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Playing Blackjack in Burma; Tempting Lady Luck Just Across the River From Thailand's Golden Triangle

“And those lights just over there—that’s the casino in Burma,” said Mark Heather late one night, pointing across a river from the outdoor terrace of the hotel he manages, Anantara, in Thailand’s Golden Triangle.

A casino? In Burma?

We were standing in the very north of Thailand, where the borders of Laos and Burma—or Myanmar as the generals who run the country prefer to call it—meet. The crew and I were almost done shooting our northern Thailand show for public television, and Heather, the Anantara’s general manager, had kindly invited us to a first-rate Italian dinner at his hotel.

Eating freshly made lasagna in a Thai jungle setting was strange enough. But I was equally surprised to learn a casino was just a quarter of a mile away. When I think of Burma, I don't think of roulette tables; I think of a country whose population is struggling to carve out a living while a military dictatorship tries to hang on to its power and lavish lifestyle in the face of almost global approbation.

The Golden Triangle, of course, is known for its long history of growing poppies that produce much of the world’s opium. And while the poppy fields of northern Thailand have almost entirely been replaced with tea plantations and other legitimate agricultural pursuits, the poppy industry is booming across the border in Burma. So is the production of methamphetamine, and smugglers sneak both opium and meth across the border into Thailand to reach world markets. Which is one reason no boats are allowed on the border river after six at night.

We were due to return to Bangkok the next day, but I really wanted to step into Burma, if only for an hour.

“Can I visit?” I asked Heather.

“Sure,” he said.

Turns out you just drive five minutes from the Anantara to a border town on the Mae Sai river, pay about $7 dollars, and obtain a one-day visa to Burma. Thirty yards from the small office where that quick transaction occurs, long-tail boats await to bear you across the narrow river to a dock on the Burma side. The free boat ride is courtesy of the two casino-hotels there, Paradise and Win Win. Both operations are housed in the same several-story building; I was told two Thai brothers owned the businesses but had apparently had a falling out and split the building into two identical halves—the left half is Paradise, the right half is Win Win.

The next day it was raining lightly—unusual this time of year in Thailand—when we boarded the boat for the three-minute ride from Thailand to Burma. We were met on the other side by a young man with an extra umbrella who escorted us up a few steps from the small dock to an official in a makeshift immigration office.

After a quick look at our visas, he gestured toward a rather dilapidated jitney that carried us down a perfectly straight, non-descript, concrete road to the front door of Paradise and Win & Win (or “Win Win,” as locals call it). Except for jungle, there was nothing else in sight—no houses, no stores, no village, no other streets. It was a direct shot: dock to casino/hotel.

Clearly, since there are no casinos in Thailand, the Burmese government figured setting one up just across the border was a good business proposition. (There’s another Thai-owned casino not far away just across the border in Laos, a well, I learned.) And it appears business is just fine. Manicured landscaping surrounds the several-story building, and it appeared we were the only customers around as we pulled up to the main door. A gold carpet led to Paradise, and about 12 feet away, a parallel red carpet led to Win Win.

I chose Paradise.

As I entered the spacious hotel lobby and walked up the stairs to the casino, I was well aware of the long-running debate among American travelers: To visit Burma or not to visit Burma? The first school of thought holds that to visit Burma and to bring hard currency into the country only helps prop up the country’s military regime. The other side of that argument is, without foreign visitors, the locals have no chance to make a real living and very little contact with the outside world.

I’d asked ex-pats and others in Northern Thailand on what side of the argument they came down on. Without exception, they wished more Americans would visit the country to help the locals and bring more news of other countries to Burma. Me? I don’t know the answer.

I do know I wanted to win because I figured I didn’t want to give a dollar to the government.

I counted out a few $100 dollar bills to buy chips. While the cashier carefully examined them under an ultra-violet light to check for counterfeits,  I checked out the casino. It was one, big room trimmed in gold with paintings that looked like they’d been done by WPA artists, sort of Art Deco in style. It was very clear what kind of games most customers liked to play—there were about 20 baccarat tables, two roulette wheels and a single blackjack table.  Six baccarat tables were the only ones doing any business.  All the players were Asian.  Outside the main room were a few rows of slot machines with nary a customer.

The cashier slid a couple of my $100 bills back to me.

“Only new,” she said.

Now you know: If you go to a casino in the Golden Triangle, don’t bring any old $100 US bills—only the newer, redesigned bills are acceptable, which I thought was pretty damn picky.

And then I went to the blackjack table where, after a very nice initial run of natural hands, I proceeded to give the house most of my money.

Clearly, I should have gone to Win Win.

On the way out, I stopped at the hotel front desk and asked the room rates.

“You play in casino?” asked the desk clerk.

“I did,” I answered.

“Special rate. Fifty US a night.”

I forgot to ask if they had Wi-Fi and CNN.

I knew that deep in the miles of jungles inland from the casino were meth labs as well as ethnic Karen rebels who have been battling the Burmese military for years. Closer to the Thai border, a Burmese border town is home to a thriving black market; bar owners in Northern Thailand, where there’s a steep tax on imported liquor, know the number to call there in order to arrange a surreptitious delivery of tax-free booze.

Things haven’t gotten boring in the Golden Triangle, tea plantations notwithstanding.

Pack Light: US Airways Begins $25 Charge For Second Checked Bag

Passengers who normally check two bags when flying are slowing getting squeezed--effective May 25, on all tickets purchased after Feb. 26, anyone who is not an "elite" member of US Airways' frequent flyer program, not in the military, and not an unaccompanied minor, will be required to pay $25 to check a second bag.

The other exceptions: If you hold silver or gold status on other Star Alliance carriers or are flying first class, you won't have to pay the fee.

Look for more passengers wrestling more carry-on bags into overhead bins on board every flight and slower lines through security (but faster lines at luggage check-in counters). 

Why Coca-Cola's Bakery Didn't Make It In Baan Talae Nok, Thailand

One sunny December morning three years ago, the schoolchildren of the southern Thai fishing village of Baan Talae Nok were in their playground near the beach practicing for a New Year’s ceremony. About 500 yards down the sand, a national park employee noticed the waters of the Andaman Sea looked strange—the water seemed to be receding quickly. He grabbed his motorbike and raced over a dusty, pock-mocked trail toward the village to warn the residents that a tsunami was headed their way. 

Tragically, the messenger bearing that news was known to be a heavy drinker, and the villagers dismissed his warnings as the raving of an alcoholic. Soon thereafter, half of the village houses were flattened by a wall of water. Fort y seven of the village’s 228 residents perished, including 16 schoolchildren. 

Today, the survivors live in cement homes set well away from the beach, homes built with the assistance of the Thai navy and an aid organization. There’s a new school, a modern, sparkling, all-brick complex with a pleasant courtyard, covered dining area, and six schoolrooms with neatly ordered desks and books.

And there’s also nascent industry in the Muslim village of Baan Talae Nok, which is a good thing. For generations, the sea provided villagers with their livelihood, but commercial fishing—you can see the ships on the horizon every night off the village beach—has led to overfishing, and the local catch is dwindling. With the help of an American named Bodhi Garrett, who was working at a nearby resort when the tsunami hit, Bann Taley Nok now hosts travelers in their homes, sharing meals with them and taking them hiking or out to sea to bring in the fishing nets (with an optional side trip to a pristine beach on a nearby uninhabited island where the just-caught fish are grilled for lunch).

Garrett, who was born in Nepal and raised in California, began the North Andaman Tsunami Relief, an independent, non-profit, non-religious organization to help decimated villages get back on their feet. Some might gaze at the splendid western coastline of the Andaman Sea and envision a parade of beach resorts, as you’ll find on the heavily touristed island of Phuket about a three-hour drive south of Baan Talae Nok. But others, like Garrett, thought it important to preserve the local culture that’s so often overrun by commercial development.

There are still fishermen in Baan Talae Nok, but if you visit the village early in the year, you’ll find as many as 20 residents meticulously shelling cashews for a nearby cashew processing plant. (A worker adept at shelling can earn 35 Thai baht a day, or slightly more than $1.) There are groves of rubber trees that are tapped by villagers. And visit the spa at the very posh Banyan Tree hotel in Bangkok and you’ll find soaps from Baan Talae Nok, fragrant bars made of, among other things, cloves, cumin, saffron flower, lemongrass, black sesame seed, and tamarind.

The village homestay program is now administered by another young company, Andaman Discoveries,  which runs a seven-month course on tourism development for locals that teaches the advantages of cultural heritage, environmental stewardship, and adventure-based guiding methods, as well as first aid, computer, and English skills. 

Visitors commonly stay three days (though some have stayed longer) and are briefed fully before arrival on what to expect—beds on floors with mosquito nets, Asian-style toilets, and little hot water. The traditional way to shower is to use a small bowl that is dipped in a vat of water—just pour it over your head to rinse. Surprisingly, high-speed Internet service (via satellite) is available for $1.35 an hour. 

I stayed one night in a home with our hostess, Cha, who prepared meals as good, if not better, than anything I’ve enjoyed elsewhere in Thailand. Because Baan Talae Nok is a Muslim village, no alcohol is served, so it’s all about water, sodas or fruit juices. At sunset, I saw one of the more extraordinary sights I’ve ever seen: More than 40 water buffalo parade across the beach into the sea to wallow in the salt water. Villagers told me it happens every night. The next morning, as I took a long-tailed motorboat to bring up fishing nets, I saw numerous crab-eating monkeys patrolling the bank of the klong (canal) leading to the sea. The monkeys are also adept at opening oysters. Mudskippers skittered along the (appropriately muddy) shoreline, and overhead I saw Brahminy Kites, comorants, and white-bellied sea eagles.

On a good month, Baan Talae Nok hosts as many as 25 visitors; the oldest tourist so far was 73 years old.

To visit, fly to Phuket or Suratthani and hire a car—Andaman Discoveries can help you with the logistics.

Efforts to help villages such as Baan Talae Nok following the tsunami have not always worked perfectly. On the village’s paved road, a weathered sign reads, “The Coca-Cola system in Thailand, as part of its tsunami reconstruction program, is proud to present this bakery to the community of Baan Talae Nok. Coca-Cola will always stand with the people of the south in good times and bad.”

The problem is, the residents of the village don’t eat bread, and they don’t have the means to transport it to other markets. Today what was supposed to be a bakery is a private home, though the sign still stands. Price Waterhouse Coopers was more on target; its German division built the town’s new school. Along with construction and landscaping, the company donated 20 computers and a batch of musical instruments. Today the computers and instruments sit unused because there is no one available to teach the 37 students how to use them. Andaman Discoveries is trying to raise enough money to pay for teachers.

There is, however, one important detail everyone got right: The school sits on the very highest point of land overlooking the village. 

Citrus Alert: Don't Drop Those Lemons & Limes Into Your Iced Tea!

From our continuing series on germs you encounter while traveling comes news from healthinspections.com that those wedges of lemon and lime that accompany your iced tea or vodka tonics might be loaded with germs, including that old non-favorite, "fecal matter."  Is it time to bring your own (already washed) to restaurants?  You be the judge --check out the short video below.  And be afraid, very afraid.

French Flight Attendant Strips in Cockpit For Captain AND Video

It makes you wonder, in these days of rampant video posting on the web, what the crew members of an unspecified French airline flying a short hop to London were thinking when they videotaped a well-endowed flight attendant stripping in the cockpit in flight. And then there's the safety consideration--a little office hanky panky may be harmless, but a cockpit crew is supposed to be watching the skies and the controls, not each other.

In the video, a 20-something flight attendant (wearing a wedding ring) disrobes for the pilot, who helpfully assists, while another flight attendant watches and giggles as someone--presumably the co-pilot--films the sequence.  The video was posted on the web this week.  Then the London Sun gave the story a big boost by writing about the frisky "trolley dolly" and the "amorous airman" and posting the video on its web site along with a plea for anyone who knows the identity of the cockpit crew to call the newspaper.

Given the British tabloids' habit of paying for tips, I have a hunch it's only a matter of hours until someone turns in the stars of this homemade video for a fat check.   And only a matter of time before the crew begins collecting unemployment benefits.

What Do YOU Think About United Charging $25 For a Second Bag?

Unless you fly at least 25,000 miles a year on United Airlines, you're only going to be permitted to check one piece of luggage for free beginning May 5th if you're flying on a non-refundable, domestic coach ticket.  (Though tickets purchased for future travel before next Monday, Feb. 11th, are exempt from the new rule.)  A second bag will cost $25.

While a fee for checking bags is routine at a few discount airlines around the world (Rynair being the most prominent), this is the first time a US airline has levied a charge on a second bag.  Travelers flying overseas on United may still check two bags at no charge, but the new regulations do apply on flights to Canada, Puerto Rico, and St. Thomas. 

United says only a quarter of its passengers check more than one bag, but I predict overhead bins will begin to fill up even faster now as passengers try to beat the rule that could cost them $50 round trip if they check more than one piece of luggage.  Premier members or higher of United's frequent flyer program may continue to check two bags at no cost.

Do you think the other airlines are watching this gambit closely to see if it, ahem, flies?  You bet. 

It's Art: Frozen In Grand Central Station! Immovable People!

I love these kinds of things, but it always amazes me folks have time to have this much fun!  Organizing more than 200 people to stop busy commuters in New York City's Grand Central Station is no small feat.

Perhaps it's MY life I ought to examine in hopes of figuring out why, at least every once in a while, I don't take the time to be a bit more creative and participate in something that is, at least for five minutes in this case, a temporary work of art and theater.