Burmese Bandits

Burmese Bandits: 100cc scooter for two, sexy helmets, wrap scarves around our faces, add a pair of shades.

North on the superhighway out of Chiang Rai lies a windy mountain road that runs into Myanmar. Military check points become more frequent the closer the border becomes. The air is cold today, the further from Chiang Rai we go, the colder it becomes. It splits through the fabric of our jackets and paints our knuckles white and blue. After an hour Riley has had enough and we switch driver and passenger. It is much colder as the driver. No windbreak, but my fleece is a bit thicker. The hills line either side of the road as we ride through high altitude valleys. A hot spring. We stop and rest. The springs are more of trash can size holes in the ground with hot water bubbling up. Faint smell of sulfur. A mother and three children squat next to one of the springs boiling eggs in the steaming water. We climb, doubled up, back on our scooter and zoom off. Our engine lets out it’s high pitch roar as we pass a loaded down truck. The roads become windier, steeper, and narrower. Vegetation is thick and green here. Another hour passes. We’re riding through the clouds. The air is moist and cold. We’re riding above the clouds. It’s warmed up some, the sun hitting our hidden faces. Another stop. It’s beautiful. Rolling hill tops with a hazy background. We walk around. There’s crops that have been harvested up here, what they are we do not know. Some slash and burn areas and tilled dirt. Back on the scooters. We’re pushing the 100cc’s in first gear up a steep road. It roars in excitement, so do we! Some time later we end up in a small mountain town that has founded itself off tea. A random tourist stop with not too many tourists. Lunch. End up in a tea stall sampling many different types. Saffron tea. We purchase some, along with some others. Goat jerky. I get some. Back on the scooters braving some even windier roads. A tea plantation. Rows of tea plants that share the appearance of a vineyard covering a hillside. Downshifting our scooter grumbles to a stop. We get off and walk around the rows. The plants are knee to thigh high, a couple feet wide with green leaves. The road again. We hit pockets of warm air as we pass under canopies that form a tunnel. The sun is starting to drop. Highland rice patties butting up to the base of mountains. A small river runs between them and our road. We walk the mud beams for a while, stretch our knees and soak it in. It’s a long haul back to Chiang Rai. We arrive as the last light flees from the sky. The evening food market is as busy as an ant mound. We weave our scooter through the crowd. Stop at this stall, Riley hops off and grabs some fish. I keep the motor going, he hops back on. We stop at that stall, he grabs some fresh squeezed orange juice, mouth watering. A couple stalls more, we have a salad, chicken, some strange bread thing cooked in a pressure cooker with pasta sauce topped with veggies and pineapple. Dinner. We stop and get some beer as well. The beer here isn’t really beer. It’s a watered down, bad tasting version of what we call beer. (You might not share my opinion if you like Bud Light, Natural Ice or Milwaukee’s Best. Those who know Riley and I are quite aware that we’re a tad snobbish when it comes to beer, wine and the culinary realm.) Back at our hostel we unroll a couple banana leaves on the floor that we use as plates. We sit cross-legged on either side of the leaves with a wooden skewer in hand as our utensil. Our food is strategically placed on the leaves so we don’t have to cross skewers to stab bites. It’s all fresh and cooked exactly how anyone would want it. Full of flavor and moisture. Over 100 miles on a scooter followed by a great dinner. We sit on our balcony and watch the activity in the small neon lit street behind us. Time to take a breath, what a day.