We’ve been offline for the last few days because we’ve been out of internet range on a CRAZY and somewhat SCARY adventure!

This week’s adventure was instigated by the need to do a VISA run. What do I mean by a VISA run?

When we came to Thailand, we were all given a 30 day visa. On the 29th day, we needed to cross the border into one of Thailand’s surrounding countries to renew our VISA so we could stay longer in Thailand. You basically leave Thailand, get stamped in the other country, and walk back over into Thailand.

Brian and I went back and forth on this subject for days. Should we do the eight hour drive to and from Malaysia? Should we end our trip up north in Chang Mai, and do the Visa run up there?

In the midst of trying to figure out where to go, a friend told us about the idea of Ecotourism and Andaman Discoveries (AD). AD is a non profit organization that helps raise funds for surviving villages hit by the Tsunami. One of the primary ways AD raises money is through hosting and organizing Ecotourism (sometimes known as Homestays) within the villages. The idea of doing a home-stay in a traditional Thai village sounded perfect for the kids to experience.

But before I get into our Home-stay experience, let’s talk about the Visa run we did.

After we decided to do a Home-stay through AD, it made the most sense to drive 4 hours, get on a longtail, cross into Burma, get our VISAs stamped, get back on the longtail, cross back into Thailand and be done with it. We would only be 1 hour away from the village for our Home-stay. Perfect distance. It sounded easy. It sounded like no big deal.

By the time we arrived in Ranong (the city where we get our longtail to cross into Burma), it was 4:30pm. The Thai custom’s office closes at 6pm. Without knowing what happened, a whirlwind hit us up side the head. Before we had even pulled into the pier, men were yelling at us from the pier parking lot and telling us to hurry. They already knew we were showing up for one reason: get into Burma fast, get our stamp, and get out even faster.

Luckily (I don’t use the word “luckily” in writing much but it’s perfect here!)…luckily, our friends had told us what to expect with crossing into Burma.

They said we’d get in a longtail boat, stop at a couple different check points, and when we got to Burma we would be asked for a “crisp” US $5 bill. This is what Burma immigration would demand. Five dollars for each person. If we didn’t have the $5 bill, no worries, someone would be standing outside selling them for us to buy. Ok…

Our friends then said that we would be asked by the Burmese if we wanted to buy any thing while we’re here. They said not to resist and go by something, anything. The point was that every visitor bought something in Burma no matter how short your stay was.

Once we bought something, paid them our crisp $5 bill, we would be ushered back on the boat and head back to Thailand.

Brian and I were so thankful for this bit of information because we weren’t prepared for how frantic every thing would feel. Picture us being in southern Thailand on beaches with beautiful blue waters, a culture that is always smiling, an atmosphere that is relaxed and easy going, and then being in complete Burmese CHAOS!

Getting in the longtail alone was different than all the longtails we’ve been riding. For starters, notice anything non Western like below the longtail driver?

The longtails also sat much lower in the water, are skinnier, and all the longtails are trying to cram into one small place off the pier.

You had to jump over a couple longtails to even get to yours–while they are teeter tottering–with a four year old who wants to be carried and an eight year old who isn’t sure of what is happening. Am I smiling because I’m having fun or freaking out?

I love this image b/c everyone is looking a different direction from the chaos around us.

Once our longtail was off and running, an Indian man introduced himself as our helper. He asked for our passports and kept them for the next 90 minutes of our journey. It was one of those frantic moments where you don’t know whether or not you should hand your passports over, but you don’t feel like you have much choice. So you do for better or worse.

We made our first stop at a Thai checkpoint. The checkpoint was built on stilts over the water, and the Indian man jumped off the longtail onto the rickety steps, ran up to the office, and did something inside. We were told to stay in the longtail and wait. After five minutes he came rushing out, yelling at our longtail driver, and then jumped on the boat. We were off again. Five minutes later we pass another Thai checkpoint that sits on a small island. The Indian man signals FOUR with his fingers, meaning the four of us, and they wave our boat on in approval.

And then it felt like the water itself got murky. We puttered our way into Burma’s border, and everything looked so dismal and depressed. There was no question from the frail condition of the houses on stilts, we were in a 3rd world country.

We pulled up to a Burma checkpoint that also stood on stilts. The Indian man went inside with our passports, and this five minutes of waiting felt like the longest of all. Burmese men dressed in nice clothes (not matching the country’s economic condition), leaned over the railing, looking down on us in our little longtail boat. I felt totally helpless in that moment. Brian said in almost a whisper without looking away from the men, “I’m not going to pull the camera out here. I get the feeling that it may not be safe.” And it was true. You had this sinking feeling that you were entering a country with few rules, a dictator who is cruel, and a depression over the people that is the exact opposite of Thai people.

However, after we were back in to our room I noticed that Brian did pull the camera out and got this shot of the Burmese checkpoint while trying to keep the camera hidden behind me. (sneaky-sneaky!) The man with the baseball cap was our Indian helper.

Once we had our approval from this checkpoint, we headed to the Burma pier. Chaos was in full swing on the pier. A Burmese man was yelling at us to get off the boat, to hurry because we were almost out of time. There was also a hundred or more people getting off a large boat, crowding, trying to push their way over the border. We climbed on to the pier, trying our best not to fall into the brown, murky water below.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw our Indian helper take off with our passports. Panic rose up in me, but then the focus came back to the kids and keeping us together. The Burmese man told us to get in front of the crowd and yelled at the Burmese people to move. Everything was so loud, so crowded, it was all we could do to not let go of each other’s hands and keep pushing to the front of the line. Once there, we were given entrance to Burma.

The custom’s office was an open aired room, built with dingy concrete walls that smelled of old urine. We were asked by a man for our passports. We fumbled through trying to explain that an Indian man had them and said he was helping us. They then asked for a crisp $20 bill ($40 total–but we can only pay in $20′s). Brian only had $23 on him. When he pulled out his $20 bill, they inspected it and said it was to dirty because there was a pin sized blue ink spot on the corner. Corruption was clearly at work here. They refused our $20 bill and demanded 2000 Baht which is more like $60 instead of $40. But you don’t exactly say “no”. All you know is that you need to get back into Thailand as fast as possible–by 6pm to be exact!

We were then asked if we wanted to buy any thing in Burma. If our friends had not prepared us for this question, we would of said “no thank you.” But Brian had me stay with the kids while two Burmese men took him down the street to buy something. As Brian crossed over a line of Burmese soldiers and lost sight of me and the kids, he remembered he still didn’t have his passport back.

The Indian man did come back with our passports and ended up being our saving grace through all the chaos. He knew the Burmese were going to want copies of our passports. We had no idea. All along he was off making copies.

With our Burmese stamps, a bottle of Burmese whiskey (Brian’s subconscious was obviously ready for a drink since he’s NEVER bought whiskey before! ), we got back onto the same longtail boat. My stomach remained in knots until after we passed the scary Burmese checkpoint for the second time. Same men sat above us, looking down with smug expressions on their faces. You could tell they felt powerful.

When we passed the Thai checkpoint, 20 minutes later, I wasn’t sure if they were Thai or Burmese. But when the soldiers were close enough to make eye contact with us, their faces broke into wide smiles and they yelled, “Sawadee Kob!” which means “Hello! Welcome!”

When the Thai immigration office stamped our VISAs, it was 5:50. Ten minutes to spare! A little to close for us in the future.

Oh…I took a deep breath. Brian looked at me and said, “That was CRAZY!” The kids seemed a little oblivious to the intensity we had just been in. But when we were in our hotel that night–exhausted emotionally and physically–the kids’ processing started.

Pascaline asked why we had been so serious when we went into Burma. “Both of you didn’t smile much, and you wanted us right next to you the whole time. I wasn’t sure if you were made at us. All I knew is you weren’t joking around.”

As we listened to Pascaline and Blaze’s questions and observations, Brian and I realized they had processed way more stress than it looked like from the outside. Before Blaze fell asleep, he asked us if we could do our VISA stamp somewhere else the next time.

“Absolutely,” we answered. “Absolutely.”

(As a disclaimer to this whole experience, I’m sharing what happened from our point of view and ours alone. I’m sure plenty of other people have done their border runs into Burma and not felt the stress we did. I think the combination of showing up late in the afternoon, having limited time, and then having two small children with us upped our intensity all around. But I have to be honest. I did not feel safe doing our border run here. And I wouldn’t advise any of my girlfriends who are traveling alone to do their border run here either. Just my two cents.)

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