By Sean Williams
24 May 2020

At night the saccharine smell of opium wafts across bars and restaurants all over Tachileik

My fire has almost burned out and I’m curled into a ball on the wet sand, freezing. I barely slept. My travel companion has cracked a rib. Our boat’s pilot, who slept below deck, has nothing but dried noodles, same as last night. We’re somewhere between Laos and Myanmar – though exactly where, we’re not sure. We’ve encountered pimps, trigger-happy soldiers and gangsters on this trip. But it’s the river that has dragged us closest to breaking.

As the haze lifts we embark on the second leg of our trip, down a river whose banks have scored borders and conflicts for centuries. They’ll carry us to a casino on its muddy shores, where this saga began, almost four months previously. Back then, it had all seemed so simple.

The Kings Romans resort is a jungle Vegas, carved out of a special economic zone (SEZ) the size of 20 Hyde Parks in the heart of the Golden Triangle, where the borders of Laos, Thailand and Myanmar meet. Its vibe is low-rent hedonism, a Roman orgy with nibbles from Greggs.

Myanmar ditched a law banning foreign-owned casinos in 2018, paving the way for even more drug money. Ruled by a barely fathomable patchwork of ethnic militias, rebels and corrupt Burmese army (Tatmadaw) generals, crime bosses could land in an isolated spot, pay off the relevant strongmen and get to work.

Outside the Blue Shield, things get weird. At night the resort comes alive with street-food alleys and thumping techno that hops across streets filled with groups of drunk young men. Many of them sport bloodshot, thousand-yard stares – a sign of meth abuse. Women sit on plastic chairs looking bored – or nervous. It’s as easy to buy drugs as noodles. Finding underage girls (the legal age of consent in Laos is 15) is tougher.

A group of pimps sat beside us, slapping our backs and laughing every time a girl danced in front of us. Most of the girls were aged somewhere between 15 and 20. At one table in the farthest corner of the club, however, sat six girls who looked much younger.

Mark shareholds a cartel shifting ice and yaba from the Shan jungle. A dual-US national, he spent over a decade searching for Burmese footholds in the American meth market. But he returned to Myanmar having failed to find a state that wasn’t already controlled by South American or Vietnamese gangs. Now, he focuses on logistics between Tachileik and Thailand.

Waiting around in a drug town to be led to a jungle lab by young men who are almost constantly high, all the while being watched by cops and God knows who else: the stress finds an outlet in true Tachileik style, ending nights by purchasing packets of plantain leaves soaked in purple opium and either chasing its fumes from tinfoil or smoking it out of a bong.

Mark outlined our plan for The Machine. At dawn we’d head out, blindfolded, along a little-known jungle route, avoiding Tatmadaw and Wa checkpoints. Of the group, only Tattoo Guy knew it.

The next day we return to Tachileik. Mark is back in touch. A friend had been caught by the Thai authorities with more than £200,000 of meth destined for New Zealand. Mark had been in on the deal too. Business is down and his friend could be sentenced to death.

There, in a bamboo-hut restaurant, posing as Australian meth dealers, we meet the smugglers: a middle-aged couple from the village across the river, who claim that the easiest way to ship is via the Kings Romans, where they could deliver a tonne of product to the door of one of its restaurants. It’s the perfect stopover: no cops, no rules.

full https://www.gq-magazine.co.uk/politics/ ... r-meth-lab

good read, thanks. it seems difficult to get there.

Has anyone here been there?

Found it ......