The driver of the mini bus cruised the windy roads, accelerating into curves as myself and another group of travelers held on to the seat in front anxiously. “I hope we make it to Mandalay,” I half jokingly exclaimed. We were on the “road to Mandalay,” just as Rudyard Kipling remarked in his famous poem over a century ago.

I arrived from the nerve wrecking bus ride from Bagan to Mandalay to Ostello Bello Hostel to an environment I had never seen before. A city of one million people, an ancient capital of the Mien Kingdom, with barely paved roads, and clouds of dust permeating in the air as the cars zig-zagged fighting the potholes.

I entered the hostel to find travelers chatting, sipping ice cold Myanmar beers, and playing games. I wandered up the stairs to my room, and organized all my things, and sat down to read the book I had brought along to Myanmar, “High Output Management,” before I was interrupted by a young woman around my age with a European accent.

It started as your typical hostel conversation with Theresa from Germany I later find out, and we got into what we’d do during our time in Mandalay. “I think I’ll either go to the northeast corner of Mandalay or Pyin Oo Lwin.” “I’m going to Pyin Oo Lwin tomorrow!!” I responded, catching her off guard with my enthusiasm. I explained why I wanted to go there, with my interest in colonial architecture and all there is to do. After a minute or so, I had her convinced.

Theresa and I left the hostel in search of breakfast and the motorbike shop. As we’re crossing the road, Theresa admits, “This will be my first time riding a scooter.” “Oh…well…you’ll be fine,” failing to deliver full confidence. We took our scooters out for a test drive, and Theresa did well for it being her first time on a motorbike – a few wobbles here and there, but good nonetheless!

We were off and cruising, but with the construction going on, we couldn’t find our way to the freeway. As I am turning around to find an entrance, I see in my peripheral vision a teeter from Theresa’s scooter, and as I am turning my head back – down goes the scooter and Theresa with it. I immediately rushed back to find Theresa with just a scratch on her arm, ready to keep moving. She’s tough as nails. I was worried about continuing on with it being Theresa’s first scooter experience, only to find out later I should be more worried about myself.

As we were getting ready to venture on – only still looking for the freeway entrance, Theresa says her scooter won’t start. The kickstand spring had been broken in the fall, and instantly, shutting off the motor. I thought for a moment, and pulled out, believe it or not, an iPhone cord. Well, actually you should, because the picture is below. I looped around the kickstand, and another part of the bike, tying it tight, hoping that our (short, so far) Myanmar motorbike journey pressed on.

The contraption worked. I smiled arrogantly as the breeze in the hot, humid air flew into my face and enveloped the helmet. I saved the day, pretty much. There were expansive views of the Myanmar countryside as we motored 70 kilometers up into the hills and Pyin Oo Lwin.

As we swerved in and out of the quaint town, it was apparent Theresa had I had entered a different world. Weaving through the well-planned streets of the town, we felt like we were arriving in the 1920s. We passed mansions modeled after the old British days, and some, the originals.

Formerly known as Maymyo, or May’s Town, during the British controlled Burma days, Pyin Oo Lwin is fascinating town with a mix of Myanmar people, descendants of those British residents, many of Chinese or Indian origin, among others. The British built this as their military station because it’s tucked away in the high hills where temperatures can be 20 degrees F cooler than in Mandalay.

During our visit to the Anglican ‘All Saints Church,’ I looked for a place for lunch and decided on a spot called “San Francisco,” immediately harkening the aroma and taste of a clam chowder sourdough bread bowl from Boudin bakery. Theresa and I had a laugh about how average the food was after having too high of expectations.

We continued on through the little streets of the town, littered with shade from the large trees, into the photogenic National Kandawgyi Botanical Gardens. Explore the gardens, visiting the aviary and the cute takins, goat-like animals from the Eastern Himalayas, and then snap a candid in front of the famous sign.

Theresa’s bike still operational thanks to the iPhone cord, we were able to leave the botanical gardens and head to our last stop, Pwe Gauk waterfalls. We found ourselves confused as to which direction we should be heading. One could say we were “lost.” After asking some helpful locals, we were back on track. And by track, I mean and actual track of dirt road winding through the famous coffee plantations. The sun started to creep down slowly, but we hardly noticed as we enjoyed our ride to the falls.

Theresa and I parked our bikes at the entrance to the small trail to the creek. I notice a beautiful Burmese girl carrying a basket on her head, and we locked eyes for a moment and smiled at each other, then waved. It felt like an alternate “Jungle Book” – a young man raised by parents in the city finds his way into the jungle to woo the girl in the “man village.” It was not meant to be, unfortunately.

A couple of ice cold Myanmar beers were needed for refreshment and we chatted for a while nearby the waterfall, having wonderful discussions of Myanmar, books, and travels. As we were leaving Pyin Oo Lwin and filling up our tanks at the gas station, we noticed the sun had taken a dramatic turn for the horizon, and we’d be leaving at dusk for our two hour trip back to Mandalay. This would prove to be a challenge we were ill prepared for.

I noticed that Theresa’s main headlight on her scooter is broken. “We’ll have to get that fixed as soon as possible, and we should get the kickstand spring fixed as well,” I said with a laugh. It took about 20 minutes down the road until we found a shop. These Burmese people were so accommodating, and allowed us to sit in their chairs while they worked on the scooter. I asked if I could use the bathroom, and after they understood, pointed me in the right direction – around the back to the outhouse. It could be done standing this time. We accepted the final bill of 7,500 Kyat or $7 USD, and said our goodbyes to our host family – again, on the Road to Mandalay.

Darkness upon us, the road conditions still as questionable as ever, dust flew up into eyes again, but this time we could only see 50 ft ahead of us. Theresa and I had to navigate the downhill carefully if we didn’t want to, let’s just say, get hurt.

As I’m coming into a downhill turn, I hit a patch of gravel, and the bike slid out from under me. A large truck barely missed me while I slid, but got a thumbs up from the passenger making sure I was okay. Luckily, I came away with just some scrapes on my leg, whereas the bike’s left mirror had been broken and obtained a good scratch down the left side. After the downhill stretch, things became slightly easier, even though some blood seeped into my sock.

We saw the faint lights of Mandalay from a distance, and knew we had made it back. After dodging some of the wild Mandalay traffic, where there are hardly stop signals, we returned the bikes – in addition to paying some small damage fees to the ever gracious Mandalay Motorbike Rentals. Returning to the hostel, I was patched up by Theresa, who is on a path to become a physician. I had another bus to catch.

I thanked “Dr. Theresa,” and gave her a hug, and was on the road again – this time from Mandalay. What started as a “typical hostel conversation” ended up being an epic journey of excitement, danger, and discovery needing a zeal for adventure and a lot of perseverance. My stay in Mandalay was only 28 hours, but I hold memories for a lifetime.