Mawlamyine

Hpa-An was an exceedingly pleasant visit. But I was excited to get to Dawei and start chilling out at the beach for a more extended, relaxed stay.

But it turns out the transportation that direction was not super easy. We wanted to take a boat down the river to Mawlamyine (pronounced MALL-uh-mee-aiyne). There is a bus that heads that way, but the boat ride sounded more scenic and comfortable.  We had to check in the previous night with the local backpacker hostel to see if the boat would be here today. Apparently it's availability depends on sufficient demand. 

They gave us the good news that the boat would indeed float up at noon and would take us the four hour journey to Mawlamyine.

I had pictured a larger river boat.  But it turned out to be nothing more than an oversized longtail with a canopy over some plastic chairs.

The trip was indeed scenic and relaxing but there wasn't much to see except a few men farming along the river banks. The river was calm and slow moving. Farm kids waved excitedly as we passed by.

After awhile we saw signs of civilization. The river widened further and, off in the distance, a long bridge led our eyes to a small city.

We didn't dock at a pier. The water washed up to the end of a city street, and we stepped out into the shallow water.

This town was far more bustling and less charming than Hpa-An. It was kind of a culture shock moment. We had considered staying here an extra day to see some sights, but on the taxi ride to the hostel we had reserved, we both thought maybe we'd just keep moving.

A German girl we rode over with warned us that our hostel was meant to be really unpleasant, so when we saw our slightly more expensive second choice hotel, we hopped out of the taxi and crossed our fingers they would had a vacancy.

The OK Hotel was aptly named. The reasonably modern building stood at the end of a chaotic street market.  It had a tiny private room available and the boss lady seemed able to help us with our onward travel. The room was flourescent lit with ceiling-level windows open to the hallway but not the outside. It felt a bit like a college dorm room.

We had actually arranged a guesthouse in Dawei for tonight, but hadn't received a confirmation, and seeing as the sun was already setting, it didn't seem possible we could make it that far by this evening.

We asked the boss lady about the train to Dawei. We read that it was slow, but maybe more scenic than a bus, and was only recently available to foreigners. But she said that it would not actually get us all the way to Dawei and that it was terribly uncomfortable. We should take a bus. But the next bus didn't leave for twenty four hours.

So we had our day in Mawlamyine anyway, like it or not. After sundown, the streets went vacant fast. The street that was packed with people and cars a couple hours earlier went dark and quiet.  Only a few pods of teenagers hung out in the shadows. We walked by one pod. I expected either to be ignored by the kids or get a friendly "Mingalaba". But instead, one shouted, "HI!" a bit sarcastically. I couldn't help but chuckle. Smart ass.

The recommended Indian restaurant down the road was run down and basic. The employees were friendly, but we were a little bit hesitant about cleanliness. The staff and room were especially dirty. But without any other clear choices in the area, we ordered and ate.  It felt risky but tasted fine.

Back at OK Hotel, we managed to get some sleep despite the fact that the hallway lights remained on all night, lighting up our room through the high windows.

In the morning, we headed off to find some sights. We walked up toward the local high ground temple to get some city views.

On our way up the road, a local man walking his bicycle started chatting us up. My urban defenses went up a bit. He seemed nice and asked us some small talk questions. But I figured he must want something, and would slowly roll out his pitch.

But I was wrong. He did continue walking and talking with us, but he just wanted to interact. He was truly just a friendly guy showing interest in the foreign visitors.

He is a carpenter named Kosin. He wore a loose fitting shirt with a pot leaf pattern on it.  As we walked up toward the temple, he pointed out the giant hundred year old prison we were walking past.  He pointed out some trees growing along the road and explained that cutting one down would get you a three year sentence in that very prison. I tried to understand what was so special about the trees, but it was lost in translation.

He asked us to have some tea with him to talk some more, and led us to a tea house across from the temple run by a friend of his.  He told us about his teenaged kids, and gave us a war history lesson involving the British and Japanese armies during World War II.  Apparently there was a major battle right where we were enjoying our tea.

We insisted on buying his drinks and snacks but he wouldn't have it.  He paid for ours in return for bending our ear.  Sweet man.

Anthea and I both softened on how we felt about the city after that experience. But we were still ready to go.

Our bus was scheduled to leave town just after sundown and would be a good twelve hour drive overnight before arriving in Dawei.

But schedules are merely loose guidelines it seems.  We sat in a parking lot with other ticket holders for several hours waiting for the bus to show up and then waited while the teen crew loaded up all kinds of cargo.

The television in the bus never stopped blaring all night at top volume.  It was impossible to sleep.  I suspect the teens may have blasted the volume so that they didn't fall asleep at the wheel.

In the middle of the night at one of the rest stops along the way, the bus wouldn't start back up.  Folks got out to push it started, which was no easy task given the uneven pot-holed road.

Rolling into Dawei after sunrise, Anthea and I agreed that would be our last overnight bus ride of the trip.