Visa run to Burma

In the middle of April, we had to leave the country in order to have our second visas activated. This necessitated a visa run to Burma. It was actually a relief to get out of Chiang Mai for awhile, as it was the middle of Songkran, the Thai New Year, and we couldn't go anywhere without being gridlocked in traffic and doused with water.

The main feature of the Songkran celebration is the throwing of water. You simply can't go anywhere without getting sprayed, splashed, or drenched. People enthusiastically parade through the streets with water guns, ride around in the backs of trucks dipping buckets into garbage cans full of water, and post themselves by the side of the road with hoses. The celebration goes on for days and days, and while at first it is charming to see how much fun they are having, the charm eventually fades to mild annoyance, followed by disbelief that after four days, the allure of standing by the side of the road for hours with a hose still hasn't faded.

Apparently, the throwing of water originated as a gesture of respect and involved just a small amount of scented water being sprinkled, but among young people, the holiday evolved to include water fights and the vigorous dousing of strangers. Nowadays, people by the thousands also temporarily lose their minds and decide that this would be a good place to swim:




This is the moat surrounding the old town, on the outside of what were once the city walls. It's pretty to look at, and while the city did go to great lengths to clean it up prior to Songkran, you still wouldn't catch me dipping my big toe in it.

We hired a van and driver to take us to Mae Sai, a border town from which we could cross into Burma, shop for half an hour, and return back across into Thailand again, having our visas activated in the process. We paid extra money to have the entire van to ourselves, both to spare unsuspecting strangers the experience of spending 14 hours on the road with us and our many children, and also to ensure that we would have enough space for our car seats. Mission accomplished -- we had three rows of seats to ourselves; however, none of those rows had any seatbelts. Standing there dumbly with three car seats in our arms, we decided just to put the car seats in the van anyway, and I supposed had we gotten into a crash, Dave and I would have been severely battered by the three car seats flying freely about inside the van. But we figured the kids would be somewhat safer strapped into their car seats than they would be just sitting on the seats, and besides, whenever we have the opportunity to reign in their natural and enduring boisterousness by restraining them in some fashion, WE TAKE IT.

So by 7 AM we were ensconced in our chariot on our way to Mae Sai, and things were going well. The kids were being nice and quiet, and we had several planned stops we were looking forward to along the way. The first of these stops was at the Chiang Rai Hot Springs (or "Hot Sping," as the sign informs you it is called), a place that was interesting for about four minutes (four seconds for the kids, who were terrified by the steaming, spouting water). The hot springs area consists of two small, round pools of boiling water in which local people cook eggs to sell to tourists, a multitude of food stalls and souvenir shops, and, inexplicably, a jewelry store.





We piled back into the van and headed for our next destination, Wat Rong Khun, or the White Temple. Wat Rong Khun is unique among all the other temples in Thailand because of its colour and materials. It is made of white glass: the white colour stands for the Buddha’s purity, and the glass stands for the Buddha’s wisdom. The temple's bridge represents the crossing over from the cycle of rebirth to the Abode of Buddha.









The temple was very, very beautiful, and we're glad we got to see it. After a brief visit around the temple grounds, we hopped back in the van for our next stop, Mae Sai. The driver dropped us off in front of the border crossing, and after getting our exit stamps from Thailand, we entered Burma, or the Union of Myanmar, as it is now called.





The shopping area just across the border was packed with people perusing stacks of counterfeit merchandise. Giant speakers blared loud Madonna songs, and teenage boys wandered through the crowds selling cheap cigarettes and a variety of prescription medication, including Viagra. We looked around for awhile, and the girls bought packages of underwear for 80 baht ($2.56) each. They were both thrilled with their "Burma panties." They carried them around for the rest of the day, and when we got home, they both tried on each and every one of their 12 pairs.

By the time we lined up, got our passports back, crossed back over into Thailand, and had our visas activated, we were massively late for our agreed-upon meeting time with our driver. We stood in busy traffic in front of the border crossing for half an hour waiting for him to drive by. Two out of three kids were crying, and we were feeling quite miserable and blaming it on Burma. Finally our driver pulled up, and we gratefully fell into the van. Next stop: lunch! We stopped off for a Thai buffet. We hoovered large quantities of noodles and chicken before once again returning to the van.

We had one more stop planned -- a hilltribe village just outside of Chiang Rai where we could see the Karen long-neck women. Unfortunately we had all fallen asleep by the time we arrived, and it was about a million degrees outside, so we were hot, disoriented, and not very chipper when we exited the van. Our moods did not improve after we were fleeced 1000 baht to be led by an eight-year-old boy around what is essentially a human zoo, filled with unenthusiastic hilltribe performers dressed up in traditional costumes and forced to entertain flocks of curious onlookers.



We were led up to a performance area where a large group of hilltribe people were sitting around looking bored -- until we walked up. Then, they slowly got to their feet, assembled themselves into a circle, and half-heartedly shuffled around playing instruments. Afterwards I sent Olivia up to put 20 baht in the donation jar, and everyone gave sad little golf claps.


Can you read the excitement on their faces?







I felt bad sitting there watching, like their lives were emptily centred around entertaining tourists. I have heard that many of these people are refuges powerless to leave these fake, sanitized little villages. It left me feeling very melancholy and sorry that we had visited. This feeling did not improve as we were led over to see the long-neck women, who stood silently in the heat posing for picture after picture. The only time I saw any expression on their faces was when Dave walked up with William. The long-neck woman was very sweet to him, which I think made for very neat picture:





Finally, we grumpily got back into the van one last time and headed back home. The driver, who by now was in a hurry to get home, frightened me very much by driving 140 km/h most of the way home, casually passing anyone and everyone on the narrow, winding mountain roads. It was most unenjoyable, and I was genuinely surprised to find myself alive and in one piece upon our arrival back in Chiang Mai, 14 hours after we had started our trip. Somebody was clearly NOT following the guidelines expressed in the sign that was taped to the window of the van:


So, where can I get that questionnaire?

It was an awful lot of trouble for one measly stamp in our passports, and I am extremely thankful that we do not have to mess around with visa stuff ever again on this trip.