story: customs and the battery pack.

during my first trip to burma, i dropped my camera on some concrete and cracked the camera housing. as a result, the battery compartment sits loosely and the battery doesn’t always connect. the camera is out of warranty and i don’t think there are many options for getting it fixed. honestly, i’m probably going to have to replace the camera. i don’t want to spend that much money, so i came up with a solution: use my battery pack.

it was a simple, good idea. i emailed my friend in korea who is holding some gear for me. he agreed to send the battery pack via dhl to burma, where i could pick it up. a mutual friend in burma would receive the pack, hold it for me, and i could collect it upon my arrival.

and thus, a problem arose. the battery pack was valued at $60 (actually it’s worth $150, but that’s irrelevant). burma’s customs (ie government) said that any item over $50 requires an import licence. this ridiculous rule is accompanied by the rule that any items that aren’t permitted will be automatically confiscated, rather than being returned to sender, in accordance with international laws … i guess when your government is a dictatorship and you’re under economic sanctions, you don’t really have to care about anything else.

after a lot of wrangling, arguing, cajoling, talking, emailing and begging, dhl agreed to try and help me get the battery case. i was blaming dhl for the problem (since they didn’t warn us that this would happen) and eventually they got me to fill out some forms, which they took to customs. they convinced customs to release the battery pack and i collected it (after paying $12 for “fees”).

i was glad to get the battery pack, but really annoyed at how this could happen.

that evening i had dinner with u myo aung, the friend who’d been trying to help me collect the battery pack. i had also agreed to meet the koreans for beers on the balcony (to celebrate new years). however, i fell asleep and missed new years in burma. damnit!

day 307 – new years day - i went to the indian embassy and submitted my visa application. then i faxed the documents required by dhl. i walked around town, had some ice cream and returned to my hotel. i bought a bus ticket to mandalay, then spent a few hours drinking beer on the balcony, lying in a hammock, reading my zusak book.

later, i walked around the markets and bought a pair of cheap sunglasses. i had noodles and sugar cane juce for dinner. when i got back to the hotel, dhl called and told me that customs had released my package.

day 308 – i had a big breakfast and walked to the dhl office to pick up my battery pack. i walked around the flight agencies to figure out an itinerary for getting to india. i also went to the train station to get prices for trains from mandalay.

i packed, checked out, and got a taxi to the bus station (which is a long way out of town, for some stupid reason). i had dinner, chatted with the locals (who rarely see foreigners) and got the bus to mandalay.

the trip was really uncomfortable. it’s the middle of winter and they insisted on using the air conditioning on the bus … at full blast. the music and shitty burmese dramas were also playing at full blast on the tv. i was freezing cold and at a break stop i convinced the driver to turn off the a/c.

day 309 – the bus was still cold and i managed to borrow a blanket. i finally got some sleep and arrived in mandalay early in the morning. i got on the back of a bike for the cold trip into town, found my hotel, checked in, curled up in the warm blankets and got some more sleep.

i must have been tired, and i know i was on the verge of getting sick, since i slept all day. i had a hot shower and returned to bed, sleeping all night.

day 310 – i woke up feeling good. i had breakfast and walked around the early morning market. i bought two longyes and a long sleeved shirt. i had some coffee and went to the train station to inquire about tickets. it turns out that i can only by tickets one day in advance, so i had to return later.

i bought some razors, soap, shampoo and organised a ride to amapura (ubein bridge). arriving at amapura i hired a boat, walked across the bridge, checked out the little temple on the other side, and hit the water to get my sunset shots. the sunset was awesome and i got a bundle of good photos.

after dusk i returned to the banks of the lake and bought a tshirt. i also discovered that my driver was drunk and didn’t want to return to mandalay. i paid him less than agreed, but still enough to keep him satisfied. i got on a horse cart to the main road and rode in a pick up truck to town. it was a long ride and i was a little annoyed at my driver. but i wasn’t too bothered, and returning to town i had a beer with dinner, then went to bed.

i spent 5 hours in the business lounge before making my way to the gate. with 30 minutes before boarding i ambled out of the lounge and towards my gate. little did i know that the central wing of the terminal was a kilometre long. it took me nearly 15 minutes to walk past the hundreds of stores. there were very few travelators and it seems that there’s no quicker way to get there. when i arrived at the entrance for gates E1 – E10 i was greeted with a massive line up of people who were going through a security clearance. i hadn’t left the airport, so a second security clearance was a complete waste of time. my flight was in 15 minutes and there was no way i would make it.

with 10 minutes to go, i made the decision to abandon the line and talk to a woman who was working there. i told her my flight was leaving and she let me jump the queue. i went through the security check and ran down the wing with my belt and bags in my hands. it was exactly 7.10 when i thrust my boarding pass to the stewardess. she looked at it and said “wrong gate”. i had to run back 5 gates to the correct boarding area. fuck!

so, i ran. i ran all the way down the correct boarding gate. i burst up to the stewardess, smiling but completely out of breath. she calmly took my ticket and waved me on. i stopped and stared at her.

“shouldn’t we be departing? it’s 7.12″
“no sir,”  she said casually. “boarding time is 7.10. flight time is 7.45″

“oh.” was all i managed to get out as i walked to the waiting area to be greeted by hundreds of other passengers also waiting to board the plane.

still out of breath, i kicked myself for mixing up the time, but was deeply relieved to have not missed my flight. 

when i arrived in delhi it was nearly midnight and really warm. i grabbed my bags and headed for the entrance. i booked my hotel and was expecting an airport pickup. at the entrance, i browsed through the signs but couldn’t find my name. walking past, i was immediately attacked by taxi drivers and offers of hotels and rides. i avoided them and sat down to gather my thoughts.

i had no phone number or any way to contact the hotel. i looked again at all the men holding signs. none held a sign with my name. i sat down again and prepared to make a decision: i’d check the boards again and if my name wasn’t there, i’d get a taxi to the hotel … and hope i didn’t get ripped off. 

i walked along the line again and noticed a man who wasn’t there before. he held a sign with my name on it. he’d been running late and had just arrived … relieved, we headed out to the car and i got to the hotel in one piece.

day 2 – sunday – slight jetlag woke me up at 4am and i had difficulty sleeping. when i finally ventured out i realised that most of the stores and stalls in my area were shut. it was sunday and things weren’t getting underway in a hurry. 

i wandered around for a little while, bought some essentials for my hotel room (cheap hotel – no toilet paper and no towel) and went back for lunch.

it was after lunch that i realised the cricket was on – india vs new zealand, and the test between australia and south africa. ah, the beauty of living in a cricket-loving country. rather than venture out, i decided to take the day to rest and get used to being in india. i ordered some beer and watched the cricket all afternoon. then i had a nap and got dinner. after dinner i watched the aussies play and went back to sleep … a day wasted, but also a day well spent.

day 3 – monday – i woke up full of energy and with the intention of seeing a few of india’s more grand sights, only to discover that red fort and all museums are closed on mondays. fuck! well, i thought, i can see other stuff and do the fort on tuesday morning, before heading to agra.

i got into a rickshaw and headed out. the rickshaw driver took me not where i wanted to go – an ‘official’ travel agency. it wasn’t official and i didn’t want to go to a travel agent. the agency told me there were no busses or trains to agra. i also needed a multi-pass for all tourist sights around delhi. it all sounded fishy so i told him i’d think on it. i left and walked down towards connaught place, which is the hub of new delhi.

on the way i got acosted again by a man who wanted to take me to another ‘official’ tourist agency. this time they told me, again, that there’d be no busses or trains to agra. i should get a private car and a driver, which would cost nearly $500. i realised this was wrong and told him i’d think on it and get a coffee. i also said i needed a tourist guidebook, which i’d buy next door. 

as i stepped outside there was an asian girl talking to the same guy who grabbed me. he was talking to her and trying to lead her somewhere. without thinking about it, i interrupted and told her to leave with me. we headed off and walked back to the main street. she thanked me for helping her out, since i said i had just gone through the same bullshit spiel. 

in connaught place we got some coffee and talked. the world is full of ironies. my new friend’s name is kawi. she’s third generation japanese and her grandparents are korean. she’s traveling on a korean passport but doesn’t speak any korean. as it turns out, we are both heading to agra tomorrow, so we both wanted to get tickets. after the coffee, we walked into another tourist agency which we thought was genuinely official. it wasn’t and he too suggested we get a car and driver. 

this time we were getting hot and tired of the constant bullshit and lies from indian hawkers on the streets. we decided to go directly to the train station and see the tourist office (which we knew was legit). just outside we were stopped by another guy who said he worked for the train station. he told us that the tourist office only sold tickets for immediate departure, not for advance tickets. i wasn’t sure, but i was starting to believe what he said. so i was prepared to head out to the other tourist office mentioned in lonely planet. however kawi was being stubborn. she was determined to go upstairs and see for herself. so i agreed and we told the guy we’d look for ourselves. he was quite angry and said that japanese are arrogant.

however, it turns out that he was another tout. we had no trouble getting our tickets to agra tomorrow. we headed downstairs and i was in a fiery mood. we went back to the area where we first saw him. i was hoping to find him again and give him a mouthful of bad language. we didn’t see him, so we walked across to the main bazaar and back to our hotels.

kawi and i agreed to meet in the morning and take the train together to mathura, the birthplace of krishna. she plans to stay there a few days, but i’ll probably only stay the night and head on to agra.

i spent the afternoon wandering around the main mosque and mahatma ghandi’s tomb (even though the museum was shut). tomorrow i’ll check out, meet kawi and we’ll catch the train to mathura.