If you cross the border to Thailand at Tachileik, you not only reach a new country, but a different level of civilization. About like last year's transfer from Laos to China - here poverty, huts, bad roads, there showy buildings, wide streets, modern cars. The difference here is not quite as strong, but still noticeable.
So first of all astonishment, then amazement, disbeliev - but then I am already got used to it.
Thailand is different
Are there really such streets, without holes, ditches and gutters? Proper sidewalks not packed by all kinds of vehicles? No litter (or almost none) at the roadside? Yesterday, in a poor, underdeveloped country, today, separated by a few meters of border, in a tidy country. Expensive cars, stores bursting with offers, self-confident people.
A lot of smiling people here, but the smile has already become something different, something business-like, maybe even put-on. Here you can see Burma's future, in maybe twenty years, but now it's not there yet, now, after just one night, I already miss it, miss the people as they are today and not in twenty years. Because then the magic will be gone, replaced by what can now be seen in Thailand. As they say - there's no such thing as a free lunch.
It also applies to the development of civilizations.
In any case, here in Thailand a motorway is a motorway, and not just a dirt road separated in two directions.
On the way to the mountains
That's also my driver's opinion and therefore accelerates. For a change I have my own chauffeur today to drive me to Mae Salong in the mountains . The first few 30 kilometres we race across the country, a pure pleasure, until we turn to a road, still good and wide at the beginning, but becoming narrower and more winding as soon as we gain altitude.
The chauffeur, apparently not really used to mountain roads, occasionally gives an outraged snort, especially when he reaches his limits around the 180 degree curves. He breathes a sigh of relief when we reach Mae Salong and my hotel My Place Mae Salong. I wish him good luck for the trip home.
Little Yunnan
There is a lot to say about this town (although I admittedly had no idea of its existence until recently). This is Little Yunnan, so to speak an exclave of the adjacent Chinese province of Yunnan. Here a short historical explanation.
Mae Salong (or Santikhiri) is closely linked to the infamous Golden Triangle opium trade, but its historical significance came from the Chinese National Army (part of the Kuomintang government), which resisted capitulation after defeating the communists 1949. 12'000 soldiers fled from Yunnan first to Burma and finally, after Taiwan and the US had given up their initial support, landed in northern Thailand, where they settled in a remote mountain valley. Et voilà - Mae Salong.
Chinese Legacies
The ethnic origin can be felt on every corner. Everywhere Chinese characters, the menu cards, thank God, equipped with pictures, because the rest looks nice, but doesn't tell me anything, because my Mandarin is a bit rusty.
That the area is famous for its tea can be seen everywhere: tea bushes on all mountain slopes in different stages of growth, nursed and cared for by, no wonder, women in their beautiful costumes (who as usual do the hard work while the masters of creation have other things to do) or after picking laid out to dry (can also be the sidewalk).
English? No way!
And yes, another comparable, if not necessarily advantageous characteristic, reminds me of Yunnan: nobody speaks English. Even the young girl in my hotel, who is supposed to greet the guests, doesn't understand English at all. Well, what the hell ...
I'm in the My Place with a high rating at the Agoda hotel platform . Well, the room assigned to me does not quite correspond, to say the least, to the rating in Agoda, and so I switch to another, better, brighter one, of course for an appropriate surcharge. The famous business acumen of the Chinese - noticeable here too.
But the room is absolute first-class. The walls are painted, but the subjects remain unclear. The view over the surrounding hills and valleys is stunning. Finally a room that deserves its name.
I'm too old for that!
The idea of snow, Advent wreath and Christmas goodies is not really inspiring me yet, but time is running out.
Perhaps a trip to the surrounding countryside, slow and leisurely as always. There is apparently a tomb of the commanding general Yuan, who went down in history as the first warlord of the opium trade. For a few minutes I think of renting a motorcycle, but the various forums on the Internet advise seriously against it. In the event of an accident, whether at fault or not, always, ALWAYS, the foreigner pays. Well, how can I say, caution is the mother of china pots and besides - I'm too old for that shit.
A first-class spectacle
From the terrace my room offers a first class panoramic view over the surrounding hills and mountains. And it is exactly this spectacle that I am offered in the morning when I open my eyes without having to move a single muscle. A truly royal morning.
A few clouds have been hanging motionless in the blue sky for quite some time, as if they had been waiting for me. They form a welcome contrast to the hills in different shades of green in the morning sun. I could watch forever as the colours slowly change, losing the milky tone of the morning.
Crowsing Cocks
If the girl at the reception spoke English a little better, I might have an almost existential question for her: Why do the roosters crow all night long? In the beginning I think of dogs that are inciting each other to ever newer and louder competitions, but no, it's the cocks. Not at dawn, as is usual, no, long after midnight. But the question will probably remain open, and I will never know what the critters have to tell each other ...
Yunnan Churros
In contrast to the view, the breakfast is less royal. It consists of hot water from a vending machine into which the - one suspects it - coffee mix is stirred. Honestly, I can't smell the stuff anymore. It is so sweet that the seals in the mouth dance a waltz.
Along with the coffee, I get an oily-looking, indefinable pastry, apparently deep-fried, reminiscent of the Spanish churros (which, however, I have the best memories of). That, dear readers, is all, it's breakfast. That's all there is. Well, Yunnan churros it is. You can definitely get satisfied with them, too.
Concrete Mixing Machines
At a construction site the work is done diligently. A new restaurant is being built (the village wants to establish itself as a future tourist hotspot), the parking lot in front of the restaurant has to be built.
Numerous female workers are busily rushing back and forth between the car park that is being built and the concrete mixing machine. Heavy looking buckets of sand and gravel are brought in, either on their heads or in their hands, while the boss takes care of the machine.
No money, no photos!
Anybody remembers the concrete mixing machines? The wonderful creaking, grinding, cracking noise they make? It is this round thing with an opening on each side that turns and mixes the contents. Someone (the boss!) pours sand or gravel first, then cement, then water, all in the right combination and composition.
As children we admired these things, today they are completely gone, somewhere in the abyss of the past, and if we are unlucky we will never see or hear them again. That's how it is with a lot of things, and at some point, perhaps long after they have disappeared, you only realize that they are no longer there.
A little further up in the village, things are already busy in the morning. And in view of the numerous tourists moving through the stalls and rummaging through the souvenirs, I have to revise my initial doubts about the significance of Mae Salong. A mother, presenting her children in best pose and asking for money for taking pictures, fits quite well into the picture. No money, no photos! Then just not today, dear lady ...
Monstrosities
In the case of the general's tomb, the builders have once again dug deep into the drawer of sterile monstrosities. One gets the impression that the adjectives ugly, ostentatious and banal must have been a central guideline in the planning. How wonderfully bizarre was Ho Chi Min's mausoleum the February before last, unmatched in its weirdness. In my mind I still see the white pointed nose in the glaring light ...
If everything works out tomorrow, I'll see the Mekong again by evening at the latest. I am already looking forward …
Matching Song: ††† (Crosses) - The Beginning of the End
And here the journey continues ...
