Katha was the setting for one of George Orwell’s first novels, Burmese Days. A favorite read for backpackers in Myanmar, I made sure to grab my own copy before I got there. Bhamo was to the west and had a bamboo bridge that got washed away and rebuilt by villagers each year. Both towns don’t have anything in particular, but in a country with one backpacker path that was seriously beaten, it was exactly what we were looking for.

 

 

Getting There

The train from Mandalay to small town Nabar was around $6 for an upper class sleeper cabin, 12 hours. From Nabar to Katha the pickup taxi was $3.50 for each foreigner, but we were able to bargain it to $1.50, 1 hour.

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From Katha, we took an 8-hour boat along the Irrawaddy River to Bhamo, $9, departing at 9am.

 

 

Accommodation

In Katha we stayed by the river in Irrawaddy Guest House. It was simple, had no running water so we showered with by shoveling water and dumping it on ourselves, and had amazingly strong wifi but the sole man who knew the password never seemed to be around. $6 for a single room with fan, breakfast not included.

A popular option in Bhamo was Friendship Hotel which was full when we arrived so we found Paradise Hotel, $14 for a double room. It was awesome. Breakfast was buffet-style at the next door Paradise Cafe. No working wifi but working AC, which was more important.

 

 

Aimlessly Wander

Day 10

Train culture

The night before I met Harry in my Mandalay hostel after coming straight from Bagan. He told me he lived in Palestine for a couple months and directed a play within earshot of military gun violence. And today, he was taking a train up to Myitkyina, because he wants to understand the Kachin people and their struggles for independence.

I liked his style so I demanded to come.

Now, the only reason Harry wasn’t already on that train was because he had the munchies two nights ago, took a motorbike too fast down a hill, and shredded his left side up a bit. And using my desire to be a physician as his argument, I had to help replace his shoulder bandage, only I had none, so we taped him up with a female sanitary pad.

 

 

It was perfect if you ask me.

The train ride itself was quite miserable. Just to buy our seats, I waited at the booth window for 20 minutes while a line piled up behind me just so the staff could obtain tickets written in English. I was sweating profusely in my seat and the frozen water bottle a girl sold me against my bare back wasn’t doing enough to make things acceptable.

I woke from a terrible nap to live dragonflies flying into my face and perished ones at the bottom of my seat. Women balanced on their heads odd curries and snacks such as fried fish wrapped in newspaper or skewers of tiny birds.

Harry told me the men across from us were Myitkyina police and the “not dangerous” heavy wooden boxes at our feet were probably machine guns. When they fell asleep, they would prop their fat feet up onto my seat while I was in it, not hesitating to put them in between my legs.

I befriended Ashley from Australia and Alex from Germany. At midnight Alex turned 21. We ate samosas and sipped warm milk from a plastic bags (not recommended) in their cabin. They disclosed their itinerary and I decided to forget Harry and get off the train 8 hours before my intended stop.

 

Day 11

Katha

Judging from the looks of all the locals, I’d been deemed to be the Burmese tour guide for my white friends.

I loved watching sticky breakfast noodles being made. It was a little dash of this powder, that spice, and half a dozen drizzles of oils and sauces. Every bowl must taste unique. The same concept applied to tea or coffee, using different brews and condensed milks.

Using mandarin I got us to lots of fruit, and while we gorged, we toyed with the idea of jumping on a boat and taking it wherever it goes. Until we turned this idea into a reality.

The boat simply crossed the river. We shared beers and Burmese cigars and watched the birthday girl throw herself in the river.

 

 

Life was slow.

We were used to power outages. With no wifi and no aircon, I dragged half my bed to the hallway and knocked out by the window.

I woke when the power came back, returned to my room, and went back to sleep. For 16 hours.

 

Day 12

Katha → Bhamo

George Orwell scavenger hunt?

 Animal Farm and 1984 were required readings growing up, but of course the relevant one involving Asian history was never once mentioned in school. I enjoyed Burmese Days for it held my attention and was realistic in depicting how racism once defined everything. Everything.

 

 

We intuitively and haphazardly found the Tennis Club. Next a random man handed us the keys to the property containing “the deputy commissioner’s house.” On the wall was a city map, and we used this clue to find the house of the author himself, located back on the main road. A police officer now inhabited the building, but his family welcomed us in to have a look.

Ash and I made our speedboat just in time; Alex stayed back. Usually I am a fan of taking on local practices, but we withheld from chucking Styrofoam boxes into the Irrawaddy. Corn cobs and eggshells, yes. Water bottles and popcorn wrapping, no.

 

 

Day 13

Bhamo

Alla was the most openhearted teenage girl who came running out of her house, brought us inside, showed us everything, introduced us to everyone, gifted us a bag of peanuts, lent us straw hats, took us to a lychee garden, and then took us to a nat shrine area by the river. All of her little siblings and cousins came along, chewing their fingers or clinging to her arm.

 

 

So I guess getting lost ended up being in our favor.

We finally reached the bamboo bridge by cutting across a field of corn. Expecting to be back and napping by noon, it was already past one in the afternoon. No shade anywhere. Later we learned that the UV index was 11, the highest number on the scale.

Walking the half-kilometer bridge and back was fun. The bamboo was woven like a bacon weave and felt springy under my feet. It had a decent amount of human traffic, with many Burmans walking their scooters across it.

 

 

A stroke of luck brought a Toyota Hilux our way with a kind driver who took us all the way back.

Also, Bhamo has ATMs 🙂

 

 

Ashley is really funny. Check out his sister post here.

Craving more Myanmar? Red zone hitchhike struggles linked here.