It says tourist: Trek from Namshan to Hsipaw

12.4.12

Trek from Namshan to Hsipaw



“Bomber terrorist's elevator plan backfires, so he rigs a bomb to a LA city bus. The stipulation is: once armed, the bus must stay above 50 mph to keep from exploding. Also if LAPD Officer tries to unload any passengers off, bomber will detonate it.” Source: IMDb.

Even when presented in its simplest form, the plot for the movie Speed has blockbuster written all over it. It reads like a syllogism: A causes B, B causes C, C equals kickass. The producers were so convinced of the script's genius that they didn't bother to cast an actor for the leading role. Instead, they chose Keanu Reeves.  

Compared to other Hollywood action flicks, the basic premise of Speed isn't that far-fetched. In a city like Los Angeles, if you have a hunky police officer by your side, you could probably drive a city bus for an hour or so at a speed above 50 mph and live to tell the tale. The cast's survival chance would be much slimmer in a country like Myanmar, where roads are muddy patches that keep potholes together. If a Burmese director were to do a remake, that bus would explode before the charismatic terrorist (since Dennis Hopper is dead, the role would probably go to Liev Schreiber) has a chance to make his first jeering phone call.

For instance, getting from Hsipaw to Namshan took us about six hours by bus. I don't know the exact distance we traveled, but it can't have been more than fourty miles. Annoying? Not really! When you're huddled up in a vehicle that dates from colonial times, you want the driver to keep a leisurely pace.

In this part of Shan state the roads look like brown filling sandwiched between two slices of hill. When the filling spills over the edge, a new road is cut at a different angle. Spills are generally caused by rain, but since the weather was magnificent that day, we could sit back and enjoy the bumpy ride.

Strangers on a bus

Speed teaches us that public transport can be exciting, while movies like Strangers on a train or Aliens demonstrate that long journeys are an opportunity to get acquainted with your fellow travelers. So we did.

From New Zealand there was Tim, a fifty-something forestry manager who had worked in Nigeria and survived it. Warren, an Australian surveyor, and his South-African girlfriend Marieke, a geologist by trade, were another young couple. Finally, we met a mysterious Canadian fellow who shall remain nameless, but bore a striking resemblance to pop musician Daniel Lanois.

When we finally arrived in Namshan, the sun was beginning to set. We gave word to the guesthouse manager that we were looking for a guide and went out for dinner. Oddly enough, we could choose from several restaurants in this charming whistle-stop set on the top of a hill. Equally surprising was the fact that the roads – all four of them – were paved. We even encountered a beatnik-style village drunk. I guess they don't just hand out the title of substate capital to any old town!

The inhabitants of Tawngpeng, as this area of Shan state is called, generally struck us as being more wealthy and independent than the average Burmese. Certainly the area is not more peaceful than other regions. Government troops have been battling with ethnic armies in these hills for decades. Perhaps some of the wealth can be attributed to the opium trade in the Golden triangle. Maybe it's just pride that keeps the village streets clean. Either way, it's a lovely place to spend some time.

Mr. Moomoo

Returning from our dinner, we found a young man waiting at our guesthouse. His name was Mr. Moomoo, he was a baptist priest, and he was willing to guide us back to Hsipaw. Our enthusiasm grew as he told us that we would be following a route that had been closed to tourists for over seven months because of insurgent activity. Tim, Warren and Marieke would also be joining, while our Canadian friend opted for another guide.

Now, I could bore you with descriptions of the many quaint Palaung villages we saw, the  lovely people who let us sleep in their traditional wooden houses, the banyan trees that stretched their branches in an imperial fashion. I could go on and on about cool monks on motorcycles, falcons that catch their prey in midair or delicious meals made from nothing but mustard, rice and peanuts. At least I could tell you about the time an exhausted Hannelore threatened to hit me with a walking stick after an encouraging slap on the buttocks.

But I won't do that. Instead, I'll leave you with a piece of advice: go to your video store and rent Speed. It's amazing!

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