Shompoo Cruise to Luang Prabang

The author of this post, looking pseudo-serious

Cruising down the Mekong River has been on my bucket list for a while. I didn’t know how, I didn’t know when, but I knew that one day I would get to sail down this glorious river. My opportunity came when I decided to take the slow boat form Huay Xai to Luang Prabang in Laos. The cruise would last two days, roughly 8-9 hours each day.

Usually when I romanticize something to such a degree I am setting myself up for disappointment. How could the Mekong possibly be as enchanting as I was envisioning it to be? After a boring cruise down the Irrawaddy River, where the scenery left much to be desired, the boat was cramped and overcrowded, and I slept three hours below deck to the obnoxious churning of the boat’s engine, my expectations for the “luxury” cruise on the Mekong were low.

Boy, was I in for a treat. The first thing that wowed me was the boat. From the outside, it doesn’t look much different from the other slow boats. It’s wooden and narrow, with a low roof that can be opened. However, the interior was fabulous. I especially loved the tables, which were the perfect height to work from. Never did I imagine I would be able to write on my laptop while cruising down the Mekong! There were also long padded seats, so I could lay down and take a nap (which I did). The boat looked like it could hold 20 people comfortably, but there were only 12 on my cruise. This was great because every group had an entire table to themselves, and there was plenty of room to move around and take pictures.

On the Shompoo Cruise, unlimited coffee, tea, and water are provided throughout the day, and one buffet lunch is included. Both days the food was incredible. Local ingredients and Lao flavors made these dishes extra special. I was also grateful that there were fewer people on the boat because that meant more food for me! 

Lunch Day 1

Lunch Day 2

The river was very calm and the boat did not sway at all. There was absolutely no risk of motion sickness on this boat, and I was surprised that I was not even aware of any hum from the engine. It was a quiet and comfortable journey.

By far the best thing about the cruise was the Mekong River itself. The scenery was absolutely stunning. Tall, rolling mountains boarded both sides of the river with views that would never tire the eyes.

While on the boat, it was important to me that I faced forward, towards the direction we were headed.  If I sat backwards, which I did for only a moment, I felt annoyingly trapped in the past. As though I was falling horizontally, without knowing when I would hit the bottom. Facing forward let me know I was going somewhere. Progress was being made. It brought the mountains to me, the view presented them like gifts before my eyes. But from behind they looked as if they were fleeing me. Escaping from my vision.

From above, so many textures of green could be seen in the wobbling edges of mountain peaks. Rich velvet green from the droopy willows. Knife green from the palm tree leaves, milky green from the bushes on the shore, and between then, in their folds and cavities, even deeper shades. Rays of light don’t shine straight down from the sky like beams, they bend and weave around rocks and shadow the uneven hemlines in the shorelines like ribbons.

With the price of the cruise a few short tours are included. We stopped in a Khmu village, a Lao Lao village, and the Pak Ov Caves. They were all brief but worthwhile sights.

I strongly recommend paying more for a luxury cruise on the Mekong, instead of taking the overcrowded slow boat. We we docked in Pakbeng for one night, I saw over 60 people step off a boat that was the size of the one I shared with 12 people. This may be your only chance to see the Mekong. See it in style.

Cruise from Mandalay to Bagan

Boarding the boat at 6:30 am

For our journey from Mandalay to Bagan, we decide to take a cruise down the Irrawaddy River. This seemed the best option when considering the alternatives of bus and train. We booked Malhika Crusies online and the company delivered our tickets to the hotel where we stayed in Mandalay.

Check in time began at 6:00 am, so that morning, before sunrise we took a taxi to the waterfront. Our cab driver did not know where to go and had to pull over and ask some strangers three times before we were dropped off at the correct pier. "There was no address for the pier, and when I got there I realized why. All along the street were docks for various cruise companies, but they were unmarked, and seemed to have been shoddily constructed to accommodate the recent surge in tourists.

We got on the boat just after 6:20, and sat on the upper deck outside while waiting to depart at 7:00 am. I took a few notes in my diary:

“Dawn on the river is haunting. Smokey clouds drape over the water like curtains hanging low in deep velvety folds. The water is the color of cloudy jade, the color of the sky – or perhaps, the sky is the color of the water. I love anything that changes, the sky, the sea, the seasons. Move me from the present, carry me forward forever. When the sky changes color so does the sea. Their color tune each other like strings in an orchestra, signaling harmony. Then the dawn pulls back its dark curtains, and releases a flash of light. Green mountains can be seen on the horizon, their tips smudged by the paintbrush of silvery clouds. Fisherman sit on rafts made of logs, with tents pitched up in the middle, only wide enough to fit one sleeping body. I wonder if this morning is unique, but I’ll never know because it is my only morning on the Irrawaddy River.

In Myanmar the rising and setting of the sun is something to behold. It’s a flashdance of color across the sky. You don’t realize it happened until it’s already over. When we walked home form the café yesterday at 5:00 pm the baby blue sky showed no signs of changing, but by 5:30 it was as dark as a sapphire. All this happened in thirty minutes. You have to grasp the moment quickly here, because it moves faster than you are used to. The sky changes color with every blink of the eyes. It’s not un untraceable movement, its obvious with each blink that you are seeing something new.”

The boat took off on schedule and slowly made its way down the river. We passed under lone bridges connecting two sides of the river with seemingly nothing on with end. We passed the golden peaks of temples in the distance, large Buddhas, fisherman, and small huts on the water. It rained on and off throughout the journey. When it did, the tourists left unshielded upper deck and came down to their seat inside the boat. Thankfully we had assigned seating, so there was no worrying about space.

I think every single person on the boat was reading a copy of Lonely Planet’s Guide to Burma in one language or another, an observation which depressed me.

The first few hours on board were magical, but soon the magic gave way to boredom. It was impossible to see outside the window in the rain. The hum of the engine started to wear on me. The boat ride was so smooth that it put me to sleep. I napped for three hours before waking again and transcribing some notes in my journal.

Though our departure had not been delayed, we arrived in Bagan one hour behind schedule, at 4:00 pm. Being Myanmar’s most coveted tourist attraction, I expected the dock at Bagan to be something other than what it was: a muddy bank.

I assumed that - what with Bagan being the country’s most reputable and popular tourist destination - we would be greeted by a grand wooden pier, perhaps a sign in English, “Welcome to Bagan,” and a fleet of taxis waiting to carry us to our hotels. Instead the ship docked on a seemingly arbitrary edge of the river. Men in longyis trudged through the red dirt and laid down a thin wooden plank between the boat and the mud puddle. Bamboo poles were erected on either side to help balance us and we put one foot in front of the other.

We were instantly approached for “transport.” I accepted the offer of the first man who approached us. I had to haggle hard to get the price down. This was surprising because up until this point, it had been easy to bargain with cab drivers in Yangon and Mandalay.   But in Bagan people seemed sincerely hurt and even offended at my attempts to haggle. I asked the price before we reached the car. 8,00 kyats? Too much. I wanted 5,000. He said he would go down to 7,000. I said 6,000 or nothing. I would ask other drivers. He agreed on 6,000. Then we followed him to what I thought would be our taxi, but instead he started loading our bags onto a horse pulling a wooden cart! This would be our “transport.” Perhaps I should have read the Lonely Planet guide…

We sat on the back of the cart, which leaned uncomfortably close to the ground. When the horse took off we had to hold onto the edges of the cart so hard my muscles ached at the end of the fifteen minute ride. We faced backwards, watching Bagan’s dirt roads unravel from the cart’s wheels below, as though the world was being created in front of our very eyes. We watched the scene on rewind. It was an study in the faces people make as they drive. We saw only two cars on the road. The vast majority of vehicles were mopeds, bicycles, and horse-drawn buggies like ours. None of the roads were paved, and they were all horribly muddy from the afternoon rain. I knew this because I could see the imprint of the horse’s hooves with each step. 

I don't know these people

Our ride into town

Journey to Oki

In 1332, the former Emperor Go-Daigo was exiled to the Oki Islands of Shimane, and managed to escape by laying in a cargo boat and covering himself with cuttlefish. He spent the entire long boat ride underneath the dried fish until finally reaching the shores of Izumo.
 
To this day, it is still a challenge getting on and off the Oki islands. You won’t have to cover yourself with cuttlefish, but you will need to ride at least 3 modes of public transportation, and the journey takes a full day if you are lucky.
 
I live in the same prefecture that contains the Oki Islands, a mere 200 km from my village, but this epic journey consisted of four modes of transportation and took over seven hours. Considering that fact, imagine the time and distance others have to travel from further places, like Tokyo or Sapporo.
 
My Itinerary:
Thursday, 4:35-5:20 Drive from house to the train station
Thursday 5:30-6:57 Oda  station to Matsue station by train
Friday 1:05-1:45  Matsue station to Sakaiminato by bus
Friday 2:25-5:05 Sakaiminato to Nishinoshima Island by ferry
Friday 5:20-5:27 Nishinoshima to Ama by chartered ferry
 

Step 1: the drive

The journey starts with a 40-minute drive from my village to a train station in a larger town. My village technically has a train station, but it was damaged in the heavy rain last August (just after I moved to Japan, lucky me). Even when the train was running, it only came five times a day, which is not often enough to be useful to anyone. So I drive 40 minutes to Oda city, where I board the train at Oda Station.

Step 2: the scenic train journey

At Oda Station, I take the San-in line to Matsue. There is also technically only one train and one line, so this isn’t very confusing at all. Driving to Matsue is also possible and takes just over two hours, but I prefer to take the train for added comfort.
The cheapest ticket is just over 1,100 yen one-way. The San-In lines operates a charming yet archaic train with booth seat that face each other. The railroad run alongside the ocean, through tunnels of green jungle.
 
After an hour and a help on the train, I arrive at Matsue Station. This bustling capital of 200,000 people couldn’t be more different than the mountain village of 3,000 people that I left behind. 

Step 3: the city bus

 From Matsue Station I board a bus to Sakaiminato pier.  If timed correctly, it is possible to board the bus soon after disembarking from the train, but in this case I decided to break the journey into two days. I spent the night at a hotel in Matsue and boarded the bus the next morning at 1:00 pm.
 
The ride to Sakaiminato takes 50 minutes. It is a pleasant journey through the suburbs of Matsue and into industrial areas with sprawling factories.

 
Saikaiminato is home to Kitaro Road, a street of bronze sculptures dedicated to the Japanese ghosts and monsters that appear in the classic comic GeGeGe No Kitaro. The creator of the comic, Shigeru Mizuki is from Sakaimiminato, a great source of pride for this obscure town. There are over one hundred sculptures on display along the sidewalk leading to Sakaiminato pier. I didn’t have time to see them all, but I took a few photographs.

After passing time around the port, boarding opens for the ship 10 minutes before departure. I was shocked by both the ship’s size and condition. It was an odd vessel of decaying glamour, a passage back to a time when televisions on ships were source of wonder. Since then few upgrades have been made. Instead of rows of seats there are large carpeted rooms where people crowd in groups and lay down to nap, their eyes covered with masks and blankets for their bodies. The windows of these rooms were all occupied by people taking up space in front of them. The air was still and dry. The old TVs were planning game shows, and it was horribly depressing. I escaped it by coming out to the deck, where I could rest in solitude, deaf to the obnoxious sound of chatting groups and the television. The sea was my companion out there. Perhaps because I could stare at its flat, unmoving horizon, I didn’t feel the movement of the ship, which is usually a source of sickness of me.

 

Step 4: the ship

 

As we departed music made by the ship’s deep engine humming accompanied the journey. The vessel tore into the ocean’s fleshy surface, sending white-rimmed waves sweeping to both sides of its knife-like edges. I was sitting on the floor of the ship’s green deck, shaded from the sun by one deck above me, kept cool by the sea’s steady winds, and the occasionally of ocean mist from below. I longed to sleep on the open deck, with the scent and taste of the ocean beside me, being gently sung to sleep by the grumbling belly sounds of the engine. The journey lasted two and a half hours.

 
I wrote in my diary,

“The Oki islands appear, as apparitions do, as dreams do, veiled in white mists, indistinguishable from afar. They are the phantoms of islands, the shadows of islands.

Primordial rocks spring out of the cerulean blue water, as through they had been born ancient. Moisture lingers in the air obscuring distance and colors. There is no border between the sky and sea. They meet somewhere in an infinite blurring of the horizon.　Every point of land was sharp, every angle acute, steep slopes rolls towards the bottomless cliffs. The rocks are in a frozen state of motion.

A lighthouse appears, the only structure on a green mound with brown rocky cliffs diving from frightfully steep heights into the ocean.”

 

Step 5: the inter-island ferry

We finally arrived at Nishinoshima port, the largest port in Dozen, but my journey was not complete. I still needed to board another ferry to Ama-cho. Thankfully, this has been chartered especially for participants in the Walk. After exiting Nishinoshima Port, I was guided to a small speed boat along with 15 other people, which sped through the lagoon water and brought us to Ama-cho in exactly seven minutes, thereby finally concluding my two-day journey to the Oki Islands.