Special Memories in Hsipaw

February 2016

Today started out a little drizzly, so we weren't sure we would be able to do the 'last bike ride' we had planned, using Google Earth, to a small village not far from Hsipaw.  It looked like there might be a small road or path - maybe a motorcycle track - along a river.  Fortunately the sun came out around 10:30, so we set off, with our water bottles, a cucumber, 2 oranges and some peanuts. We found the 'road' with no problem.  It quickly degenerated into a track, and then into a narrow elevated path between fields of newly planted corn and long since harvested rice.  

By this time we were walking the bikes.  We forded a couple of small streams, me taking the opportunity to give my sandals a wash, and Doug somehow managing to keep his dry.  But then the paths ran out, and we decided we were going to have to cross the river.  It looked like there was a reasonable dirt road on the other side. And there was, for a few hundred yards, which we rode, with buoyed spirits. But it too petered out to first a track, and then a path.  

We were passing a farmer and his son who asked where we were going.  We pointed to the village, which we could see, and the farmer pointed to our bikes, shook his head, and said 'no'.  We smiled in agreement - we knew we'd have to walk the bikes along some of the track.  He was still shaking his head as we left him, likely thinking what idiots these foreigners are.  It wasn't long before our between-the-fields path again petered out, and we decided we were going to have to cross over several fields - mostly of newly planted corn - to get to where we knew there was a road - somewhere.  

Just then we heard one of the home-made trucks that Hsipaw is famous for.  We've been seeing them, and guys making them, all over town.  We've renamed Hsipaw the "Detroit of Burma" - and frequently stopped to admire them, their cabs, and their motors...

Anyway we looked in the direction of the sound, which is rather like a lawn-mower (22 HP, diesel, one cylinder engine from China, no muffler), and saw the truck in the not too far distance, and coming towards us.  But it stopped well short of us as we were at this point literally in the fields.  And this, we figured, was the farmer (it was).  Anyway he waved and called out 'where going?'  We called back the name of the town and pointed.  Like the previous farmer, he called back 'no' and pointed across the fields to the road, wherever it was (we couldn't actually see it).  And then he, and his wife, started walking our way.  

They were a young couple, out to tend their fields.  They greeted us with big albeit somewhat quizzical smiles.  We again communicated through sign language where we were trying to go, and they again communicated that it wasn't possible to get there, with our bikes, on the paths we were on - we'd have to carry the bikes to the road.  The young fellow pointed to a truck (and said 'see truck?') which was parked several fields (and deep irrigation canals) away.  Then he made a gesture of picking up a bike and carrying it.  'Yes, yes, okay' we said (and gestured) back.  He pointed to the new corn plants, gently bending one with his foot, and shaking his head: the message was clear - please don't step on the corn.  We gestured back, 'no, no, we won't step on the corn'.

We were ready to go when he suggested that he would carry my bike for me.  Although I declined his offer, it was a half-hearted 'no thanks' as the notion of carrying my bike across several fields and ditches was just a tad daunting.  Without further hesitation he hoisted my bike up over his shoulder like it was made of some light-weight plastic, not the heavy metal that it was actually made of, and started off down the narrow path.  I followed as nimbly as I could.  Doug brought up the rear, half-carrying and half-walking his bike, both of us being super careful not to trod on the corn starts.  

Doug and I had gotten about half-way to the parked truck by the time the young fellow had deposited my bike there and was on his way back. When he got to us I tried to give him 5000 kyat (around $5), but he would have none of it.  Instead he grabbed Doug's bike, hoisted it up over his shoulders, and started carrying it to the parked truck. We picked our way, now through fields of ready to harvest cabbage and garlic, and got there about the same time he lowered Doug's bike to the ground.  

He pointed out the road, which was less than 30 feet away, and confirmed that it was the road to Hsipaw, and to the village we wanted to get to.  Now Doug tried to give him the 5000 kyats (we though he might be more inclined to accept it from a man than a woman) but again he would have none of it, and actually chased after me to give it back.  By way of explanation for his refusal, he made a heart shape with his hands and said 'I heart'.  'I heart'.  'I HEART!'  And with that he turned and started back across the fields.  And the only record I have of him is three photos - two of him carrying our bikes across the fields, and one of his back as he left us there by the road.  

The road was a reasonable good dirt and rock track, and we got to the village a short time later.  Rather than taking that road back, we took the paved road, at least for a while.  But our intrepid explorer imperatives won out again as we determinedly sought out, and found, a track that we had tried twice before to find, that again went across farmers' fields, and more importantly avoided the main road and all the massive trucks that barrel down it, and landed us not too far from our hotel 'Lily the Home'.  We only had to ford two little streams - Doug actually rode through them; I washed my sandals yet again.

Before we left we had told 'Lily' (whose name is not Lily of course but Khin Sone, if we are referring to what her father called her, and Aye Khin, if we are referring to what her mother called her - confusing eh?), that if we weren't back by dinner she should send someone out on a motorcycle to rescue us.  Lily is half-Shan, half-Chinese (Chinese father, Shan mother), and the most warm-hearted, lovely woman I have met in a long long time.  And she is another one of the reasons why Hsipaw has been so special for us.  Lily greets us with the warmest smile every time she sees us, and loves to laugh and joke with us.  And every second day she sees to it that her staff places fresh flowers in a little vase in our room.  We're going to miss Lily!

Hsipaw has been special in many other ways.  It's been cooler than other places (a little higher elevation), and the town is small, friendly, and interesting.  We've enjoyed walking and biking around, visiting nearby Shan villages and just being in the quiet countryside.  The river is lovely; the farmers' fields are beautiful.  Our hotel is more comfortable than anywhere we've stayed; and the meals the hotel chef has made have been some of the best we've had so far on this trip.  

We travel for places, and people, and experiences like this. The warmth and generosity of the young farmer and 'Lily' are special gifts, priceless memories, and reminders of what is best in this crazy world, and what we need to cherish and nurture in ourselves and others.