So today we will see if the game with the border crossing works or if I have to pull plan B out of the drawer.
Burmese confusions
But let's start from scratch. The taxi. This is again one of the typical Burmese stories, which are so illogical that you might laugh. So - question shortly after arrival in Nyaungshwe: Is there a shared taxi to the airport in Heho? There is, but not today. Costs would be 18'000 Kyats.
Follow-up question two days later: How about a shared taxi for Saturday? No interested parties. Shortly before I leave the shop, I ask for the price of a taxi for me alone. 15'000 Kyats.
Wait, so I'm paying more for a shared taxi than if I was traveling alone? For understandable reasons, I don't draw her attention to the mathematical error, perhaps it's not one at all, but simply follows the sometimes a bit weird logic of this country.
So then the last kilometers across the landscape that has become so dear to me and say goodbye in my mind. It will be tough.
Airfield in the Pampas
The airfield in Heho is reminiscent of numerous others, somewhere in the middle of nowhere, a small head office building, very casual security checks, shabby, dirty chairs in the waiting areas, a kind of kiosk (where probably nothing is ever sold), bored employees who have nothing to do. And, of course, a runway, the same for takeoffs and landings, though the risk of getting in each other's way is close to zero.
But there is still a lot going on. On average, a plane arrives every half hour, spits out passengers and luggage, puts in new ones, and then takes off again. Funnily enough, every passenger gets a sticker put on his chest at check-in so that he can be clearly identified and assigned to the right flight.
Perhaps this ought to be introduced in Zurich Kloten as well. I can imagine the annoyed looks on the faces of the business people in their expensive Armani suits when the employees put a sticker on their chests.
Old propeller machines
They are all old to very old propeller aircraft flying to these tiny airfields. You can actually see their age. I remember last year's flight from Luang Prabang to Hanoi, the plane that looked as if it came directly from the Vietnam War (and the passengers also strongly reminded of old US Marines stranded in Southeast Asia after the war). But the old flying machines are mostly (!) quite reliable, however, not necessarily suitable for people with fear of flying.
Memories of Nazca (Peru)
But whenever I stand in front of one of the remnants of long ago flight epochs, another memory emerges as surely as the Amen in church.
It's November again in the year 1981 (the same trip as by train from Chile to La Paz), this time I'm in Peru, more precisely in Nazca, the place that has helped Erich von Däniken to fame and glory and a lot of money.
Remember: in Nazca there are these famous scribble patterns or Nazca Lines that can be found in the desert around the village of Nazca on an area of 500 km2. There are straight lines up to 20 km long, but also triangles or trapezoids or even pictures of people and animal shapes (birds, monkeys, whales), which, however, and this is the decisive factor, can only be recognized as such from a great altitude .
What prompted our Erich von Däniken to his now famous hypothesis that extraterrestrial beings must have played a role (which is scientifically largely refuted today, but Erich will not care much).
An old Cessna
Anyway, so I am standing at the entrance to the desert knowing that there is nothing to see from the ground. Someone pulls me by the sleeve and points to a rather run-down plane, a Cessna if I remember correctly, and makes me an offer I can't refuse. A solid hour of flying over the drawings for 25$?
Who can resist that, so I get in with a somewhat queasy feeling. There are two seats in the front, one for the pilot, one for me, and a back seat with a little boy crouching on it.
Transparent Floor
Already the start goes down in the annals: the plane is light and agile and takes off after a few meters, and we are airbound. I can see it well because there are holes under my feet, or let's put it this way: the floor is pretty transparent. The pilot's remark to move my feet back a bit, because I'm standing on the pitch elevator (or something like that), can't disturb my calm for the time being, because otherwise the flight makes a pretty good impression.
The engine stops
At least until the engine stops. We are now right above the now easily recognizable shapes, they are like an unreal dream in their size and perfection, but what about the engine? As lightly and silently as a bird, we are now flying in circles, which would be very beautiful in itself, but what about the engine?
No problem, says the pilot and laughs about my embarrassed face, it's better this way to take good pictures. So my hands are shaking with the camera, and admittedly, I've taken better pictures.
Nosedive
So after an hour we return to the airfield, but since the pilot wants to present me with a goodie as a perfect passenger, he circles over the village, asks me about my hotel and aims at it in a dive and pulls the plane up at the last moment. His laughter follows me into my dreams, and yes, my legs feel a bit rubbery when I get off ...
Border Myanmar Thailand
It's not that bad today, the machine is full as always, and again I'm the only foreigner. The machine roars off with the crazy sound of the propellers, takes off and makes a long turn north. But of course it doesn't go directly to Tachileik, but first to Lashio in the north, where an intermediate stop is planned.
And then, after a good two and a half hours, we land in Tachileik, not far from the Golden Triangle, once a central transshipment point for the poppy trade, but also the last stop in Burma. The airfield (an image of Heho) is a little outside the city, a last tuk-tuk to the border. Now it's getting exciting, but what can I say, all the excitement for nothing.
Thailand, promised country
As if there was nothing more normal (because it really is!), the official checks my passport, stamps it and says goodbye. That's it. Everything in the travel guides is yesterday's dishwater, people, but I can empathize with the authors: in this country everything is changing at such a horrendous pace that no travel guide has even the slightest chance of being up to date ...
And yes, I am in Thailand, promised land ...
P.S. Matching Song: Lee Clayton - Border Song
And here the journey continues ...
