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To save $75 we went to Burma for the day. It was an interesting experience, but the real purpose was to save money. Thailand gives automatic visas at entry, but only for 30 days. They can be extended once for 1900 baht, which is $50. Jan's brother Dave knows this system well. For years he has gone from his home in Phayao, northern Thailand, north to the Burmese border to make a quick crossing. Now we were doing the same, except going south.

Given that our ultimate destination was Malaysia and then Indonesia, we decided to attempt a crossing at Ranong, 600 km south of Bangkok. We'd looked into continuing northwest from Kanchanaburi and crossing at the Three Pagodas Pass area into Burma but that border seemed to be permanently closed, at least for our purposes. And we saw plenty of advertisements in the Bangkok Post and The Nation for air-conditioned "visa-runs" to Cambodia. They were very reasonably priced, 2000 Baht, and included all transport, guides, people to wait in line, and a lunch. But they went the wrong direction (we didn't want to stay in Cambodia and we weren't particularly interested in extending our Bangkok stay) and actually cost more than the 1900 Baht the government wanted.

We got up in the morning and wondered, now exactly how do you get to Burma from here? We'd been told that just outside the Ranong Garden Hotel, our abode of the moment, there was a blue songtheaw (pickup converted to an open-sided bus) that would take us near the Thai Immigration Office (TIO). So after an early breakfast we crossed the six lane highway, placed ourselves in what we thought was the right place, and waited. Indeed, in just a few moments a blue songtheaw came along. We said "immigration office" (in English!) to the driver, he nodded (yes?), and we climbed on, hoping that he was taking us to the right place and that we'd know where to get off. When sitting on one of the two benches that make up the songtheaw (literally "two rows") it's very hard to look out past the awnings and get one's bearings. Fifteen minutes later (or so) the driver turned off the road that we were on and that we thought would take us to the Immigration Office. Fortunately after a detour around a big block he was back on the main road and at the appropriate place told us to get off and walk down a hundred meters.

It may even have been less, but in any case we quickly found the TIO. Then we had another worry: the front door was obviously locked. Coming closer didn't change that evaluation. What we had worried about was apparently true: like all Burmese borders, this one was closed at times. But wait! That's not all! We realized that there were more buildings at the back of the small compound. One was open and it was the right place.

We were so early that we were the first customers and we got quick and very pleasant service. (In the afternoon we came back and found the place crowded with foreigners and we had to wait in line.) The official there was very friendly; he knew exactly what we wanted and assured us that we'd have no trouble in Burma or coming back. It didn't phase him one bit that Gerry had two passports: his old one with the original Thai visa and his new one with no entries at all. The Thai official handled all of the paperwork for canceling the old visa and making sure the Burmese did their work in the new passport and that the new Thai visa was in the new passport.

The Thai official then told us how to walk down to the docks. We left and walked along the main boulevard, here about four lanes, and except for the signs being in Thai, pretty much like you would find in any developed country. As we walked we started to question things again because the walk was longer than expected; we didn't see any signs of water or the road ending. Of course we shouldn't have worried. As in all such situations, a young fellow soon joined us and offered us a boat to Burma. We had to be in the right place.

About 800 m from the TIO we reached a sign directing us along a narrow lane to the pier and boats to Burma. We could have turned there, but it seemed wiser to wait for a drivable road rather than this alley. When we did get to such a place the young Thai was still with us. We asked his price; he wanted 150 Baht and we offered the 50 baht each that Lonely Planet says is the going rate. He accepted and led us another 100 m to his boat. To get there we crossed through a large waterfront shed and then climbed down a 3 m ladder to the water and the boat.

The boat was a "long-tail", which refers to how it is powered. The boat itself is like a triple-sized canoe; wide enough for two people to sit abreast and maybe 8 m long. At the end sits a pivot; on this rests the power driver of the boat: an engine connected to a very long propeller shaft with a 30 cm diameter propeller on the end. Shaft and propeller are the long-tail.

When we'd been in Kanchanaburi we'd had plenty of chances to ride a long-tail. But then it would have been at inflated tourists prices and done nothing more than gone up and down the river. We like our transportation to be for something. Now we wanted to get off to Burma. Instead we sat and sat. We guessed that the boatman was trying to get other passengers. The boat would go when he made a profit. After 15-20 minutes another passenger did come — but she was Thai (or maybe Burmese) and wasn't at all likely to be paying the rate we were. Eventually the boat did leave with just the three of us; had the boatman worried that if he didn't go he'd lose us as passengers? It certainly was on our mind.

Now we were off to Burma. But where was Burma? We had an extremely poor map and the Lonely Planet description did not explain the distances involved. Was it just across the river (if that was a river out there)? I.e as close as crossing from Westminster to Lambeth? Or was it farther along the water, i.e. like going across the Hudson at Jersey City? We set off and found neither of these guesses was right. The boat sped along and we got some water spray in our faces and had plenty of time to worry about the wisdom of carrying our computers along in our backpacks. If the boat capsized could we stand having to replace them again?

Ranong Town sits at the most easterly point of what we'll call Ranong Bay. That is about 5 km from the bay mouth. We're not sure from where we departed, but it was certainly on the south side of the bay and probably 2-3 km from the mouth. Our boat took us past a few small islands and then to a point on the north side of the mouth of the bay. There the boat stopped and we went into a very small Thai immigration office. They checked our papers — for what we don't know — and then we were off again.

Next the boat travelled almost due west and crossed the mouth of a 40-km long estuary that marks the border between Burma and Thailand in this area. The crossing was about 6 km; about four times the width of the Hudson at Manhattan. This is a bit less than the trip the Manhattan to Staten Island ferry makes. On the big New York boat one is far above everything and unless paying attention hardly aware of moving. The more we got out into the estuary the more the swells rose and the more we worried about our lives, let alone our computers. But well before we were half-way across we were used to it and not really worried. And at least Gerry thought that if the worst did happen our swimming pool exercises would be our ace-in-the-hole.

It wasn't until we were really almost at Kawthawng that we were really sure that we were nearly to our destination. As we came closer and closer to the Burmese port city we could see a golden pagoda on the hill above it. To our right we saw a large passenger boat approaching at perhaps double our speed; later we confirmed our guess that it was the Andaman Club private boat taking upper-bracket (i.e. above backpacker) people in comfort (and security!) to see Burma and perhaps renew their visas.

Five hundred meters off-shore our long-tail diverted to the left; to a large-ish cruiser that we'd spied from a distance. To our surprise we tied up in front and were directed inside. It was the BIO - Burmese Immigration Office. Everything went more smoothly there than we had any right to expect. We knew that we had to pay $5 each or 600 baht; the first being the smaller we elected to pay it. We'd come with a US $20 and were only momentarily set back when we were told it was too dirty. Only pristine money accepted! Well, in our backpack we not only had several thousand dollars worth of computers (which were never inquired about) but several clean (or clean enough) $10 bills. One was accepted and we were as good as officially in Burma.

On shore Kawthawng proved to be a slum adjacent to a wasteland. Immediately adjacent to the pier it wasn't too dirty but just 100 m farther the degradation began pretty quickly. We saw what looked like an interesting multi-tiered Thai-like gold temple but it was an office and restaurant in masquerade. We considered the restaurant, we think the best in town, but found that the prices were about as in Thailand. We concluded that back in Ranong we could have more comfort and a better selection. We decided to explore: we'd go up the hill to the temple compound that was behind the golden stupa we'd seen while asea. On the way up we came to a small Chinese style temple and found it pleasing enough; but for us it was nothing knew — just a pleasant reminder of many such places we'd seen in China and Vietnam.

We managed to find our way up the hill through a series of broken paths that alternately took us through semi-mud and between hill-side homes of the sort that Thais might live in before they take the first or second rung up the economic ladder. At the top of the hill we went into the temple and were immediately latched onto by a fellow who wanted to be our guide. He didn't know enough English to say that. While Gerry coddled him Jan independently looked around. Then Gerry said goodbye — gave him the brush off — and looked around himself. We went to the far end, nearest to the sea, and when we came back we encounted a tour group. They were the ones from the Andaman Club boat. It seems they were all Thais and consequently not out to renew their visas.

We walked down the hill an alternate way. We passed the road leading to the "interior" with a golden statue of a modern miltary man placed in the center of traffic circle. Here the place didn't seem so slummy. Then it was down the hill through a buddhist monastery, also poor, but neat. We passed a large group of teen-age school kids, obviously leaving the school and going home. Dressed in blue uniforms with white shirts they were like kids anywere: some in groups of 4-5 and some alone. Back in town we confirmed our decision to skip lunch until back in Ranong.

We didn't have to wait but a few moments before somebody was touting his boat to us. We accepted at the same 50B and were led to a bench to wait as he ran off. It seemed possible that he had gone to rent a boat, now that he had customers. Or maybe not. Anyway the way back was familiar: sign out of Burma at the cruiser tied up off shore; cross the choppy waters of the estuary; pass the small Thai immigration office; tie up at the Ranong bay docks; and walk to the TIO.

The one difference is that as we left Burma that it started to rain. We considered the dangers of being in the middle during a storm and disregarded them, probably because the boatman didn't evidence any fear and because we were lazy. If we'd been wise we would have gotten off. As it was going back we got wet, though not soaked.