Note: I have removed some details from this entry at the request of some people mentioned in it.

We decided to leave Mandalay for the mountains in the East to do some trekking. Our ticket on the train would take us to [omitted] in Northern Shan State in about 12 hours - we opted for the first-class seats. First-class ended up being the same as third-class on a Thai train: plain, hard wooden seats in a car packed with passengers and random cargo, no fans. I enjoyed the great scenery despite a severely numb ass. The route east includes the crossing of the world’s second-highest railway bridge, the Gokteik Viaduct. I later learned that photographing the bridge is supposed to be prohibited, but I managed a few poor shots of it as we slowly rolled across. [The internet connection here is too restricted to upload my photos now, sorry] Each stop of the train brought us by increasingly small stations for a cup of tea and/or piss break. More local passengers would squeeze themselves and their cargo onto the “ordinary class” cars and we would move on to the next one…

The train pulled into [omitted] just after sundown. Representatives from 2 of the 3 guest houses in town gave us the sales pitch and we opted for the [omitted], spoken for by Mr. [omitted] over Mr. [omitted]’s place. I figured it would all be the same no matter which we chose and settled into a basic but comfortable room (with a hot water shower!). Actually, the hot water is no minor detail. [omitted] is fucking cold! It became priority #1 to purchase a sweater at the market in the morning -I hadn’t anticipated this sort of weather at all.

Over the next three days we spent in [omitted], we accomplished little more than purchasing those sweaters. The information provided by our guidebook (the latest Myanmar Lonely Planet) prepared us little for the shady goings-on of this little town. It was here that I started to learn that life in Myanmar really can be as bad - or worse, even - than is reported to us back home.

First, we walked out to the [omitted], an old British colonial house once home to a Shan prince. The last prince (or sao pha) was arrested during the military takeover in 1962 and is believed to have been killed a year later. After his [omitted] wife left, the home was occupied by Mrs. [omitted] and Mr. [omitted] ([omitted] of the sao pha) until just last year Mr. [omitted] was sentenced to 13 years in prison for allegedly “giving false information to foreigners” and for receiving guests without a permit. It was Mrs. [omitted] herself who related to us this story while we stood talking through her now permanently locked gate.

This is one among many similar stories about current happenings across the Shan State - the government has been systematically arresting all of the key Shan politicians in an attempt to maintain control of the region. Mrs. [omitted] urged me to share her story publicly on my blog as long as I removed any specifics which could allow the government to identify and arrest her, hence all the black bars and missing flag on the travelogue map.

In [omitted], we also sought out Mr. [omitted] on advice from the guidebook. L.P. suggested that we ask him about catching a local bus to [omitted] for trekking. Upon meeting him, his first question was “Which guest house are you staying at?” When we told him, he said that the local police, in cahoots with the owners of another guest house in town, have prohibited him from giving foreigners such information. He began to describe the current situation in [omitted], but interrupted himself a couple times to duck behind the counter to avoid being seen talking with us when certain people walked by. I became very uncomfortable standing there and told him I’d come back later to talk.

The next day I payed him another visit and he seemed eager to give me more details about his plight. He showed me a list of about a dozen rules handed down to him by the police forbidding him, among other things, to give information to foreigners about trekking, to speak to or about certain people (including Mrs. [omitted] and Mr. [omitted] - he was glad to hear that we were able to visit Mrs. [omitted] in person), and display photos of Aung San Su Kyi in his storefront or even hang them in his private back room. He was able to talk more about the crackdown on the Shan minority and told us that he has plans to close his shop and “disappear” with his daughter for three months as he fears that his time in [omitted] “may soon be up.” He eventually offered to help arrange transport to [omitted] via a local truck to [omitted] for us, but we had already abandoned the trekking in [omitted] plan in favor of visiting the north.

Before leaving, we walked out of town through a couple tiny Shan villages and played with a bunch of adorable little kids at an elementary school. I took lots of photos which the little monsters promptly erased by going crazy all videogame-style on my camera’s buttons. I also got a haircut from a nice lady who (surprisingly) spoke Thai. She and Pui talked about Thai food while she gave me something of a military crew-cut. I miss Bangkok already.

The ride to Mandalay was not as bad as I had expected, although I still haven’t mastered the art of sleeping on overnight buses. We arrived in the afternoon, tired and groggy, and made quick business of checking into a hotel to nap the rest of the daylight away.

Mandalay, Myanmar’s second city, is a dustier, even less modern version of the capital. There are no streetlights nor traffic lights, electricity is intermittent at best, and the roads are a shambles. Everything in sight is coated in a thick layer of the bust that follows the traffic in brown clouds. Instead of taxis there are bicycle trishaws and pick-ups, but otherwise the scene on the street is much the same as in Yangon: tea shops, hole-in-the-wall restaurants serving cold, oily Chinese and Bamar food, a smiling baby everywhere you turn, and piles of books, sunglasses and cheap electronics on street-vendor tarps. We allotted one full day to exploring Mandalay which was more than enough. To celebrate Pui’s birthday on the 4th, we ate dinner at one of the (few) “nicer” Burmese restaurants in town.

Upon Arrival in Yangon (Rangoon), we were greeted by a shinier, more modern airport than I expected. After a short shared cab ride we arrived near the city center, which is marked by the gleaming Sule Pagoda stuck right in the middle of the city’s busiest roundabout. The agenda for the first day: visit the Thai embassy to apply for a new tourist visa.

Myanmar is slowly modernizing but still a different world compared to neighboring Thailand. For example, there are no ATMs in the country so you must enter holding enough cash to cover your entire stay. Our first mission was to exchange most of the U.S. dollars we bought in Bangkok to Myanmar Kyat. We headed to the Aung San Bogyoke market where the best rates are supposedly found. Since every merchant around seems to deal in currency exchange it was no trouble at all to purchase several giant stacks of kyat at about 2,500 to the dollar. All of the merchants, though, are extremely fussy about the condition of the bills they accept. First of all, no “small head” bills (referring to the old $100 bills) and any wear-and-tear whatsoever on any bill warrants a reduced rate or downright refusal. With the exchange sorted, we hit the Thai embassy.

I was thoroughly questioned about the unusually large number of sort-term Thai tourist visas filling my passport, but was granted “one last” two-month visa. We wandered the streets of Yangon for a bit later on after checking into a hotel.

Myanmar’s captial city is, although not without its own strange charm, a generally unpleasant place. Overcrowding, extreme poverty and lots of trash keep it far from the top of my list of favorite cities. I think it has certainly seen better days, as has the rest of the country. But despite the unfavorable setting, most of the people I encountered were quite friendly and helpful. Pui and I decided to visit the famous Shwedagon Pagoda before catching an overnight bus to Mandalay the next day.

The Shwedagon Pagoda is the most significant Buddhist site in all of Myanmar. At the center of its large complex of impressive shrines, zedis, murals and statues stands the main paya, a 98-meter mountain of gold. A local guide named Jiaw Dein (my new Burmese name?) quickly took notice of me and Pui. He worked up an astrological chart for each of us and showed us to the shrines we should visit according to the day of the week on which we were born. 2007 will be “100% lucky” according to my chart. And I’ll be married by 2009.

I’ve been putting off this update for so many weeks months that the list of things I wanted to write about has grown impossibly long. Since I don’t have the motivation to write out the entire story, I will boil it down to a list of highlights (with photo links):

• New years eve on Koh Phangan
• Cock fighting at Jatujak market
• An extended visa-run to Singapore
• A trip to Khao Sok and Krabi
• The vegetarian festival in Phuket (!!)
• A trip to Kanchanaburi with Alan and Crystal
• A trip to Koh Samet (also starring Alan and Crystal)
• And finally, that trip to Khao Yai mentioned in the last post here (September)

The regularly scheduled updates will, however, be returning soon. On Thursday morning Pui and I are flying to Yangon, Myanmar for a month-long (two weeks for Pui) Burmese expedition. I don’t expect to have reliable internet access for most of the trip, but I will be adding entries when I can.

The current plan is to return to Bangkok on March 1st for some final weeks in Thailand before I catch an as-yet-unbooked flight to who-knows-where.

you heard it here first folks pro-thaksin protest at siam square im headed there camera in hand details to follow

Uh, yeah, scratch all that. The “protest” turned out to be nothing more than a press frenzy around a brief speech by some dude. A note to all the budding junior journalists out there: don’t stop for noodle soup on the way, you might miss something. The soup was really damn good though.

Until next time, I’ll be in Khao Yai. Drinking wine. On a horse.

“Is this your first revolution?” “Yes, it is.” “Congratulations!” - conversation with a fellow tourist after he asked me to pose for a photo with him

Only in Thailand is what I kept thinking to myself as I watched the military coup-turned-tourist-attraction scene in front of the government house yesterday. Not that I’m complaining, though. The situation is still far from being completely resolved but so far things are calm in Bangkok.

On Tuesday, I was over at Cafe Democ (directly in front of the Democracy Monument near Khao San rd.) with some friends for the weekly Club Pros night. Just as things were getting started at 10:15 or so, they killed the music and informed everyone that a coup was underway and a bunch of tanks were headed towards the monument. Time to leave.

A frenzy of phone calls ensued in an attempt to find out exactly what was going on, but there was little information to be had - all of the local news stations were broadcasting only photos of the king. The only thing we could find out with any certainty was that something big was going on. Since the area around the monument was the site of some fatal shootings during the last coup (15 years ago) most of us were in a hurry to get out. I hopped in a cab with Pui to flee the scene and about 5 minutes later we saw a few tanks parked in major intersections. I tried to snap some photos but none came out at all…

Pui and I headed back to her place and tried to get some updates but the local news was completely shut down. Rumors spread like wildfire; my favorite one: that Tata Young was holding an impromtu concert in the street to show her support for the soldiers. CNN and BBC were reporting, however, so at least we were able to hear that there hadn’t been any violence and the situation appeared calm so far.

Yesterday was quite a strange day in Bangkok. Aside from some soldiers in the street and the odd tank here and there, it was simply a quiet day in the city. Due to the “state of emergency” declared by Prime Minister Thaksin (who is still out of the country, now in London), the banks and stock market were closed as well as most schools and businesses. After checking the news online I decided to try and round up some friends and head out to the government house to see whats up first hand. A couple hours later I met up with Nadia and Pui at the Siam BTS station and we all got on a bus.

As I said before, the situation at the government house was more a media circus / tourist photo-op than what I was expecting from the scene of a military coup, but thats not such a bad thing after all. I took tons of photos before we met up with the rest of the gang (Glaw, Gift, Andy, Aom, Jojo, Nat) and went out for dinner near Khao San.

And today, things are feeling quite normal… Some announcements have been made by the head officers of the military and the king himself has announced his support of the takeover, which should help to keep things peaceful until all is resolved. The main players in Thaksin’s ousted party are gathering in London at the moment, though, so there may yet be more to the story. I’ll keep posting updates as things happen.

In other news: I am moving to Bangkok. A new business venture with my good friends Apolonio and Pete has yielded a signed contract and so I am finally settling down in my own apartment in order to help complete our first project. More on that to come as well. I will be moving into the Ratchaprarop Tower Mansion near Victory Monument station on October 3rd, signing a lease that lasts through January. It is official. Come visit.

I hate to do this. Really. But these days my mySpace page gets more of my attention than this blog. I know, mySpace is evil and it sucks. You can handle it. I’m not abandoning this site by any means, it’s just that for day to day staying-in-touch-ing mySpace is more convenient. I’m sorry.

Tiny update: Military coup in Bangkok! I was over by the democracy monument last night and saw some tanks… things are quiet and calm, though. I’ll be back with the full update later.

And now, once again, I am in Bangkok. For the past 3 weeks I’ve been working nearly every day on rebuilding the KitKraft website. Not much adventure to speak of, but after the craziness of Vietnam its a welcome change of pace. I did take a day off to visit the Science and Technology convention and the Mother’s day / Queen’s birthday festival at Wat Arun, which I’ll write a post about soon. And more photos soon too. Really. I’ve also started reading the (Indian) Ramayana which is already breathing new meaning into my experiences around Asia. For those of you looking for the rest of the story of the mad adventure across northern Vietnam, I posted the last two entries below.

I have to do a visa run soon, so I’m thinking of doing something completely wacky like flying to London for the Streetwars party. I’m going to lovely Poipet, Cambodia tomorrow. Oh boy.

Nhat Ky Xe Day 12: Na Phac -> Nguyen Thai -> Hanoi Approx. 204km

A dream of a day compared to the last! We flew back to Hanoi at full speed on the (comparitively) good roads, stopping in Nguyen Thai (another provincial capitol) for lunch on the way. We had the bikes cleaned about 30km from Hanoi and took stock of how properly we had smashed them up on the trip. I started to get a bad feeling about bringing them back in their current state…

The last 10km’s of the ride was probably packed with more near-death experiences than I’d seen on the rest of the trip. In the city, people drive like lunatics trying to outrun invisible monsters. And then there’s the trucks with horns so bone-shatteringly loud they double as sonic weapons. I soon learned that the only way to stay alive is to drive like everyone else expects you to, which is like a complete psycho.

Somehow we made it back to the Real Darling Cafe on Pho Hang Quat in one piece, the very same spot the journey started.

We had one mission left to complete: returning the bikes. If we hadn’t just taken them on a 2000km demolition-derby joyride through the backroads of northern Vietnam, I’d have no problem bringing them back to the suspicious lady who rented them to us. But it was obvious that these bikes had left Hanoi. Very obvious.

Hanoi has a district for nearly everything, including a large one for motorbike parts and repair. We shopped around and replaced some large plastic parts on the bikes which had cracked for a total of about $10 before we took them back to the rental place. We were terribly nervous and worked out our story carefully before we drove up. When we returned the bikes, she didn’t even look at them for more than a second! She was so eager to collect the payment that she didn’t even bother to start the engines or anything. I found out a bit later that luck was on our side in this case…

Later that evening I was walking down the street and someone grabbed my shoulder from behind. My heart stopped for a moment, but I turned around to see Hiep sitting on his bike. I was actually on my way to call him up and tell him all about the rest of the adventure that we had started with him almost 2 weeks ago. We went to “Bia Hoi Junction” and I recounted the full story. He told me that on the 8th day, when were supposed to have taken the train back from Sa Pa, he went to ask the lady at the rental place if we had returned with the bikes yet. Of course she said no and started to worry about her bikes and asked Hiep all sorts of questions about what we were doing with them. He reassured her that everything was fine, but continued to visit her and ask about us every day. Just a few hours earlier that day he had an argument with her in the street and told her not to worry, we would be back soon and everything will be OK. She calmed down a little after her rant, and then we showed up not 30 minutes later with her bikes!

Thus ends the Nhat Ky Xe, on my 63rd day in Vietnam. Which means my visa had expired.

The next day I booked a cheap flight from Hanoi to Bangkok for the following day. I wrapped things up in Vietnam, said goodbye to Michael and Hiep and went to the airport with my fingers crossed.

After some confusing (and sometimes really funny) run-around I ended up in the office of the airport immigration police, explaining why I had overstayed my second 30-day tourist visa. I gave them an abridged (and slightly embelished) version of the great adventure across the north, making sure to throw in a couple Vietnamese phrases, which they loved. They let me get away with a reduced fine ($20) and sent me off to Thailand with a pat on the back…