Hypertravel with Hardie #19: Laos and Southern China

#19 Lao/Yunnan xPhongsaly, Laos: at the end of a long lonely road... It may or may not be the 'end of the earth', but it definitely qualifies as the outback of Southeast Asia, for whatever that's worth, probably not much, so long as China keeps encroaching, as it surely will, not so long ago Vietnam probably the greater transgressor, with its oversized population, locked into such a narrow sliver of prime southeast Asian coastline, and punctuated by rivers, this the only country in the world, that I know of, that is self-defined by its water, i.e. 'nuoc Vietnam', Viet-water, as opposed to Thai-land, Ire-land, Green-land, or Switzer-land, for example (if you're familiar with Vietnamese fish-sauce, nuoc mam, then you might recognize that same word nuoc)... But that's Vietnam, and this is Laos, though you might not know it at the crossroads town of UdomXai, a town of literally no more than a few tens of thousands, but with buses heading to all the four corners, i.e. China, Vietnam, and Thailand, every neighboring state except Burma, Myanmar, and locals can even go from Phongsaly to Luang Namtha, one part of Laos to another, via China, would that this option were only open to foreigners, and you might have a resuscitation of the backpacker market in this region... Which has largely left China out of that equation, not that they'd even know or even care, given the swarms of their own locals that have largely taken over tourist sites once almost the exclusive private reserve of foreigners. But that won't likely happen any time soon, much less the 'Five Chiangs' concept, of somehow re-configuring that original Tai-land... ...proto-state, with one visa for it all, splayed now over four national territories and the upper Mekong River, same as it ever was: Chiang Rung, Xieng Tong (Luang Prabang), Chiang Rai, Chiang Mai, and Kyaingtong, which failed to thrive until reconfigured as Lan Na and Lan Xang, long before the modern states of Thailand and Laos came into existence... And the hills of Phongsaly sit overlooking much of that. But first you have to get there, and the fact that the bus driver's helper hands out little plastic bags before the trip should give you a clue. Hint: the bags are not for trash. And so it goes, up and up and up, but not so high, really, just twisting and turning, past the non-descript little burgs of Boun Tai (lower) and Boun Neua (upper), where much of the modern infrastructure of government is being relocated, apparently, as Phongsaly itself retreats further into the clouds... Confirmed upon arrival, the curly twirly road transforms into a curly twirly town, with no real center, much less a red light, or anything fancy like that, just a few key intersections holding place notation, for what constitutes the definition of a city, a place where roads meet and business is transacted, long before houses will be built and babies will be born, far less an entertainment district upon which to flail oneself and desires shamelessly... But the temps are cool, so this would be quite nice in the hot dry season March-May, while all the lowland dogs are dizzying with parched eyes ears nose and throat. And this is still the rainy season, too, though theoretically petering out, but I'm not so sure, as the third day grows torrential, and I'm worried about that patchwork road, and it's not so dirt cheap here, either, much less spectacular, the tribal peoples a bit dogged and tired-looking, a bit the worse for wear... So I leave after four nights, after a long 6-8km/4-5mi hike down down down a long country road and back back back the same way I came, Ban Chantane I believe was the name, calves now aching from the long uphill, and after torrential rains, and forecasting more of the same, figure I might better hoof on out of the woods while I still can, 'cause if that road washes out, then I'll be at the mercy of ditch diggers and tractor drivers, while all the fun is going on down below in the the green beautiful valleys... Ha! Luang Prabang, maybe, the pearl in Lao's oyster, but not UdomXai, just a hard-scrabble crossing, of roads and peoples, but that's okay, 'cause once it gets that groovy 'travel vibe', then it loses whatever authenticity it may once have had, but hard to calculate, because it's just too fluid and changing to measure with any accuracy, the comings and goings of peoples on landscapes, further confused by the dimension of time, and Heisenberg's Uncertainty Principle, which makes it impossible to calculate position and momentum simultaneously... And sure enough it happened! We get stuck! Or almost, anyway, the bus unable to climb the muddy hill without sliding into the ditch. So it'll take a wench and a large tractor to get us back mobile, and on into UdomXai before nightfall, rooms at the ready, unlike the previous stop, some four days before, after midnight and all rooms full, just Mary Magdalene roaming the streets looking for something and I not about to be the one to tell her either yes or no... It's better this way, I recovering my travel legs after two months of four walls, steeling myself for the re-entry into China, m*therf*cking China, full of face and lacking in grace and as inevitable as it is unfathomable. And that is my fate. But there is no rush, so first I'll go to Luang Namtha and Muang Sing, the latter apparently fallen from grace since its heydays of the 90's, last time I was there, too, so we'll see... If nothing else, it'll be worth it for the Tai Dam peoples, one of my favorites, and the start of any serious discussion of Tai history and culture. After all I can speak this language, and that's the Holy Grail of travel, chatting up the locals, especially here and Thailand, where people are infinitely chattable. So that's what's for supper tomorrow. And what did you do today? Time-Travel: A Tale of Two Towns in the Laotian Outback... At age 64, and after 155 countries and more than forty years of travel, it's all time-travel now, going back to see something I once saw before, and seeing all the changes that time has wrought, rather than seeing it all virgin-like for the first time, like a gap-year giggly-mouthed googly-eyed greenhorn, that prototypical wide-mouth chin-dropping awe that inspires sales of toothpaste and fashion, featuring credit cards and deodorant, dreams of midnights and long flights, and carrying prophylactics, just in case... But it's all different now. What was once exotic is now just chaotic, and International Standard Pidgin English ensures that you're not likely to miss a meal, unless you really want to. Hard-core travel cowboys consume geography like chocolate cake on Sunday, apps logging miles and journals logging impressions, with an index, and a table of contents, and an itinerary to be followed.... But once upon a time the mark of a true backpacker was his ability to get lost, and find the remotest track to the remotest border crossing in the remotest neck of the remotest woods of the remotest God-forsaken country, with a pristine people and a pristine attitude and a pristine culture, just so that we can change all that, in exchange for some sustenance in the form of a few crusty loaves and a pocket-full of tissues... But most travelers now it seems just want to party, the more the better, vast quantities of alcohol to help ease the transition into a once-foreign culture, locals reduced to extras in their own movie, culture and language just a sideshow for evening entertainment, to hold ones interest between the main acts of daily sightseeing and nightly binge-drinking... But before all this there was pot, grass, weed, joints, spliffs, reefer, marijuana, whatever, you smoke it and it gets you high, or so I hear. And for the really adventurous there was even opium, vestige of the old days here in outback Asia, religion of the masses back when not much else was available, and cash crop for many when the market got excited about heroes and heroin back in the late 20th century flowering of youth culture, and related fashion accessories... And that's where Muang Sing fit right in, a few years before Y2K (remember that?), as Laos re-entered the world after its aborted Communist nightmare, and travelers rushed in to enjoy cheap rooms, cheap highs and all the Lao beer one could drink. So when I stumbled in to Luang Nam Tha around '97-'98 from China, that's where all the travelers were heading, Muang Sing, a couple hours away, and nestled up against a Chinese border crossing that foreigners weren't allowed to use, still aren't... There were hill-tribe peoples there galore, and revolution in the air, Laos still proudly Communist, even if dependent on a helping hand from distant cousin Vietnam, while capitalist big brother Thailand stayed far in the background. I was buying crafts, and they were making them, so plenty of reason to hang around, just to see if something might make a splash in the market... And when I came back around 2002 it was even better, Tai Dam people coming in to the area from over-crowded Vietnam, and inviting me in to their houses, just as if I were one of them, ostensibly to look at crafts, maybe even buy, but no big deal, just chill with or without a deal. And Lao people from all over were coming in, too, just to catch the buzz, and hopefully make a few bucks... Back then Luang Nam Tha was just a stopover on the way there, nothing much to see or do, a provincial government center, and not much else, first stopover on the way in from Yunnan province, China, or connection point up from Huay Xai and Chiang Khong, Thailand, down on the Mekong, all secondary to the main tourist business a day away in Luang Prabang, and another day to the capital Vientiane... But that's all changed. For some reason Muang Sing has dried up, while Luang Nam Tha has made steady gains, if no big deal, but still steady. All the major latter-day-hippie trade in tricks and treats has moved far south to Vang Vieng, between Luang Prabang and Vientiane, and even farther south to the 4000 Islands, near Cambodia... There's little or no indie travel to China here now, even though the road from Thailand is now good, but the travel scene in China has largely dried up, too, for indie travel foreigners, that is, not the Chinese hordes, who have largely repopulated the groovy destinations that backpackers once put on the travel map. Meanwhile the travel scene that barely existed in Cambodia in 1997 is now near saturation, between foreign indies and those same Chinese hordes... And it's impossible not to compare with another prime location some twenty years ago, already written up in these pages a few posts back, i.e. Yangshuo, China, which is now totally overrun by the aforementioned hordes, to the extent that it is now imminently avoidable, and hopefully forgettable, as I struggle to erase it from my short-term memory before it writes itself into long-term. This is the extreme opposite of what has happened in Muang Sing, and honestly, I don't know which is worse, uh-huh. I persevere... YUNNAN 828 Leaving Laos, Enter the Dragon... So the nice lady at the Boten-Mohan border between Laos and China in the far Southwest decided to hassle me about my latest entry into the Kingdom—my fourth over the past year—inquiring as to my motives. “Tourism,” I respond, just like it says on the form. But that doesn't seem to satisfy her. “Sight-seeing,” I add, since I know I'd seen that word on the form, also. I have a ten-year tourist visa, BTW, so 3650 days, plus two or three for leap years, maximum 60 days per entry, so some 600 entries possible (but who's counting?)... Then she asks, in English, if I speak Chinese, so I shrug and respond, “a little.” That's what she wants to hear, I figure. If she wanted to speak Chinese, she'd've asked in Chinese. So she fumes and fusses and calls someone over, who quickly green-lights the entry, but just for a final 'f*ck-you' she holds my passport up to my face as I pass, as if to verify my identity. The passport and picture are less than a year old, so not much has changed, but that's not the point, is it? xTai Bizarro World in China? If I didn't know better, I'd almost swear that on some cosmic drafting table in some corner of the universe there is a blueprint for the Tai diaspora out of China from a couple thousand years ago, or maybe outta' North Vietnam in half that, in which the northern and southern flanks of this proto-Tai state are laid out on either side of what would become Laos like a mirror image of each other, in which the northern Tai towns of Jinghong (Chieng Rung), Mengla, and Mohan (Bor Han) would become Chiang Mai, Chiang Rai and Mae Sai, respectively... And it will take me a cool year or two to become fluent in Mandarin, no matter how hard it try. So Mengla has been my makeshift home for the last three weeks, while I finish my current term for online studies, and plot my next move. Frankly I really don't want to travel much in mainland China, due to the difficulties of indie travel there, here, mostly in the booking of rooms, but that is not so much of a problem here. I've been at the same place for three weeks and never even registered! That would be unthinkable elsewhere, where foreigners are often not even allowed, especially in the cheaper digs, and always thoroughly registered, complete with color glossy photos or at least smartphone pics. Remember that in case you need to 'lay low' somewhere sometime. But don't expect a 'travel vibe' here, as I have yet to see another western soul the whole time. I'm sure Jinghong has more, but not much... The bloom is off the rose in China, and rightfully so, as it ain't so cheap any more, and the hassles are endless. But that's next stop. Fortunately in this neck of the woods cheapie hotels are ubiquitous and not hard to find, so kinda' like the old days where you get off the bus and just start walking, Lonely Planet optional. Forget the booking sites, except for reference, or just to book the first night and then take it from there... Jinghong is perfect, so similar to my erstwhile digs in north Thailand, that they almost share the same language, if you care to take the time to learn it. And no I'm not talking about the lingua franca of Chinese, but the original Tai Lue dialect, so similar to northern Thailand's kam meuang... But these Tai ladies still wear the traditional rags, so as to distinguish themselves from the predominant Chinese, I suppose, something you'd only see in northern Thailand in such out-of-the-way villes as Pai or Mae Sot, where a northern Thai majority is not assured, and so becomes a matter of pride, similar to the African dress of Trinidadians, where a black majority of the population may or may not exist, and where such clothing doesn't exist elsewhere in the Caribbean where blacks indeed do have the majority... But Jinghong resembles Chiang Mai more than Chiang Rai, if only for the larger population and greater stategic importance, even if Jinghong is much more attractive, really, with its tree-lined streets, of mostly palm, something any place in Thailand could only dream of, that and clear clean sidewalks, which you do have to share with the occasional motorbike, unfortunately, but still... So my new project now is to learn the Tai Lue alphabet, so as to learn the Tai Lue language, half of which I know already, but I just don't know which half, and to learn Chinese characters, also, except in the case where I already know the Chinese character, so compare it to the Tai Lue script, to see if I'm right or if I'm wrong, or if it's a phonetic transcription of the Chinese character, or a definition thereof, or if by luck there's some Latin letters, too, then I'm in alpha beta heaven, no quibble between us where there's no stones to be thrown, Rosetta stone, that is... And so for kicks I go to the nearby town of Menghai, which apparently hasn't seen a foreign Westerner in many many years, judging by their reaction to me, ranging from fear, to endearment, to outright befuddlement, but the city's no beauty, and the altitude guarantees a chill, so I put it on the back burner for the hot season, just in case I have no other way to beat the heat... And that’s just about a wrap, for me, at least, with probably six months in China over the previous two years and with most of that in Yunnan, including the Tai far south and the Tibetan far north, in addition to Sichuan to the direct east and Guangxi and Guangzhou to the far southeast, all the way to Hong Kong. Still my favorite day was in the Xishuangbanna town of Mengla, already mentioned, when and where I was invited to attend a wedding celebration between two local Tai youths tying knots and what-not while I watched as Buddhist monks presided over the ceremonies and I spoke Tai Lue as best I could with the peeps, the final swirl to the linguistic dressing of Tai dialects that I’ve been rehearsing over my many years there. The same is true for the Kingdom of Laos. There isn’t time or space nor easily available pictures to rehash it all here, but much , if not all is available on my Backpackers/Flashpackers blog on Wordpress. There won’t be many more video episodes of Hypertravel with Hardie for better or worse, but i can put it all in book format, if the demand exists. Please like and subscribe.

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Hypertravel with Hardie #15: Myanmar (Burma)

The Name Has Changed: It's Myanmar now, not Bummer... I've been to the Burmese/Thai border-town Tachilek many times on visa runs, and so have had my eye on the country for years, while never having a pressing need to collect the stamp, just to satisfy my personal mandate to visit every country in the world before I die—or it does... And I've been to the Thai-Burmese border town of Mae Sot a few times, too, and even though it's on the Thai side, while the other is officially Burmese, it always felt more truly Burmese to me, Muslim Burmese mostly, refugees I suppose, and complete with nearby violence and cross-border excursions from Karen (no, not her) tribal violence in the area... But I finally got serious about visiting the real Myanmar a few years ago. So did everyone else, and demand suddenly exceeded supply to the extent that not enough rooms were available, and those that were were pricey. Think a dozen or two Expedia listings for Yangon three years ago, a hundred or two now... So far it feels good, here in Yangon. I'm flashing on Hanoi 1996, but it could just as easily be Viangchan 2000 or Phnom Penh 2004, that sweet spot between development and primitiveness, when there are enough amenities to allow indie travel, as opposed to fail-safe group tours, but not so overrun with travelers that it spoils the reason you came in the first place. Or maybe Chiangmai, Thailand 1992... That means that you'll get a lot of smiles without too much trying and a lot of scammers trying to get their hands in your pants—pockets. It also means a lot of signs in a language you don't understand, and very few in the international language—English—such as it is. So what there is for foreigners are few and far between, and higher-priced, to boot... But that assessment should be qualified. Prices are higher in the most obvious tourist gathering places, such as Bogyoke Market, which is otherwise very interesting and nice, a central market for crafts and local products, the likes of which are getting harder to find in this world of malls and suburbs. But menus without prices in the down-and-dirty comedores? Not a good sign—but not to worry, whew, buck and a half with green tea included, my kind of deal... Ironically you can find some very reasonable prices in very sanitary conditions in some of those very malls that I otherwise abhor, like good-quality espresso for little more than half a buck USD, which would cost almost twice that in the fancy places near the central market. Go figure. Moral of the story: avoid the touts and loud shouts, as the best things in life are quiet, sweet and discreet... And the Burmese are sweet, notwithstanding the seemingly random violence that still haunts the country along its edges and among its minorities. So Myanmar has the dubious distinction of being the only Buddhist country with overt religious violence, at the same time that it has a reputation as the strictest of countries in the Theravada school of Buddhism, a major interest of mine... So I went to check out a Buddhist meditation center called Dhamma Joti, and it looks pretty good, ten day retreats available that apparently are free, and with room and board. Of course, you're expected to meditate most of the day every day, but that's what you want, right? Yeah, right. This is not Buddhism lite... I personally would only hope that there would be some temple life to go with that, which may or may not be the case. Many Westerners don't want any religion to spoil the flavor of their 'wellness' broth, so that could conveniently be missing. And there are others, too, yet to be thoroughly sussed. Apparently Myanmar is getting a reputation for such centers. If the price is right, the tourists will bite... Shwedagon Pagoda is the big tourist draw in Yangon, gold and glittery and crawling with tourists, I mean 'pilgrims', golden spires to inspire you and money-changers right there in the temple to relieve you of the extra pounds under your belt. There are also many lesser sites if you want to get totally stupa'd with them, a Buddhist bang for your buck, five quid a head and the palatial estate is yours—and theirs—for the day... They even have Christian churches with meetings on Sunday, helluva deal. There are ATM's everywhere, and nobody gets too hot and bothered by a creased banknote now, very civilized for a country on its way to the tourist big-time. There is a Chinatown and a downtown, but I can't tell the difference. But this is still Old Asia, and you'll see things here that long ago disappeared elsewhere, things that only poverty can produce. Enjoy it while it lasts, next stop Bagan... Angkor What? Anchor this: The first thing you notice on the bus up from Yangon to Bagan is that the entire countryside seems empty. As Gertrude Stein put it so aptly when describing Oakland, CA: “There is no there there.” Now this may indeed be the new road, so avoiding the population centers directly, but still: in Thailand every available parcel of land would have a 'For Sale' sign before the road was even finished, and there would be new developments springing up as fast as the equipment could be trucked in from China... But when we finally do get off the main road and into some villages, then you see why. It's poor, dirt poor. If Communism stopped a clock for those countries that only began ticking again in 1991, then 'Burmese socialism' stopped a clock which is only now beginning to tick some quarter century after its Commie neighbors in SE Asia. Better late than never, I suppose. But you'll see things here that have long been rendered obsolete elsewhere in the world, like horse-drawn carts—for locals! At reasonable prices! And ox-carts, too, in the countryside. And taxis in general are reasonably priced, for that matter, no small miracle in a non-Uber part of the world. And those teak-wood storefronts that you occasionally see in small outback Thai towns are still de rigueure here, where almost all houses in small villages are still that stilted wooden variety... The town of Nyaung Oo serves as support base for the nearby ruins of Bagan, but there isn't much to it, truth be told, just a long strip of funky shops, banks, airline offices, hotels and tour guides that feel like they landed here from another planet, which they did, I suppose, after the government ran all the locals out of what is now called 'Old Bagan', the densest core of ancient temples and ceremonial structures... It's all pretty loosely organized and if you're serious about temple spelunking, you better hire a guide. Otherwise, you can wander around on bicycle or e-bike and just get a sense of the splendor of it all, which is what I did. It lacks the intricate detail of Angkor Wat in Kampuchea, but makes up for it in sheer size and scale of the 42 sq. mi. splay of antiquity. If you want the money shot of 'Balloons over Bagan', then you might need to ride in one yourself, but it likely won't be cheap... Aside from the field of dreams itself, Mt. Popa is another convenient and nearby excursion for pilgrimages to the mountain-top temple and its nat-filled haunts, full of local pilgrims and a few tourists, too. Now I don't know what you've heard about Myanmar/Burma's emergence onto the tourist scene, but I assure you, it ain't too late. No, it's not the cheapest place in SE Asia, but neither was Vietnam back in 1995 or Laos in Y2K. That takes time, and by then it'll be overrun and the locals will be jaded... Get it? This is the last domino to fall, and Old Asia will be just a pleasant memory, of coolies with canvas sacks on their backs, water buffalo plowing fields, crowded 'wet' markets piled high with produce and dry ones with clothing and crafts and antiques and such, women—and men—with balance beams across the small of their backs with two heaps of something or other in baskets carefully balanced so as not to kill the messenger... This is Burma. This is Asia. This is planet Earth. This is 2017. Everything changes, not some of the time, but all the time, and the things that are gone will not come back, except in memory. There's only one catch: without those memories, you're limited to your immediate field of sensory perception and nothing else, and that's poverty, my friend, poverty of the worst kind—unless you're Buddhist, and/or lost in meditation. Word to the wise: see Burma before it all changes and something classic is lost forever... Burma Up North: The Road to Mandalay... ...sounds romantic and all, but it isn't so much, really, just asphalt and gravel, like anywhere else. Fortunately there are other options, like the train, plane, or boat. I'd like to say that the boat ride to get here from Bagan makes it all worthwhile—but it doesn't, not really, though admittedly it is more comfortable than pot-holed roads and betel-chewing Burmese drivers... At any given moment the average Burmese working stiff is working a wad of chew that would make a Cincinnati Red pitcher green with envy. But don't startle him or he may accidentally unload a dollop of spittle your direction that just might ruin your day. At least they don't drive like the maniacs in Thailand. Burma is chilled by comparison—and the roads simply won't allow it... But the river trip really has nothing much to see, not until you get to Sagaing, and that's an easy day-trip from Mandalay, anyway. It's not like there are loads of cool river villages and towns to view along the way. There just aren't. So I'd say the river trip is optional—at best. Burma is not cheap, anyway, so save your money for something more worthwhile, like paying your entry fee to selected sites, like the archaeological zone at Bagan or the human zoo at Inle Lake—free sarcasm available upon request... But I don't think Mandalay deserves the bum rap that it sometimes gets. Sure, it's a big busy city, but I've seen worse. At least it's walk-able, something you'd have difficulty saying about Bangkok, Jakarta, or many other places in SE Asia, or the world, either, for that matter. And what it lacks in charm, it makes up in open space, including a massive palace complex and a commanding hill-as-pilgrimage-site like only Burma really knows how to do it—okay, so maybe China, too... What I don't like so much about Mandalay is that the quality of refreshing innocence available elsewhere seems to be singularly lacking here. And of course, that's most easily measurable amongst the taxi drivers. Whereas in Yangon the first price quoted is pretty accurate and honest, God bless them, in Mandalay that doesn't hold true, and in fact they can be as rape-atious as anywhere in the world. They beat me on the price from the boat landing to my hotel, so I was on guard after that... After the long walk to Mandalay Hill AND a long confusing walk up to the top, I somehow managed to come down a different path, despite my best efforts. So that kind of disorientation is always a good time to hail a taxi, so I proffered offers from the local moto-boys. The first one asked 30,000 kyat (about $25), at which I suggested he needed psychological help, and responded with an offer of 3000, which I figured to be about right, walking away to make my point... ...which is what you have to be willing to do, of course, if you want the right price. Anyway, I walked over, so I figured I could walk back, so that helps. Another bike-boy came up and did the trip for 2500. It also helps if you the name of landmarks in the local tongue, correctly pronounced and with the right tones. The main market is zeigyo, pronounced zay-joe not ziggy-o. Don't f*ck with me, m*otherf*cker... So yes, Mandalay is guilty of the same crimes as Paris and the same samsara pitfalls as Kathmandu, but it ain't all that bad, really. But no, Mandalay is not a place to fall in love with, more like a place to bide your time, a place for life to happen while you make other plans... Those plans could include excursions in any direction, though Shan state to the east is the big lure for me, with close relations to ethnic Tais in Thailand and Laos and China, too, the Far east of the state arguably more 'Thai' than Burmese, and an open question for me as to whether and how well I might be able to communicate, what with my knowledge of standard Thai, Laotian and northern Thai dialect... The Burmese and Thai language have little or nothing in common, unlike Khmer and Thai, unless you count the similarities between the Thai and Burmese words for two-wheeled conveyances, 'mo-to-cy' in Thai and 'mo-to-by' in Burmese, apparently deriving from a common Sanskrit root. Oh well, I guess it'll have to wait, unless my meditation retreat in Yangon falls through, something Burma has become known for, apparently, though not the inspiration for this trip. But that's where I'll go after a brief stop at Inle Lake, and that's worth more to me than all the travel in the world. Mindlessness or mindfulness? Tough choice, yeah, right... Inle Lake: It's a Wet Dream.... For the first time, I'm annoyed at Burma, probably even pissed, at having to pay an entrance fee to the tourist complex at Inle Lake, based in Nyaungshwe. I mean: preservation of an archaeological zone is costly, and expensive, too, but Inle has none of that, and Nyaunshwe is a bit shabby, if you don't mind me saying, a coat of dust covering the entire affair, tourists included. What are we paying for, anyway? But the main offense is the mere proliferation of tourist amenities, albeit without the aforementioned infrastructure. This is something that has been lacking—refreshingly—so far in Burma, and really the reason to justify the higher prices, like paying a premium bride price for a virgin. And the main marketing pitch seems to be toward millennial malingerers, looking for alcohol and a place to drink it... But my fears are largely misplaced, for now at least. This is hardly Vang Vieng in Laos of a few years ago, or Siem Reap, much less Khao Sarn Road, or, God forbid, the Full Moon party

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