Day 76: Mae Sot to Chiang Mai

The following morning Kendyl and I woke up early and decided to venture down to the Burmese border and attempt to make a little mischief. What would happen if we just walked across the bridge into Burma? We’d shortly find out.

Or, rather, Kendyl would. My passport was serving as the deposit for the motorbike we were still riding, so the Thai border guards wouldn’t even let me onto the bridge. Crestfallen, I turned the motorbike back toward the guesthouse, all the while shooting an envious glance at Kendyl, who was prancing through Thai security and onto the Thai/Burmese “Friendship Bridge.”

I went back to our guesthouse, collected our belongings, and met Kendyl at the bus station, so the rest of the story I only heard secondhand through her. But it seems that Kendyl’s prance across the bridge was stopped by the Burmese border guards on the other side, who insisted she pay a hefty fee to enter Burma for the day.

“I’m only going in for a few minutes,” she replied, but it seems the Burmese military wasn’t budging. Deciding that paying a pointless fee directly into the junta’s bank account was morally reprehensible, besides being somewhat financially foolish, Kendyl told them that she would just head back to Thailand.

“But now you have Thai exit stamp, so you must get Myanmar entrance stamp before you can reenter Thailand.”

Ooo. The exit stamp. A valid point. Kendyl decided she’d take her chances. Meanwhile, our bus to Chiang Mai was leaving in ten minutes.

She ran back across the bridge and presented her passport for reentry. “Where is your Myanmar entrance stamp?” Uh oh.

It took a few minutes of big smiles and apologies, but Kendyl eventually convinced the border guard (who at this point thought Kendyl must be a complete idiot) to cancel the exit stamp and let her back into Thailand. Accordingly, Kendyl now has a big red “Cancelled” stamp in her passport. Fantastic.

But we made the bus. Back in Chiang Mai, we hit the bouldering wall at CMRCA and then convinced the whole crew to go out to a bar called Warm Up that night for one last hoorah before Kendyl and I left for good the following morning.

The bar was a blast, not least because of all the ladyboy sightings. A few hours later, as we sat at Mike’s eating late night burgers, I once again realized how much I’d miss this place. Chiang Mai—who knew?