.

I am waken up by some water splashing on my face abruptly: confused I look around and I see people smiling and cheering, the guys sit by the window are completely wet... some kids stationing by the road were shooting everyone passing (buses included) with buckets of water, apparently here song kran is still celebrating.

Anyhow is time to get off the bus for one of the numerous check-point (in a 200km trip we would stop something like 10 times), they don't bother too much foreigners, facing us they just limit to shake their heads wondering what the hell we came there for, and I get the chance to stretch my legs.

All over broadens green and beautiful vegetation, charming mountains stand out at the horizon... beyond them there are lands that nobody has ever seen: poppy plantations? Military bases? Drugs laboratories? Simply breathtaking landscapes? Who knows... I wonder if we'll make it to bypass the strict controls and sneak a glance at that unseen places.

A couple of hours later is now the time for the lunch break, we stop in a local “service area”... the life is revolving around a water hole: people get refreshed, trucks are checked, booth sells expired chinese biscuits, who can afford 1000 kwess (1$us) is having a proper meal (see the picture of my favorite: yellow noodles stir-fried with eggs, vegetables, and pork), the majority just linger on.