I climb inside the colorfully painted stagecoach. They are used by the locals as the main way to travel around this scenic hill town 42 miles from Mandalay, Myanmar. But, I do not have anywhere I need to go. I just want to ride in a stagecoach in Pyin Oo Lwin, Myanmar.The horses hoofs clatter on the cobblestone streets as my driver takes me on a ride to nowhere!

I had two choices of how to get from the big city of Mandalay to the small town of Pyin Oo Lwin . I could go by train or bus. I decided on bus, but it turned out to be a minivan. 

Before getting out of Mandalay, the driver stopped and bought something at a roadside stand. I was sitting in the passenger seat next to him. He put the small package on the console of the van and told me to help myself. The plastic bag contained small pieces of something wrapped in banana leaves. I figured the leaves contained rice or some sweet fruit. (They wrap everything in the banana leaves in the Asian countries).

I had just finished breakfast before the van picked me up, though, so I thanked the driver for the offer but told him I just ate and maybe later during the trip I would have some.

I watched him take one of the pieces, unwrap it and put it in his mouth. Then he chewed it for a long time. Then -- my brain kicked into gear! Maybe this is the betel nut they chew that turns the mouth and teeth red, before they spit it on the streets! 

I ran into that in the hill towns in the Philippines (called moma) . Betel Nut chewing is even more popular here in Myanmar than in the Philippines. All over the streets and sidewalks big globs have been spit. It makes a large, red looking, GROSS spot where ever it lands!

As I chatted with the driver, I saw the red juice in his mouth and on his teeth. Sure enough, it was the betel nuts (or moma). 

I never tried any of the disgusting stuff. However, maybe I should have. I attempt trying new things that are popular in the countries I visit. But -- sometimes I just react at the moment to the way I feel about it (instead of going ahead and trying it for a one-time experience). 

This would have been my chance to see what it tastes like, without paying my good money for it myself! With red teeth and gums I would fit right in with the locals. No one would care. But, I missed the opportunity. 

The driver drove like a mad-man . He squeezed around traffic even if it meant going on the dirt shoulder of the road. Going to Pyin Oo Lwin is up in the mountains, so the two-lane roads are switchbacks. At times, if he could, he would cut the corners of the switchbacks. He woud drive on the dirt shoulders, in order to get in front of a couple of other vehicles making the curves.

They drive on the right side of the road here, but the steering wheels are on the right side! That means the driver is sitting on the shoulder-side of the road and the passenger seat is near the middle of the road, next to the oncoming traffic. So, lucky me, I was in the seat just inches from the oncoming traffic!

I don't know if he drove like this normally, or if the betel nut he was chewing has some effect on his driving. Someone told me the stuff actually does give you a little bit of a buzz, so maybe he was hyped up some from chewing! On the other hand, maybe if I had chewed some I wouldn't have been bothered by his driving!

Whatever the reason, this was the most unnerving trip I have taken yet ....anywhere! I was really glad when the trip ended about an hour or so later. I should have gone by train!
 
I found my hotel on the Main Street and checked in. It turned out all the bathrooms here had the squat toilet. No western style toilets anywhere! I am glad I will only stay overnight. There is no wi-fi. They say they have it -- but it is so weak, it will not even load a web page. So -- no internet! The power goes on and off all day and night, just randomly. You don't know when it is going to go off and when it will be back on.

After putting my things in the room, I went out to do my walk around town. It's a neat little town. Very quaint, sort of. 

This colonial hill station of Pyin Oo Lwin was a summer retreat for the British rulers, when they occupied the country. The minivan driver on the way up leaned toward me with his betel nut breath and told me the British built the road.Those British sure have been around the world! Almost every country I go to has at one time been colonized by the British (or French)!

There are a lot of British colonial houses and churches here, many have been turned into schools and other public buildings . Many of the bungalows and villas that the British built are now occupied by rich Indians or Chinese.

I see a large street market with all the fruits and meats you see in other Asian street markets. I walk down the small street covered with bamboo mats.The people place their dry goods on the mats to sell. There are small bamboo stalls set up for the fruits and meats. They buy garlic and dried fish and rice and fruit. 

As I walk through the market, watching the locals buy their foods for the day, people just stare at me. There is a lot of staring in Myanmar! People in other countries will look at a white foreign person and maybe smile or wave or say hello. But, in Myanmar, they just stare. 

Whether you are walking down the street, on a train or bus, they will just stare without moving their eyes off you. if I am on a train or sitting somewhere and being stared at, I look away for a few minutes, and when I look back, they are still staring . Sometimes they will even turn around in their seats and stare. 

I guess they are really interested in the face and white skin and don't think of staring as being rude. It's uncomfortable being stared at, but I don't think they feel they are being rude. The country has just opened up to foreigne tourists, so it is odd for them to see a person like me with white skin, brown hair and blue eyes! There are very few foreigners visiting the country, even now.
 
Once I leave the market area, I walk down the street and see a big clock tower. I discover it is called The Purcell Tower. It is in the heart of the little town. It was made in 1934 by a British company. It seems to be the center point of this little place.

Everywhere on the streets I see colorfully painted, wooden, STAGECOACHES! The Cinderella-style carriages are pulled by small horses. The locals use these to travel around town, shopping, going to work, or where ever they need to go . I find out they are called Gharries, imported from India and serve as taxis for the local people.

I eat some lunch in mid-afternoon, sitting in a small open-air cafe watching the foot traffic pass by. I stop in some small sidewalk stores. There are NO PRICES marked on ANYTHING! It's not marked on the shelves either! Maybe they look at you at the register and just decide what to charge you?

Late in the afternoon I stop to talk to a stagecoach driver. "How much to ride around the block in the stagecoach?" He wants equal to $5 for a tour around the town. I have already walked all over the town, I don't need a tour, I just want to ride the stagecoach around the block. I offer $2 if he will take me for a ride around the block and back. He will not. I know the locals ride to their places of work or home for a lot less than $5. Some of the locals get greedy when they see a foreigner and really overcharge for their goods or services . I do not mind paying a fair amount, but resent being overcharged! I say good-by and walk away.

10-15 minutes later I am walking down the street and the stagecoach passes me. I recognize the driver and wave to him. It is the one that tried to rip me off earlier! There is no one in his coach. He could have made a couple of dollars off me instead of driving around empty. Greed!

I stop and chat with an older driver. Actually, it was a man hanging out with the driver. He spoke English -- the driver did not. So, the man interpreted for me as I told him what I wanted. I asked how much for a short ride up and down the street. He says $1.
 
He took me on a much longer ride than I expected. When the ride was over I asked how much and the Englsih speaking man told me he said $1. I gave him $2 (equal in his money) and also tipped the interpreter. 

At 5 A.M. a monk, on a loudspeaker, began chanting something. I don't know if it was a wedding or funeral or prayers for the day. But, it happens in all the Buddhist countries. They use loud speakers to broadcast all over the neighborhood. 

Today I will go to Hsipaw, by train this time. But, as it turns out, -- this train ride rivals the minivan ride up the mountain yesterday!

NEXT: "The Train to Hsipaw!"