It would be a day of small travel and unexpected destinations. My One was under the weather with a head cold, and not up for any marathon train or bus rides. We opted for a short jump to Meiktila, the closest real town-town from our base in Thazi. Ah, the luxury of not being in a hurry.

In Myanmar, as in much of SE Asia, the best short-distance mode of travel is the pick-up ‘bus.’ These open sided pick-ups or utility vehicles are called Songthaew in Thailand. They have hard wooden benches down either side of the bed, and a steel canopy above for luggage, extra passengers, or both. It is not a comfy form of transport, but it’s cheap. The other thing to know is that the Songthaew are often the only form of transportation, especially away from larger cities and towns. I never did figure out the Burmese name for these contraptions. Folks just call them buses.

If you are in a seriously slow mood, there are always the horse carts. They may look like a romantic way to experience another era, but the horse carts are not here for tourists; not in Thazi anyway. The carts are pulled by small, scrawny horses. They are the same small breed of horse that pulls the carriages in Nakhon Lampang, Thailand. Local folks use them for short rides, and for hauling goods to the busy market. It’s hotter-than-hot on the main street and the horses work hard. The drivers are not shy about applying a sharp flick of their goad to get the horses moving. My best advice to sensitive folks would be that the horse carts are prettier at a distance than they are up close.

It was a travel morning, so we lashed up the backpacks, hit the local tea-shop for brekkie, then wandered over to the Songthaew stop. Our morning journey was about twenty-five kilometers and the fare about seventy-five cents per person. There is no real schedule for the pickups. They leave when they are full. It is important to note that full is a relative term. Full, in First-World terms, means that every place on the ass-busting wooden bench is full. This definition of ‘Full’ does really apply in this part of the world.

A pickup bus is full when the benches are smashed full, cheek pressed to cheek, there are men hanging off the back of the truck, and eight small boys are perched atop the luggage on the overhead canopy. Even this state of fullness does not really mean completely full. The Songthaew will still stop alongside the road if someone raises their hand, palm facing down. Then more lumpy rice sacks full of goods will be tossed up, and somehow another body will squeeze in, defying the very laws of physics. What is more amazing to me is how people deal with it. Even when they get a bit grumpy about the conditions, folks usually laugh, smile, or roll their eyes.

Thus we came to Meiktila. There were no other Farrang crammed into the little pickup, and no Farrang on the streets of Meiktila. This is a busy town, a transportation hub, a provincial market town, and a university town. There are three universities scattered around the lakes that surround Meiktila. What Meiktila does not have is important tourist sights. Sure, there is the huge floating monastery shaped like a goose, but that’s about it. Tourists do not usually stop here.

Meiktila reminds me of some of the favorite provincial capitals in Thailand, the type of small city that the Lonely Planet might give a pass. Therein lies at least the potential for hidden beauty and quiet travel. Like the aforementioned Nakhon Lampang, or Chiang Rai, Meiktila is a vibrant little city with a real life of its own. The town is not dependent on tourist trade, which makes it a good spot to experience how real life happens in Myanmar. It is a place for walkabout, without destination or expectation. This is a town where you will be noticed. Farrang on the street are a novelty. Open bus-loads of university kids will smile and wave at you. If you wave back, they will go crazy, laughing and giggling and shouting.

Phaung Daw U Paya is the big photo op in Meiktila. The huge floating barge is shaped like karaweik, a mythical bird. The original is a famous floating palace in Yangon. This is an iconic image in Myanmar. It is emblazoned on shop signs in every town in the land, on beer labels, and on Myanmar tea.

For my moto friends scattered across the globe: It is good to know you are not alone.

There is a specific style of colonial-era architecture in Meiktila that I have never seen before. Scattered amongst the newer shophouses are late colonial façades built in an almost art nouveau style. They are modest structures, only one or two storeys tall, stained by the black mold that are slowly eating them away. They stand as a decaying monument to Meiktila’s past.

The history of this town has not always been a happy one. This was the site of fierce fighting during World War Two. The Burmese theater is often call the Forgotten War, overshadowed by the more famous battles in North Africa, Europe, and the Pacific. But for soldiers of many different lands, this was a very real, and very bloody battlefield. Meiktila was a strategic transport town, a key to the 1944 British-led offensive to recapture Burma. The town was heavily defended by Japanese forces, and the fighting was brutal and bloody.

Modern Meiktila has another sad legacy. In 2013, tension between local Buddhist and Muslims reached a critical mass, fueled in large part by animosity against the Rohingya people. A small spark ignited rioting and mob violence. When it was over, more than forty people were dead and many more injured. At least 9,000 residents were displaced by the violence. As I mentioned in an earlier blog post, the issue of displaced Rohingya is an ongoing problem for the Myanmar government.

One of the distinct customs of folks in Myanmar is the wearing of thankkha, an earthen paste that is applied to the cheeks, nose, and forehead. Like the purple-stained teeth of the betel chewers, it becomes a familiar sight.

The paste is worn over the face for cooling and for protection from the sun. The custom can vary from a child smeared with the stuff, to artful designs on the faces of stylish women. It is primarily a custom for women and children, both boys and girls. It is rarer for men to wear the thankkha. Many families make the paste at home, or buy it from a local producer in their village or town. It is very much a product of the region.

One might ask the question: So what did you do there? The answer would be: Nothing much in the sense of great adventure. Viewed through the close-up lens, we did a great deal. We wandered the sprawling market, ducked into tea-shops when it rained. The local folks hang out down by the lake shore, and we joined them. People greeted us and we greeted them. Meiktila offered us a good view into what normal everyday life is like in Myanmar.

And, of course, we ate. This town offered up the best Myanmar curry so far. The particular curry pictured above is a fish curry, complete with all of the ubiquitous side dishes.

Meiktila proved to be our pit-stop, a jog away from the more traveled ways. To be sure, the tourist trail in Myanmar is quiet this time of year, and always quiet compared to the well-worn routes in Thailand.

From here we would travel to Bagan, Temple Central, perhaps the most famous destination in Myanmar. Night and day, small travel and large, all of it makes up the journey. I was glad for a chance at the small travel.

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