Kawthaung, Myanmar – November 24th – 26th, 2016

The four-hour long bus ride from Khao Lak north to Ranong, Thailand (on Thanksgiving, by the way) cost a whopping 165 thai bhat, or about $4.50. Unlike some of the bus rides we have endured over the last couple of months, the trip went surprisingly smoothly. Once in Ranong, we caught a taxi with some other travelers to the immigration office to cross the border into Myanmar. After being granted permission to leave Thailand, we were ushered onto a longtail boat by a friendly Burmese man that had been collecting all of the necessary documents for us (passport photocopies, boat manifest, etc). With the boat full of locals, we made our way across the channel towards Myanmar. The border crossing was, by far, the oddest one yet. The boat stopped four times at different port authorities, each located on a different mini island. There was one Thai, one Myanmar, and two mystery stops. Each time, our passports were given to the officers while we stayed in the boat. At one stop, our passports and all of the locals got off the boat to talk to authorities, but we stayed put. This was possibly because they wanted us to keep the two illegal hideaways company that were smuggled under the bow and stern of the boat. In addition to being completely bewildered as to what was going on, we also had to ward off the seemingly continuous reasons for why we owed US dollars to the boatmen. Each time we said no and told him we had pre-approved e-visas and shouldn’t be paying anything extra, and each time he shrugged his shoulders and dropped it for a few minutes before his next attempt. Persistence paid off though and we disembarked on Myanmar soil without having to fork over any more moola (besides the cost of the perplexing boat ride).

Ranong border crossing from Thailand to Myanmar.

Having now arrived in Myanmar, the real fun began. As before, we were instantly greeted by another Burmese man, who we assumed worked for the port authority. He helped us off the boat, made photocopies of our passports for the authorities (again!), and led us to the empty immigration building, where we waited for over a half hour for five officers to approve our already approved e-visas (again very perplexing, and more than a little stressful). Finally allowed to officially enter the country, the Burmese man, Johnny, led the way into Kawthaung. Along the way, he insisted (through the use of marginal to poor English) that we buy our onward travel tickets. Thinking that this was because we told immigration we were traveling on (and according the Johnny we were required to buy the tickets), we agreed to stop by the airlines and bus offices to get pricing. After he became increasingly pushy, we began to get the impression that perhaps he was not an employee of the immigration office, but a man trying to make a buck off of us. After about 30 minutes, he “allowed” us to go to our hotel first to drop our bags and decide if we wanted to fly or take a bus to our next destination. Without prompting, Johnny again, hurriedly led the way. He quickly got our room key from the reception desk and even walked us upstairs to our room and invited himself inside (SO uncomfortable!). After five very awkward minutes, we managed to shake Johnny by agreeing to meet him for a beer an hour later. At this point we still could not decide if it was compulsory that we comply with this very pushy little man. Asking the hotel staff proved pretty much useless since asking them who Johnny was almost resulted in them calling him for us. We were finally able to glean that he was a guide (and likely not affiliated with immigration). First off, what kind of a guide just assumes the responsibility without you actually hiring him!?!??!!!

After doing a little digging on the internet, we determined that the bus ride to Dawei was not 10 hours long, as Johnny had assured us, but really closer to 25 hours! Also, contrary to Johnny’s strongly worded opinion, the road is not in good condition and is not well-traveled (actually, before January of this year, tourists were not even allowed to travel on the one road connecting Kawthaung and Dawei in Southern Myanmar). Based on our strong desire to avoid another bus ride from hell, we opted for the $80, one and a half hour, flight option. Now thoroughly convinced that Johnny was full of shit, we ventured out on our own to get cash, buy airline tickets, and set up a tuk tuk driver for the following day’s activities (which by the way cost ~$26 not $85 as Johnny had said). All of our errands took less than an hour and half to complete on our own (go us!) and now on our way to dinner, it appeared that we had successfully shook Johnny as well.

Alas, Johnny found us on the street, and forced us into having that beer we had earlier agreed to (Little did we know, he had already been to our hotel room and knocked on the door. Stalker?!) This turned out to be one of the most uncomfortable dinners of either of our lives. Johnny got increasingly agitated as he discovered piece by piece that we had done everything without him. Between cussing at the waitress, he desperately started making up reasons why we will certainly perish without going with his motorbike friend (who by the way had also joined us at the table and drinking (presumably on our dime)). According to Johnny, the tuk tuks can’t make it up the “steep” mountain roads, the tuk tuk will flip backwards and he won’t help us when we are in the hospital, and he “never said it would cost 3,000 baht ($85), he said 3,000 kyat ($2.30)!” When his tactics didn’t work and we still insisted that we didn’t want a guide, Johnny got down right angry. We bought his two beers, five cigarettes, and his friends beer, and made our getaway without tipping him (much to his very audible frustration). Our main concern now was that he knew the location of our hotel room. Let’s just say this was not an ideal Thanksgiving dinner (the fare by the way was oily fried vegetables and rice).

Although Johnny had managed to ruin our first afternoon/evening in Kawthaung, all was well because WE…ARE…CELEBRITIES!!! Everywhere we went people watched us with a fascinated curiosity. The outgoing would excitedly say hello (mingalabar in Burmese) or take photos (often of us together with them) while others would just stare shyly. Regardless of their personality, if we said hello to them and waved, all would beam with the most genuine and wide smile you can imagine. It was like having the superpower to make anybody’s day just by acknowledging them. Many would instantly rush inside their shop or house to tell the rest of their family and friends. It was especially a treat to see the reactions of groups of beaming children!

For those of you that do not know, until recently, Myanmar (previously Burma), was closed to foreign travelers due to an army-induced isolation for the past 60 years. The southern part of Myanmar only started to allow westerners to visit in 2013 and there is still just a slow trickle visiting much of the region. It is only in the last three years that the Burmese people have seen a white person outside of the movies. Speaking of movies, it seems that the people actually believe that the USA is just like Hollywood portrays it. Who are we to burst their bubbles? We are, after all, celebrities! 

     

We only spent about two days in Kawthaung, but it was jammed packed with visiting the surrounding areas, wandering the streets, and accidently attending a Buddhist ceremony at the local pagoda. Our tuk tuk driver, Minthukha, first brought us to the picturesque Maliwan waterfall area. It was certainly beautiful, but the weather was marginal and the local crowd we were expecting were nowhere to be found (likely because it was 10am on a Friday). We explored the park and Andy took a dip in the water, but since I would have had to swim fully clothed, I settled for a cold foot bath. Next, we went to Palautone, a small island connected to the mainland by an extremely long wooden plank bridge. The village on the island was rustic at best, but extremely welcoming. We put on our best “Queen of England” smiles as we drove through town to the beach area. Even our driver was proud to show us off. In the evening, we ventured up the hill from our hotel to Pyi Daw Aya pagoda where we stumbled on what we think was Pagoda Day. Although we were 100% clueless as to what was going on, it was incredible! There were about 1,000 people sitting and listening to an announcer and monk conduct some sort of ceremony. The congregation chanted and bowed their heads in prayer at seemingly random times throughout the ceremony/celebration. We sat in the back and observed for a while before finally calling it a day.   

The sites around Kawthaung.

More of the sites around Kawthaung.

The next morning, we were wandering through town when a man excitedly stopped his motorbike to say hello to us. He enthusiastically asked if we would mind talking to him so he could practice his English. Of course, we complied, and within minutes he asked if we would follow him around the block to the school to meet his wife who was the school teacher. We agreed, and on arrival, he ushered us into his open concept shack/house where he invited us to sit while his wife hurriedly boiled some water for instant coffee. We sat and spoke with him and his wife for almost an hour before he gave us a ride back to our hotel on his motorbike. Although his wife was very shy to try her English (which was actually quite good), they were so genuine and kind. It was one of the most memorable times we have spent on the trip so far and more than offset the Johnny “the guide” extravaganza from the first day.  

The locals in Kawthaung. Our tuk tuk driver is on the left, while the amazing husband and wife are pictured on the right.