mikey b

Leaving Burma proved to be more of a headache than I had hoped for. It was as if the government themselves were clawing at the straps of my backpack at every step of the way. I had checked-in online to save time at the airport. On arrival, I sailed, rather smugly it must be said, past the long line of people waiting to check-in. The long queue appeared to be going nowhere as every person seemed to want to negotiate the size, shape and weight of each bag they owned with meticulous detail. With my little rucksack, a little heavier from the odd souvenir, I glided past and upstairs to immigration. I handed over my passport, departure form and printed boarding pass for inspection. After a brief flick through my passport the immigration official barked for ... read more

The cloudy flight from Thandwe afforded slight glimpses of the terrain below. A long quilted patchwork of brown-mottled fields of dry crops spread out across the vast plain beneath. Long, brown swirls of river snaked between the tortoise-shell-like landscape as the little twin-prop banked hard then landed at Sittwe. I was only one of a couple of foreigners to disembark and fought off the army of touts, vying for the small amount of business, to secure a taxi with another traveller, a German lady, to my hotel. The rain poured down on Sittwe as it had done in Ngapali with only short breaks between the showers. Sittwe is the main town of the Rakhaing province in western Myanmar, close to the border with Bangladesh. As a result of this the people here are visibly different to ... read more

The bus from Nyuang U to Kalaw was an old creaking metal beast, the insides of which had clearly been refitted by someone that had never sat down in their lives. The legroom wasn’t suitable for even a midget and the seat-back was positioned at a 95 degree angle. This ensured that my bum was always uncomfortably perched on the edge of the uncomfortably upholstered seat whilst my body tilted forwards uncontrollably for 10 hours. I was up at 3.30am with my Italian friends and the bus departed at 4am but sleep was expectedly elusive considering the seating arrangements. The dusty road continued through small towns and villages, picking up more people each time we stopped. We paused at Meiktila and Thazi, passing long military convoys comprising of large bottle green trucks and artillery surrounded by ... read more

The road to Mandalay was not a comfortable one and very far from the wonderfully luxurious double-decked buses of South America. The narrow, hard seat had minimal legroom (even for me) and reclined only a couple of degrees. This made for a torrid night sleep in which I woke up every hour with a numb behind and knees screaming to be out-stretched. The silver lining was that I was treated to sunrise from the bus. The big orange ball rose over farming fields and rice paddies as the bus eventually rumbled into Mandalay at 7am. Taxi drivers held boards of hotels, hoping to lure customers to them. I had made friends with a couple of Italian girls (Carla and Antonella) on the bus who were heading to a hotel so we shared the taxi fare into ... read more

The ride back to Senaru was bum-numbingly bad but I made it back in one sunburnt piece. I spent one more night here to recuperate before heading back round the coast of Lombok to Mataram. As well as climbing Rinjani there are a few waterfalls in the area that I wanted to see. I caught a lift on a scooter with one of the Rinjani guides the following day up the hill again. Before hitting the top we veered off on a narrow dirt track. The track was only just about one tyre width wide with a fast flowing irrigation channel on one side and a steep drop down into rice paddies far below on the other. The white knuckle ride lasted for 10 minutes or so as my driver weaved his way along the track ... read more