February 12, 2013
The boat arrived in Katha 10 hours later than promised. Two
exiting travelers told us the boat had been stuck on a sandbar for nearly that
long.
There were 6 ½ tourists departing Katha for Mandalay that
day. There was myself, the French couple I had ridden bikes with the day
before, a lone German who was new to backpacking and having the time of his
life, and a Polish couple with the daughter they created whilst traveling in
Asia four years ago. We all had similar provisions: snacks, water, beer,
blankets, and cardboard for sleeping on.
Looking like hunchbacked hobo’s, we walked across two wooden
planks and into the bottom of the three story behemoth. Pillars of cargo took
up most of the space below. Bags of rice so large they would prove lethal if dropped
on someone formed an alley which lead to an open dining area. A dilapidated
table ran the length of the back wall, behind which was the engine room. On the
starboard side was a staircase. To port, there was a small shop where packeted
snacks hung from the ceiling like worms, and basic items were displayed on a
small shelf. Next to the shop were a few coal powered burners with massive cookware
on top. At least we would have hot tea and warm food on this trip.
Our accommodations amounted to a common area of steel floor towards
the aft of the ship, second level. There were only a dozen or so people aboard
as we climbed up, and we created a mild stir. People’s eyes widened and smiles
spread across their faces. We placed our cardboard down, and set up camp. We
had all learned that theft would not be as issue, and would leave our bags
unattended for hours at time. Though the hefty penalty for crime against a
foreigner may appear to be a likely deterrent, the genuine nature of the people
shines so bright that it obliterates such causal thinking. They are sweet,
innocent, generous, and extremely helpful to foreigners. So far, they have been
the highlight of the trip, and are the nicest people of any country I have ever
been to.
Being treated in such a kind and generous manner by complete
strangers for weeks on end restores one’s faith in humanity. Why some countries
treat foreigners like this and others do not is a mystery that needs solving.
If everybody in the world treated each other like the people of Myanmar have
treated me, the human race would know heaven on earth. Tragically, we lose our
way some times. We forget to be nice to one another, and judge whole groups of
people as worthy of either praise or condemnation. Even in a country were foreigners
are treated as kin, a brutal war rages on.
The Irrawaddy was spectacular as we cast off near sunset.
The river is like a stout brown snake that slithers between low lying hills. The
water is brown, but the sands can be pure white in places. Earthen tone cliffs
rise a vertical 10 meters out of the water, a predicament for the productive
fields above. It was the end of dry season, so the water was particularly low.
Our horizon was a rambling line of lumpy autumn colored hills covered with
trees so dry you could hear their giant leaves crackling from far away during a
strong breeze.
I was feeling a bit physically drained from all the travel,
but was nonetheless thoroughly enjoying myself. The French couple, the German,
and I went below for an early dinner. We has some chicken and rice, a few
beers, and interacted with the crew for a bit. The atmosphere was cozy. The
engines provided a rhythmic hum; the breeze was constant and cool. The beers
relaxed as all a bit;, and the endless tea kept us warm. We rambled on about
nothing in particular for hours, telling jokes and enjoying the scene.
The Polish couple and their daughter was nowhere to be
found. They had mistakenly ushered into a private cabin upon entering the ship,
and didn’t think it wise to question authority, Myanmar being run by a military
dictatorship and all. We were all happy for them, and it seemed fitting that
those traveling with a kid got a room and proper beds to sleep on. Even they
questioned if it had been an accident, or was simply born out of the
unsolicited generosity so common to foreigners in Myanmar.
I was first to retire. It was only 9pm, but I was ready to
sleep. I layered up on clothing, put in headphones, and prepared for some much
needed sleep. I was off to sleep quickly
but awoke a short while later when the ever-present drone of the engine quit
and the lights turned off. I sat up and took out my headphones. Everything was
wonderfully silent, save the tinny sounds coming from the ear-buds in my lap.
The German, who had come up after me, said that we were
going to tie up at the river’s edge for the night, something to do with
government regulations; perhaps a result of the ongoing fighting. Who really
knows why. In any event, our machine lullaby was replaced by an infinitely
better natural one. Wonderful jungle sounds boarded our ship, free of charge.
There was no moon, and we were miles from any city. I asked the German if he
wanted to go up to the roof and check out the stars. He too concluded that it
was too good of and opportunity to pass on, and up we went. The sky was
marvelously high contrast, the Milky Way was quite visible. I took a moment to
revel in the stillness of it all. Water made lapping sounds at the sides of our
static boat, and insects played constant melodies. A million miles away from
everything there I stood, breathing in natures tranquility through all
available senses.
It was cold at night, and I didn’t get the best night sleep.
With the added delay of not moving during the night, the ferry was to be
arriving in Mandalay almost 20 hours later than scheduled, but better to arrive
at 8pm than 1am I figured. However, I was now praying that there wouldn’t be
any further delays. It was early and I was still tired but I got up because I
knew that downstairs there were liters of hot tea to be had, the quickest way
to warm my cold bones.
The French couple was already there, and Julian was enjoying
a coffee and cigarette. Apparently they slept better than I had, and hadn’t
been bothered by the cold at all. I’m quite used to not being as rugged as just
about everyone in the developing world, for whom rock hard mattress are just a
fact of life. But, less rugged than the French? It was the lowest point on the
trip thus far.
I warmed myself and spent most of the day reading alongside
the German. The day gradually grew warmer and sunnier. On the top deck it was
possible to soak in some of the Suns
warmth. It never ceases to amaze me that after traversing 92 million miles, the
Sun’s rays kiss ones skin with just the right amount of oomph.
We all lazed about, and watched the world go by. The ferry
made a handful of stops, and swapped cargo. Women with trays or bowls on their
heads boarded with and offered us various snacks. I couldn’t tell what most of
it was, but that never stops me from buying a thing or two if it looks clean. I
got some chicken and rice and a woman, noticing my glance of intrigue, bought
me a bag of fruit with chili sauce. He son had taken an interest in me, and I
responded by taking a polaroid of him and his mom, and gave it to her. Perhaps
she was repaying my tiny gift, and there are wealthy people in Myanmar, but she
was not one of them! Here was a woman who likely got by on between $500 - $1000
a year buying me a snack! It was as moving as it was insane. Even if it was 25
cents, the average income in the US is 40 times higher, so proportionately she
shelled out $10 for some stranger who she knew to be comparatively wealthy.
Staying in line with my philosophy of not robbing people of their kind deeds, I
gave her my most sincere thanks, and expressed ecstasy with every bite of fruit
she bought me (which was not hard as it was quite good). I made a promise to
pay it forward, and I let it be.
We passed the second night much as we had the first, although
this time we would motor through the night. As I dozed off, the German was
chatting up the soldiers onboard. They were just kids, one of whom had lost
most of his calf in a landmine explosion. Now, they goofed around and played
cards with a random foreigner. It’s a strange world.
The next day we arrived in Mandalay by 1pm. I offered my fairly new blanket to the woman who bought me the fruit, and luckily she accepted with a smile. The information
about 8pm was flawed, you never can tell. There are very few certainties in
life. Generally speaking, the events that shape one’s life the most are incidental.
I think it’s important to recognize the impact of our given situation in life,
and embrace the choices we can freely make. Freedom wasted is life rejected.