Hmmm! A schedule. I should know by now setting a schedule is something that just doesn't work in Thailand.

I head off through Chiang Rai following the signs for Highway One. In the centre of town, I'm accelerating away from traffic lights when the throttle on the bike suddenly goes sloppy and the bike dies to a crawl. Fortunately there is a shopping complex nearby and I'm able to find someone who can direct me to a nearby bike shop. I start the bike, pull out the choke to give it some revs, and paddling madly like Fred Flintstone to generate some forward motion, drop it into gear. In this manner I putt along for the next couple of blocks to the bike shop, where the staff are very quick to attend to the necessary repairs.

The whole stop, counting the time it takes to find the shop, has cost me an hour off my schedule but I am eventually on my way again and arrive in Mae Sai in relatively good time. I make one stop on the way to find a drink (I carry water but it is horribly warm after a few hours on the bike) and find a jewellery shop which, in order to lure in the tourists, gives away free coffee, tea, and water. I opt for a drink of water, have a few in fact, and then see a couple of the staff come over to the water dispenser, take a drink, and then return their glasses to the same tray they take them from. Hmmm! Oh, well… they look healthy enough. On to Mae Sai…..

Now that I know the drill, dealing with the customs and immigration people at Mae Sai should be very easy if I do it again, but as a rookie border runner it involves a lot of going to the wrong place and having to go back to somewhere else etc. (On more recent trips I found the procedure had been streamlined and was very simple indeed.) Eventually, though, I'm through with a day pass to Myanmar and intent on playing the tourist and doing a bit of shopping.

The markets are full of shops selling DVDs and CDs, mostly copies from China, cheap no brand electronic goods, and a multitude of clothing and food shops. Touts wander about with trays of cigarettes. Others wave porn VCDs, of every variety, wrapped in lurid cover art, in front of my eyes. Children and old ladies beg, gazing in your face beseechingly, or clinging to your clothing whilst demanding 'Give me ten baht!' On the bridge which spans the border women vend huge river crabs from bulging baskets. The river below writhes brown and dirty, promising that the crabs will bring illness with every bite.

Tourists pass back and forth across the border with little fuss however the Thais and Burmese are not so lucky. Their respective governments are hard at work trying to stamp out the drug trade which has made the golden triangle so notorious and consequently their citizens are thoroughly searched as they cross. A friend of mine tells of observing three smugglers as they are captured. They are marched, white faced and shaking, to the Thai side of the border, where their photographs are taken, before being marched back to Myanmar where the procedure is repeated. Shortly thereafter the sound of gunfire indicates that their execution is complete.