A dark, rainy day. It feels like I should be comfortably nestled in a library, sitting cross-legged on the floor, immersed in a book. A day that reminds me of childhood. But I’m nowhere near a library—I’m in a mini-van that’s speeding around the curved roads between Northern Thailand’s lush mountains.

I’m on my way back from Myanmar from a very brief but legally necessary trip if I am to remain in the great Kingdom of Thailand for more than 30 days. Exiting and re-entering Thailand via land allowed me to extend my visa-exemption by a 14 days. Tachileik, a border town in Myanmar, sounded like the simplest and most interesting place to go to from Chiang Mai, so yesterday I called a company that does visa runs, scheduling one for today.

Absolutely nothing noteworthy happened on the way to Myanmar. I sat in the front of the mini-van which was packed with foreigners sitting uncomfortably in rigid seats that formed perfect right angles. Personally, I like being uncomfortable so the eight hours (four there, four back) I spent imitating the letter L with my body was a treat. I even lucked out because the Euroboy behind spent the first half of the trip whistling loudly through a bendy straw. I was perplexed by this strange hobby until I turned around and realized he was just an asshole listening to techno through cheap headphones.

Four hours later. Mae Sai is the northern-most city in Thailand and it is separated from Tachileik by a bridge. Our mini-van stopped near the base of the bridge and the driver told us to meet at the 7-11 down the street in an hour. I stepped off the bus, looked at my watch and casually looked around until I spotted a guy who looked like he knew what he was doing…at which point I started following him.

A line of people stretched out from the immigration office in front of us. It reminded me of lines for amusement park rides and I felt the same kind of anticipation. I watched as my dreadlocked leader leaned in smugly against the counter and made embarrassing small-talk, as if he had been here a thousand times and was the godfather of crossing the Mae Sai/Tachileik border. This guy is the guy who is immune to being ashamed of making the same joke to the same group of people who have never thought it was funny. When it was my turn I smiled nervously, wondering if my awkwardness was detectable or if the behavior of all foreigners was a mystery to Thais. My passport was stamped as having exited Thailand and I was about to cross the bridge between Thailand and Myanmar.

From Thailand the bridge is lined with Thai flags until its midpoint, where the flag of Myanmar takes over. Even though I wasn’t yet in Myanmar once I made it to the where the Myanmar flags started, I stopped and smiled, thinking that I’ve never had any interest or reason in my life to go to Myanmar, but that I was thrilled to be going.

Across the bridge I entered a building with two desks where a man inspected my passport and asked for 10 USD. I only had a 20 dollar bill and knew he wouldn’t have change despite taking $10 from multiple people in front of me so I gave him 500 baht (about $16) instead. He took the money and put my passport on top of a huge stack of passports. I was instructed to the other desk where my photo was taken and I was given a 14-day entry permit to the Union of Myanmar! I felt invigorated.

Stepping out of the office I saw a frenzied mess of people before me. I admired the chaotic energy, something I could relate to, and then walked a bit farther toward some stairs that let down to a mass of tents. Immediately I was approached by friendly characters offering tuk-tuk tours and hotels. I shook them off and headed down the stairs to see what kind of 100% authentic goods were in the tents below. I had no desire to buy anything but I like admiring the lack of detail put in shitty Asian knock-offs. A man with a basket full of items followed me down the stairs. He kept offering me cigarettes; I told him cigarettes were unhealthy but he ignored me, eventually trailing off. Another peddler approached, waving Viagra in my face, also offering me cigarettes and then “sexy movie.” I laughed and looked at him, saying no thanks. He either didn’t understand, was being persistent or just wanted his picture taken, because he kept following me and lifting the various products about three inches in front of my eyes. I didn’t want any trace chemicals of fake Viagra to touch my body so I said “no” emphatically and walked away.

I bought a bottle of water, wondering whether it was genuine or fake water, also wondering how much time I had left. Thirty five minutes. Conservative Brian wanted me to go back, ruminating on how many things could go wrong while crossing borders. Adventurous Brian said “who gives a fuck”, that I’d figure it out if anything went wrong…besides, who knows when I’d next be in this country I never wanted to go to in the first place. Adventurous Brian won out and I kept going, exploring a few less crowded blocks before heading back.

I passed through Myanmar immigration quickly, traded the temporary entry permit for my passport, smiled and took a picture of the guy at the window. Crossing the bridge between the two countries I felt very pensive, still very excited, also strangely accomplished.

In the Thai immigration line I saw a girl with a Chinese passport and struck up a conversation with her. She said she was from Shanghai until I told her I had lived in Hangzhou, at which point she changed her answer and said she was from Hangzhou but she had thought I wouldn’t know where that was. She had been standing in lines and filling out paperwork for the past hour while I was roaming around—she didn’t even cross over the bridge to Myanmar—she just got a Thai exit stamp and then immediately turned around to get a re-entry stamp. She said she had to do all the extra paperwork because she had a Chinese passport. This was yet another moment where I paused and appreciated the advantages of being a US citizen.

We passed through immigration but not before I re-opened a deep cut on my hand, causing blood to splatter on my shirt and the ground. The source of this wound will be revealed in another post. I quickly wrapped multiple tissues around my hand and shoved it in my pocket because it probably looks suspicious to cross borders with your hand dripping blood. As well, I didn’t want to scare off my new friend. We made it through, quickly found a restroom and some snacks and then got back on the mini-van with two minutes to spare.

We got on together but, I guess by convention, sat in our original seats, which weren’t next to each other. I should’ve insisted we sit by each other but I didn’t, using up my one allowed personal mistake for the year. As with the trip there, the trip back was basically uneventful. I jammed some 90s alternative rock and fell asleep, waking up occasionally and jotting down notes. Though my trip was short and I didn’t experience the “real” Myanmar, I was thankful for the opportunity to see something new.