The visit ended successfully, and we left the building with a bag filled with thousand-kyat banknotes (the first consonant of Burmese currency – ‘kyat’ – is pronounced with ‘th’ sound, as in ‘cheer’ or ‘chilly’).
We had lunch in a nearby restaurant, and after that, with great mood and full belly we set off to the north. Some people said that the road from Tachileik to Mandalay could be closed for tourists. But the people say different things, and we decided to check ourselves and to make sure it this is really true.
We were turned back after cycling just ten miles, at the first checkpoint. With an apologetic-looking face, a policeman in flip-flops explained to us in his broken English that he was very sorry but we shall not pass and ‘we should go back to the shadow’ (no, he didn’t resembled Gandalf at all). He advised us to go back to Thailand and get permission to continue traveling, or go to Tachileik airport and take the plane.
There is one big problem for budget travelers in Myanmar – you have to sleep in hotels and wild camping is strictly prohibited. Similarly – locals can’t accommodate you. I will write more about that topic next time. Now – enough to say, that during our stay in Burma it was possible to omit that strange requirement and only a few times we were forced by circumstances (or our tired bodies) to stay in hotels.
Places in which foreigners stay in Myanmar have to have a special license. Again – we slept a few times in guest-houses, which definitely didn’t have ones. I will write more details about that next time. Now, I just want to say that there is one gap in the system – Buddhist temples. Several times we slept close to the temples. Only a few times monks refused our request to pitch the tent. Usually there was no problem at all with staying with them.
We liked their tea, which taste I remember from my travels to India. They mixed tea with condensed milk, and call it ‘La Phat Yay’ (the first two words are pronounced as [lapa] and the third word have two vowels, as in English word ‘yeast’, so you should pronounced it like [lapayea]. If you want to say: ‘I want tea’ You can try: [lapayea taucheende]. Good luck – people will love it once they understand).
What is particularly visible instantly when you look at them – their faces are painted. They call it thanaka – a yellowish-white cosmetic paste. Apparently, it gives a cooling sensation and provides protection from sunburn. Some people say it even helps removing acne.
I am very glad to inform you that the movie about my travels is available on-line.
“Never arrive, ever” is a story about the life – definitely, not only about my life, although I am the main protagonist of the movie. Solitary nights in uninhabited lands, interacting with ghosts, countless encounters with “others”, apprehension on the mother’s part, mountains, cats and unrelenting desire for not reaching the destination point – all this comprises a fascinating journey having its beginnings at the very moment of my birth.
By watching the movie, you support independent filmmaking, my travels and book writing. Thank you! I hope You will enjoy it.
“Each medium of expression imposes its own limitations on the artists – limitations inherent in the tools, materials, or processes he employs. In the older art forms natural confines are so well established they are taken for granted. We select music or dancing, sculpture or writing because we feel that within the frame of that particular medium we can best express whatever it is we have to say.” Edward Weston
Anyway, returning to the trip – I would like to write about Thailand. Frankly speaking I have very little to add in the topic that the world on the road seems to be like a fairy tale. The accumulation of magical and fantastic elements is so intense and frequent that after a few days you stop treating them as something peculiar, and you start perceiving them as a full-fledged reality, not requiring confirmation by any rational knowledge. And, as if everything happened in a real fairy tale – time quickly and unnoticeably curves its trajectory, and from linear becomes cyclic.
We wish we knew some Thai language. Surely, you can smile, you can use gestures, you can express lots of things without even opening your mouth. But even though – there are lots of things happening around us, to which we do not have the key, or simply we don’t know what to say. We don’t use ice in water or drinks, but you get it in the cups before you fill them in. We don’t use fans, but how can you explain you would rather turned them off? We use toilet paper in restrooms (instead of Thai method of cleaning their bottoms with a hose) but how can you ask where the paper should be thrown away?
So, we create our own phrases and names, for example: grilled banana (pronounced something like kuey ping), or banana with sticky rice (hau tom mat) or muffins with beans (ha ko), or our favorite – fried banana with coconut cake (kluay khaek).
By the way, the pride of the Thai king is not necessarily felt by all inhabitants (though Heaven Forbid, you must not admit it and show any disapproval in public), since we saw portraits of the late ruler – Rama IX, abandoned in the rubbish bin. Apparently, the monarch here, like in the United Kingdom, is an unprofitable institution, but nobody seriously thinks to abolish it.
I was wandering once, why those people are so nice to us. Maybe their positive attitude is misleading because and it is only culturally conditioned. As we know, appearances sometimes may be very deceptive. But even so, I‘d rather meet someone who is seemingly good, instead of being with people who openly show aggression and lack of tolerance.
So, we are in Chiang Mai, in a hotel for which we paid the equivalent of about one hundred American dollars per month per person – this information is for those who ask me who supports my long travels. I do. I earn some money and then I spend them. Mainly on food and accommodation. Plus I buy spare parts to the bicycle, and common things such as toothbrush, soap, sometimes shoes (but clothes I change seldom – on average each three/five years, depending on their quality).
The last years I used to get by having equivalent of about three hundred American dollars per month. For everything. It is not much, I agree. Sometimes it would be better to have a little more, for example, in order to find a safe place to stay for the night or to buy more food. But it’s ok. I don’t starve, far from that. I can’t complain. And Thailand, luckily, is pretty cheap, comparing to Europe, or to the United States.
But let’s go back to Chiang Mai for a while. We have peace here, an air-conditioned room, a few pounds of free (!) bananas each day (that reminds me my stay in the United States, where I had to pay a dollar for one banana), free drinking water, our own coffee maker and a bazaar with a mass of good food, just ten minutes walk from the hotel, where the dinner costs an equivalent of one American dollar.
Surely you may find in Chiang Mai and in other parts of Thailand more expensive and elaborate meals, if you are unwilling to eat directly on the street with the locals. You may find good restaurants with waiters, where you will spend ten times or more buing one dish. But the street food is cheap, tasty and definitely healthier from lots of stuff you find in European or American supermarkets, including those with a very funny label ‘organic’.
We came from Bangkok without any GPS. Actually, we don’t even have a cell phone. Really – you can survive pretty well without those ‘amenities’. We are guided by the sun, the stars and the signposts, although those are not always legible.
Maybe it’s even better that we don’t understand everything here. There is a room for imagination. The room of imagination. A small one will do. A tiny room (for) the imagination. With a large window wide open. Open to the world.
The trip is over. After sixteen months of travelling I came back to Poland. I need some rest. I would like to thank everyone I met and everyone who accompanied me (even virtually) in my journey. I will cherish the memories of those encounters and I will keep telling to my friends in Poland that the world is generally good. And that the people are good. And that we should travel not only to admire places but to admire people. We mustn’t forget that those people are mirrors in which we could see ourselves.
After all, what we see in others in a reflection of ourselves.
It feels good to be lost in the right direction
Today, I will tell you something about ghosts. First, the Poles. Two men came from Vancouver to hunt deer. They appeared suddenly – just stopped next to the bench where I was sitting, and after a while I was given some canned food, two jars of minced meat, a huge loaf of good bread and three twenty-dollar bills. – Buy yourself a cup of coffee – said one of them.
A few days later a car stopped in front of me and a friendly-looking man asked if I would like to spend the night under the roof, take a shower and get a decent dinner. At first I thought I had misunderstood something or that I was being delirious, because – believe it or not – a minute ago I thought exactly about how wonderful it would be to finally take a shower and rest a little.
The place to which he had invited me turned out to be a roadside motel. The room had a bathroom and a deep bath in it. For two hours I was in complete bubble bliss, which was prolonged by the flow of hot water.
In the morning I got breakfast. Three huge pancakes, six pieces of bacon, three fried eggs, fried potatoes, some toasts with jam and coffee with a jar of maple syrup. At first I thought I would not be able to eat it all, but I did. It is unbelievable how much you can eat after a dozen or so months of cycling. I did not even notice when the plates were taken from the table – I stared at the little picture hanging over it: Live every moment, laugh every day, love beyond words.
I wanted to thank that guy who invited me to the motel the previous day, but no one saw him. What was even more surprising was the fact that the lady from the kitchen did not seem to know who I was asking for. But surely somebody had to tell her to prepare that huge breakfast for me. Anyway, the man disappeared.
And I can’t forget to mention Debbra and Blair – the couple I met six years earlier in the vicinity of hot springs. Debbra drove her car five hundred kilometers to meet me up and then took me to her home. Unforgettable three days which I spent on talking and resting, wandering if I really deserved such lavish hospitality and care.
One day I met a red fox. I saw him from a distance, so I stopped. I was looking at him and he was looking at me and suddenly he came closer. It thought that I was drawing him towards me as if on an invisible cord of mutual interest. He slipped under the bicycle and touched me with his nose. Then he sniffed one of the panniers, sat down, and kept looking until a car finally stopped nearby, from which a woman came out. She approached us and the fox ran away into the forest.
– Is it your mascot, you cycle with a fox? – she asked suddenly, after exchanging standard questions: where, why, absolutely, good for you, have a good one.
– No, it was a ghost – I replied.
It’s getting colder, quieter and I’m getting closer to the end. And I still do not know what to do next. I keep thinking about what to do with the pebble which I’m carrying from Patagonia. I could have given it to the fox, but what he would do with such a stone? Maybe I should give it to the world? But there are plenty of stones in the world. So, maybe I’ll give it to the silence. I’ll throw it into the silence. The silence will accept anything. Without any unnecessary words, without translations.
Live very moment, laugh every day, love beyond words. Maybe the silence helps. Just like a dream. Maybe the travel does it also? After all, traveling is a bit like looking for some fairy tales, isn’t it?