Miki Meek for The New York Times
Taking a dip off the deck and from a rope at sunrise. More Photos »
I arrived on a chaotic pier in the border town of Ranong, Thailand, feeling as if I was about to throw up as I watched three-story fishing boats chug by. I had persuaded my two younger brothers and eight girlfriends to fly across the world and pool a large chunk of money so we could charter a live-aboard boat. The plan was to sail for six days through the Mergui Archipelago, a chain of 800 islands off Myanmar's coast that's become the holy grail of sublime, empty beaches.
It sounded simple enough. But I had major, gut-wrenching anxiety because this trip, which cost us almost $10,000 in cash and wired funds (not including the cost of the flights there) was so off the grid that it couldn't have been organized by a mainstream outfitter that would have sent a representative there an hour in advance, holding a piece of cardboard aloft with our names on it. I was on a pier waiting for a man I didn't know to take me on a boat to another boat that we would live on.
The feeling that you're winging it is only natural for this sort of journey. While the number of foreign travelers to mainland Myanmar has jumped nearly 30 percent over the last year, this mostly uninhabited region spread out over 250 miles in the Andaman Sea has remained on the fringe because of government restrictions and a lack of detailed travel information, even in the most recent guidebooks. Only tour boats with special permits and a government minder are allowed in.
After combing through online discussion boards, I chose one company based in Yangon called Moby Dick because its e-mails were thorough and prompt, and I could always reach it on Skype. Still, a constant loop of "What if no one picks us up? What if there isn't even a boat?" ran in my head until a middle-age Burmese man in a ball cap and blue plaid shorts walked up and shook my hand. He introduced himself as our guide, Thaingar.
We walked to the end of the pier and got into a couple of wooden longboats waiting on the Pakchan River, a natural border between Thailand and Myanmar, that would take us to our live-aboard. As we waited for a mini-traffic jam of goods, families and construction workers commuting between the two countries to clear, a monk stepped into our boat and pulled a cellphone from the folds of his orange robe. He snapped a picture of us, then wrote down his phone number and said to call if we needed anything. I decided to take this as an auspicious omen for what still felt like an unknown trip.
AS WE ENTERED the port of Kawthaung, the southernmost tip of Myanmar and the main jumping-off point to the Mergui Archipelago, the silhouette of our liveaboard, a Burmese-style junk boat, came into view. It was set against a mash-up of wooden houses on stilts, decrepit buildings with names like Honey Bear Hotel and gold stupas peeking out of jagged, green hills. I had been expecting a pretty bare-bones setup, but the boat was actually nice. A hundred feet long, it had a fresh coat of green paint, teak lounge chairs shaded by a white canopy, and cozy, open-air sleeping cabins. Myanmar's flag, decorated with a white star, waved from the mast.
With our ship in sight, we still had an entry process ahead of us. The archipelago officially opened to tourists in 1997, but the government tightly monitors who travels in because of military operations on a handful of off-limit islands. Tour boat companies must submit the names of passengers to the country's capital, Naypyidaw, several weeks before departing, and can travel only to approved areas. Still, Thaingar had to collect our passports and take them — along with a $40 travel visa fee and a $140 entry fee each — to the immigration office in Kawthaung. When he returned about an hour later, it was with the news that immigration was holding on to five of my friends' passports until we finished the trip and returned to Kawthaung. On the upside, immigration did not send a minder to join our trip because their office had run out of them that day.
So we proceeded, unaccompanied, heading northwest into the inky blue Andaman Sea. We cracked open and passed around cold, green cans of Myanmar Lager Beer. I squeezed between my brothers, Josh and Jeremy, near the bow where the captain had placed white mums, rice grains and a bowl of ripe fruit, offerings for a safe journey.
Anda sedang membaca artikel tentang
Explorer: Setting Sail Among Myanmar’s Islands of Mystery — Explorer
Dengan url
https://travelwisatawan.blogspot.com/2013/03/explorer-setting-sail-among-myanmaras_18.html
Anda boleh menyebar luaskannya atau mengcopy paste-nya
Explorer: Setting Sail Among Myanmar’s Islands of Mystery — Explorer
namun jangan lupa untuk meletakkan link
Explorer: Setting Sail Among Myanmar’s Islands of Mystery — Explorer
sebagai sumbernya
0 komentar:
Posting Komentar