Shan State, Myanmar
As much as I complained about dry season’s heat, the mountainous nights were downright frigid. I froze my little toes off because I was unwilling to leave my blanket cocoon. Allison commented she would be using my mummy-like, head smothered in blankets method the next time. I really should have just grabbed more socks, but leaving a warm place was a hard sell at strange hours of the night.
You might find it strange to hear a Canadian complaining about light, single-digit cold, but we had something called central heating. You’d die without it where I was from as we typically hit -50 Celsius at least once a year. Freezing to death was also a legitimate concern for our homeless population. Here, they had blankets and the cold travelled right through the bamboo weaved walls like a knife. If you didn’t need to heat a place to survive, why bother, I suppose.
Thura got us up bright and early with some more mountain rice and an avocado salad, with tea of course. The daughters in our host family came to greet us. They sat on the balcony and applied a thick paste to the young men’s faces. The paste was a mix of tree bark and water, crushed in a circular stone bowl. They offered to put the Thanaka paste on us as well and we lapped up the experience -- happy to be like the locals -- even though it was quite the token tourist moment.
The daughter gently stroked my cheeks with a bristles slightly larger than a toothbrush after she had spread on the initial layer with her fingers. A circle was added to my forehead and she made sure to get my nose as well. After the six of us were coated in the natural sunscreen paste, we said goodbye to the families and went on our way. I handed them some Canada pins I had as we weren’t supposed to give money to the families. The trekking organization compensated them already and asked us not to.
Many of the men of the village hopped onto large trucks to pick ginger for the day or sell it. The prices it fetched in this country were painstakingly low compared to the going prices overseas. All that work for marbles. We waved goodbye and set off down the dusty trail.
Our first destination was a local market, the best kind! From living in Thailand, I was fairly well versed in market culture from the bartering to the selection of items offered. The Burmese market was no different with items ranging from clothing, to fresh produce, to laundry soap, or even car parts.
Allison and I wandered the market in search of interesting fabrics she could bring back home to add to her collection. She liked to use fabrics from around the world to use as curtains, wall hangings or to make cushion covers. She had done well finding unique ones during her time working in a school out in rural India.
As she searched, I kept my eyes on the traditional Pa-o sling bags until I finally asked one vendor the price. They were more than reasonable to accommodate my dwindling Burmese funds, so I bought one. The Pa-o were a hill tribe group that lived in this area and we had stayed with a few Pa-o families along our journey so far. Men and women wore the red or blue striped bags made of thick cloth, many of whom were shopping in the market today.
Luckily for our tired legs, the trek continued downhill and finished flat today. We went through a village and Thura invited our group into a complete stranger’s home. We met a nice curious man who wanted to know all about our jobs and where we came from while we had some tea. There was no naptime today, but we certainly appreciated the rest from walking in the sun. We began to feel like such natives to the country we almost shouted out a “Mingalaba!” 'hello' greeting at the passing group of foreigners. Only almost. It still managed to amuse Thura.
The tea break allowed us to learn more about the hill tribe culture. When a man and woman got married in this area, they moved to the woman’s village. The whole community banded together to build a home for them. All the engaged couple needed to do was feed the helpers. The villagers even supplied the materials for the bamboo home. Of course, the soon to be wed couple would repay the favour when the next couple came.
We teased Thura that he should find himself a wife, but he expressed he was too much of an outsider in this area for it to work. He kind of liked bigger city life too. I could see his job taking a hit in a less frequented area. It would be a pain to have to rebuild the bamboo house every five to six years because of the beating it takes during rainy season.
On the bamboo theme, we continued our trek to cross bamboo bridges which consisted of a vertically sliced stalk placed alongside others to traverse gaps or rivers. After crossing ten or so bridges, we finally got the hang of the balance technique. I had had some practise in Thailand, trying to carry a bike across one, and it went much better this time.
The trek ended earlier than yesterday’s. Our final stretch brought us uphill from the river where we had passed men weaving large baskets out of thinly sliced bamboo strands. A few villagers approached us for our disposable plastic water bottles on the way up and we happily handed them over. They brought them down to the river to collect water and bring it up to the village. I loved seeing that they finally weren't just ending up in the trash. While running water wasn’t a constant, it didn’t mean the whole village was extremely poor. Some homes had electricity and others even TV and satellite. It was a real mix. The homes in that villages were made of stronger materials -- bricks and thick wood -- than the previous village's bamboo structures.
My stomach had grumbled away for most of the hike and even our snacks – veggie samosas, grapes, and chips -- weren’t sitting all that well. I tagged along for the self-guided village walk with the Danish women, but relief washed over me when we returned to our dwelling for a good stretch. Thura had to pull his cousin out of the room for that part as he wasn’t taking the other cues that it was inappropriate to watch us in all sorts of yoga/stretch poses.
At supper hour, I had no appetite but still wanted to eat since Thura was such a great cook. It also didn't hurt that I loved food. Eating was one of the greatest joys of traveling,especially since meals occurred three times a day. I took small portions of a few things that I thought might sit well with my stomach. After supper, I excused myself to rest on my bed and get sick in their little outhouse. Our guide offered to make me a tea to settle my stomach. He expressed that he didn’t bring medicines on the trek as he thought it would be bad luck.
The tea had turmeric and ginger among other things, but it smelled quite rank. I leaned towards it and had to push myself away as a wave of nausea overtook me. I shook my head back and forth like a five-year-old and apologized since I knew I couldn’t drink it. The guide encouraged me, but I knew I would get sick. Under normal circumstances, I would have drank the tea, but at this moment you could have offered me sweet, succulent mango juice and I would have turned it down.
I ran to my temporary bed -- which was about ten steps away -- grabbed a plastic bag, and ran out the door. I only made it as far as the balcony before my supper, lunch and everything in between was projected over the second story balcony.
My body took on a fever; I was shaking and couldn’t keep anything down at that point. Our guide came out to comfort me and gave me a backrub as I got sick. I had never thought about the combination of those two actions, but from that day on I would look for that quality in a man, someone to give backrubs while my body acted like a garbage chute.
We sat on the steps afterwards as my feverish body recovered and he continued to comfort me. The family we stayed with took turns coming out from the home or the lower level to cast us suspicious glances. They were not impressed a single Burmese man was paying so much -- most likely inappropriate in this culture -- attention to a young foreign girl. I wasn’t helping much either because all I wanted to do at that moment was to be held like that. I wouldn't go anywhere unless they started to yell at us and thankfully, they didn’t.
We went back inside and he helped put me to bed. He set out plastic bags, toilet paper, a flashlight, and hand sanitizer, which I would need within reach all night. He gave me a lime to sniff to ease my nausea, which was quite effective. I took a concoction of stomach soothers I had available -- Imodium and ginger chews -- and rested while I got a full body massage.
It was kind of awkward as we were in a room full of people and I was ready to pass out. He ran to the other girls when he found my ice cold toes, thinking that I was going to die or something. Apparently, poor circulation wasn’t common around these parts. We all assured him I was fine, just temporarily sick.
As my body began to near a slumbering state, I caught pieces of conversation about Thura's time in Thailand. He had smuggled himself into the country less than legally and stayed there for a few months without finding the employment he expected. To get home, he had to ride all the way up to the Northern border in the luggage compartment of a bus, hoping they’d let him back in. Passports costed a ridiculous portion of a person’s wages in Myanmar so that wasn’t an option. I hadn't even realized how different our situations had been when we had talked about working and living in Bangkok. Just another sobering reminder of how fortunate my circumstances were, despite the sickness.
In the morning, I tried some ginger tea to ease the stomach that had me running to the squatter outhouse all night. I would never take lighting and toilet seats for granted ever again. Two other girls felt just as sick this morning, so we decided to fork over an extra amount each to take a truck to the boats instead of trekking all day.
Initially, I thought it would have been okay to walk it, but my Imodium wore off a couple hours later and I realized that they put far more than stomach neutralizers in there. I felt absolutely exhausted, weak and sore. Colleen was wonderful and distracted me with stories about snakes so I could make the walk to the boats heading for Inle Lake.