havecarryonwilltravel

Buddhism (one thought)

Uncle Abbott explains portions of Buddhism in this way. Buddhists try to eliminate worry. One way to do this is to shave their heads. If a person has hair, he/she worries about fashion, how it looks. With no hair, no worries! If a person has a car, they worry about the car. Accidents, keeping it clean, buying gas. No car, no worries! In North America, people accumulate too many material things. A new car, a boat, an RV, clothes, furniture, TVs. With all this stuff comes a lot of worrying. How will I pay for it, am I keeping up with the Jones, these clothes are not in fashion any longer. If we just reduced, our worries would disappear! Murray and I are purging the contents of our house and I think we have a ways to go to be worry free.

No Shoe, No Socks

You can wear your hat but be sure to doff your shoes and socks. We have visited temples before and were always required to remove our shoes but this is the first time socks have been an issue. This made me understand where the barefoot fashion of the hippie movement came from. When those in search of enlightenment returned from Asia they were used to being without footwear and the hippies that did not get a chance to go east adopted the habit. Most folks here have taken to wearing flip flops, I started to tie my shoes loose so they would slip off and leave my socks at the hotel.

Food

Myanmar food consists of rice and curry. The word curry refers to the accoutrements added with the rice, meat, vegetable, chilies, some spicy, some not, etc., they are not necessarily curry as us westerns would know from India or Thailand. The rice is served to each plate and the curries are set in the center of the table in a number of small dishes. Each person picks and chooses the curry of choice and adds it, in small spoonfuls, to the rice, sampling some or all of the available dishes over the course of the meal. In a restaurant you are charged a fixed price per person and you can eat as much or little as you like. If a popular dish is exhausted just ask and it will be refilled. We ate traditional Burmese food several times and it is quite good. One of our guides warned us to eat this way only at lunch. The food is cooked just before lunch and is served hot. What is left from lunch then sits in the pot and is again served at dinner. Our sensitive western stomachs would most likely revolt.

It has not taken very long for this country to adopt a worldwide menu.  Although there are no chain’s such as MacDonald’s, or KFC here you can find pizza, french fries and the like quite easily. Good for some tourists but it is a bit of a drag for us to be directed to a restaurant by a guide and the only thing on the menu is Italian food. I imagine it will not be long before the golden arches grace the sky of Yangon and Mandalay.

AC

In hot climates, when we sleep, Debbie and I usually opt to use a ceiling fan, in lieu of AC. We have only run into one ceiling fan in 2 weeks and that one was connected to the ceiling light so it was either the fan and light or no light and no fan. It is far too hot here to try and sleep without so we have been using the AC. To us who do not have AC in our house we find it dries us out and it get very cold in the room about 3 or 4 in the morning. If you come from a climate where AC is not common beware as I think it is a must here.

Myanmar

I learned more about Myanmar vs. Burma. There are two peoples that are the main people in Myanmar, the Burmese in the north and the Mon in the south. They live in a country call Myanmar. Us westerners think that the name Myanmar was introduce by an unpopular military government that was in power here for many years. In fact it is the name Burma that was thrust upon the country by the British when they colonized this area in the mid 19^th century. Myanmar , I am told, was used by the people here for many centuries before the arrival of the Europeans. Old habits are hard to break but I am now going to refer to this country as Myanmar.

Capital City

The capital of Myanmar has changed many times throughout history. It seems every time there is a power shift the new administration moves the capital. Sometimes it is because the capital is moved to be in the homeland of the new leader, sometimes it is moved for a strategical reason like a central location or the new city is located where the ocean going ships can access.

The latest move was initiated by the military government. It was time to make a legacy and it was determined to build an entirely new city in a more central location. This was done successfully by Brazil 30 or 40 years ago and now Brasilia is bustling city with relatively new infrastructure that is at least worth a visit if just to see some of the very impressive government buildings. Naypyidaw was occupied in 2005. The government workers were informed on short notice they were about to move if they want to keep their job so people packed up and joined the military convoy headed north to the newly constructed city. It is not on the tourist trail yet but I would imagine it will be there someday.

Bicycle Ban

In an effort to make Yangon a ‘world class’ city the previous government banned the use of motor bikes and bicycles in Yangon, much to the city’s detriment in my humble opinion. The traffic is horrendous, there is a constant jam of vehicles and things are slow to move, although they do move. The new administration is not quite so strict on the rules and there are a few two wheeled vehicles appearing on the streets. Funny enough more bicycles than motor bikes.

Bicycles are allowed in Mandalay but not allowed in Yangon

I do find it odd that as the world around is converting to more bicycle use there is a city in SE Asia, where the bike is perfect transportation, that has restricted its use.

Practice Monks

We read before we came to Myanmar that all boys must at some time in their young lives attend a monastery. I ask our Yangon guide Mo if his sons went to a monastery. His oldest son went for a week when he was 14. I asked if he went under duress and Mo said no, he was okay with it. He stayed a week. He is now 22 years old and is attending university in Singapore. Mo’s third child, a son, was not happy to have to attend the monastery, so they choose an overnight stay only. He did not even make it overnight. He ended up going home in the evening and everyone in the family had to sleep on mats on the floor as he was a monk until the morning and he was of a higher status than them, so they all had to sleep as he would sleep. Mo did say that he knows of a boy that went to a monastery and liked the life there and eventually went to live there permanently. I guess the visits do help young boys and men decide whether they want to follow the vocation of monkhood.

Last day in a wonderful country. Much like Bhutan it has its toe in the door of the modern world but unlike Bhutan, tradition and the old ways are not legislated. They are as they have progressed over time. To see this time warp is why we travel. Living and staying in one place and not venturing abroad, the perception is there is one way to do things. Of course, it is the best way. We, who live in the “modern” world, truly believe the way we live should be the way all live. Travel provides reflection and reveals there are many ways and many reasons not to follow the status quo.

All four of us watch from our traffic stalled taxi as 5 men sit in the gutter of the road with a cup of water and a scrub brush hand washing the curb to better reveal the red and white “No Parking” indicators. Primitive as this may seem, if a machine were to be purchased there would be many people out of work and not contributing to society, as well, they would be poor. I’m sure in time some well-meaning westerner will convince the municipal government they need a machine to do this job and life in Yangon will change once more.

The silly (only in jest) people at Asia Expeditions have planned a free day for us in Yangon and let the four of us loose on the town. WATCH OUT! We don’t stray far from the areas we walked yesterday but we only have a couple of hours and, again, it is stinking hot. I am truly amazed at how hot 32 C is here and our guides tell us in the hot season it can reach 40 C.

We are all trying to arrive at the airport with very few Kaht in our pockets. L has some shopping to do, R still has room in his suitcase and there is no use in returning home without Myanmar goods filling the space, so we stroll through the wholesale market looking for longgi. Few tourist come here, it’s not the kind of place for most. The aisles are literally a shoulder width wide and the traffic is two way. The goods are stacked solid 3 meters high in stalls the size of a typical market stall anywhere in the world (ie tiny!). The air is not moving at all and the sweat pours from us. Shopping is successful and R&L’s stash of Kaht is down a few more bills. After lunch and a taxi ride back to the hotel, R has 700 Kaht ($0.70) in his pocket and I have 1,000 Kaht ($1.00) in mine. Only what we need to adorn our scrap book.

An uneventful ride to the airport, check-in and it’s good bye Myanmar.

The people are the country as they say and the Mon and Burmese are super. I’m quite sure we did not meet one unfriendly person in the entire two weeks. They are very polite and are eager to help at every opportunity. Those who service the tourist industry are impeccably trained, a bit too much for me personally, but most will love it. Restaurant staff is super attentive but not as over bearing as the wait staff in North America are trained to be. The porters are at the tail gate of the van waiting for the bags before our feet hit the pavement. At Inle Lake the front desk clerk left her station to come to the dock to wish us farewell. All this will bode well when today’s traveller has a chance to relay their experience to other would be tourists.

The archeological sites have been serviced very well. 1,000 year old structures have withstood weather and war and are amazing to view. For all the bad press thrust upon the military backed previous government, our guide informed us it was at their instigation many of the phaya have be restored. We also learned that most of the restoration took place under the guidance of trained archeologists from around the world.

The photographic opportunities of Myanmar are endless. Nature’s colours, the many greens, the golden rice, the colorful clothing of the traditional tribes and the early morn or late afternoon light all together allow the opportunity for stunning photos.

The folks have a pride in their space and surroundings. As more and more packaging, one of those bad western concepts, is introduced into their lives, they seem to have a handle on keeping the potential mess at bay. Most do their part, use the waste receptacles available and clean their “yard” or store space regularly.

Bit and Pieces

A very friendly crew these people.  When I walk towards them on the street I notice most do not avert their eyes and are perfectly happy to greet me with a Min Ga Lar Par or Hello

The street game of choice is a combination of hacky sack and volley ball played with a ball made of cane and a net. It’s called Chin Lone. No hands involved and each volley must be returned over the net for play to continue.

In addition to water, a complete necessity, the driver greets us with a towelette each time we return from an outing. If we are heading to a less frequented dustier phaya he hands us a towelette as we disembark so as to clean our sockless, shoeless feet soles. A very nice touch.

For a country so recently run by a military autocracy and still lead by a military majority in their parliament, there are surprizing few visible soldiers. As in all countries, we see the occasional green truck or military base, but there are no sentries with machine guns or overzealous displays of might to remind people to stay in line.

The bark of the maccow (phonetically speaking) tree and a little elbow grease are combined to enable the Myanmar women to make themselves beautiful and to keep themselves cool. Every woman owns a small grinding stone and purchases small logs of the tree. The bark is ground on the stone with a little water and the resulting paste, called thanaka,  is smeared on their cheeks. Somewhat like rouge only a larger area, it can be just smeared with a finger, or a pattern can be introduced with a comb or brush. This creamy yellow applique is worn by almost 100% of the women and even some men.

Modesty is still very much a part of Myanmar. Traditional dress is the clothing of choice but even in the big cities those that dress in western clothing are few and far between. We arrived in Mandalay via Bangkok and did not really notice the contrast in humility. We were then immersed in modesty for two weeks and within minutes of our return to Bangkok, we all commented on the legs, the high heels and the lack of clothing, most evident on the young women, but also on the young men.

Myanmar is worth a trip. We did meet one couple, I think well-travelled, that pined for more “infrastructure” in Myanmar. Even though I think they are well-travelled, they are maybe used to a little more pampering. If you are the type wanting to see a country squeezing into the 21^st century, go now. Every year will see huge changes and the exact things you want to see will disappear. If you just wish to see a different part of the world in luxury, wait a few years. Either way, the scenery won’t change much and the people will hopefully retain their friendliness. It will be a great trip.

Every time we depart from a country it ranks high on the list of places travelled, but when asked if we will return, our answer has become “We are aging quickly and there are so many there places to see.” Given the right circumstances, I would return to Myanmar but it would be at the expense of a visit to another unexplored world.

Shwedagon Pagoda

The morning sun is glinting off the Shwedagon Pagoda in Yangon, Myanmar. We are driven to the lake/park in the center of Yangon and stop at a good viewing spot so we can get pictures of Myanmar’s most famous pagoda bathed in the morning light. Our guide pays for our entrance and we walk inside the gate, maybe 20M, stand on the edge of a boardwalk and shoot a couple of pics. This is totally ridiculous. The pictures are not great, it would have to be a perfect day to get good photos and I think, I did not go to check, I could have gotten mediocre pictures just outside the gate and saved the entrance fee. If you come here try just outside the gate first. If you have to get on to the boardwalk you can enter the park at any other gate for free and walk to this particular boardwalk to shoot the shot that every other tourist to Yangon has shot.

The driver lets us off at a street corner in Chinatown and we start our walking tour of downtown Yangon. Personally I like to do this sort of thing. This is the way to see how the people of the land live their day to day lives. Up and down the streets we walk. They are crowded with on the street type shops. Everyone has something for sale. Live eels squirming in a wash tub, live pheasants in a small wire cage, meat from some identifiable animals, some not so much, vegetables, cooking utensils, and whatever else one might need, all being displayed side by side in harmony. There is hardly any room to walk much less for a vehicle. The area is much the same as Chinatown in most cities of the world but there is a subtle difference I cannot identify. It may be due to the fact that the sellers are quiet, no yelling of what is for sale, merchants just sit by their goods and wait for a prospective customer to approach them.

We look to the other side of The Strand; a very busy street that runs parallel to the docks. Our goal is to get to the other side and visit those docks. As in most of the world the pedestrian does in practice not have the right of way. So with five of us trying to make it to the other side it is quite a chore. Mo, our Yangon guide, has to shepherd 4 Myanmar street novices across. Lane by lane we cross and stand on the line between the rows of moving traffic. The drivers are quite polite and do not take direct aim at us but in fact do steer around the human island. They do, none the less, continue on their journey and have no intention of stopping to let us across the next lane. We get to the center line and pause, waiting for the light on our left to turn red which would allow us to bolt between the stopped cars. Fat chance! The light turns red and it seems the red light is merely an indication there may be danger ahead, it does not mean stop as we had assumed, the traffic continues on. We wait. There is finally a small gap and we all rush across the last two lanes and arrive on the dock side of the street.

I am enamored by the docks. 25 years ago I visited Singapore. I had a romantic vision of the docks there. I had seen pictures of rusty old ships docked along the banks with gang planks the only access to the shore. The gang planks were alive with coolies walking up and down carrying heavy loads. By the time I had arrived in Singapore the cultural evolution to the cleanest place on earth had taken hold of the dock lands and the entire river bank was this lovely sterile walkway with high-end condos lining the length. Very beautiful but oh so disappointing to a traveller on his first trip to SE Asia.

Today I am astounded by what I see. There are many ships of all varieties docked at the jetty, as it is referred to. Docked there is a ship with a walkway leading ashore and there two lines of workers, one carrying 50kg bags ashore on their backs and one returning for another load. It took 25 years but right in front of me is that romantic vision I had conjured up on my first trip to a world much different than the one I live in.

The walk about town continues through the Muslim area. The scene is the same just a slightly different focus on what is for sale. We do not walk too many side streets but there is a lot of action on the main streets. If we had a few more days we would be able to strike out into the suburbs and explore the more mundane side of life but I get my fix of Myanmar city day to day life and it makes my day.

There are places where you will run into other travellers and there are areas where you won’t. The first tourists we see after we got dropped at the corner of Chinatown is when we get to our lunch spot. It is funny but the guides tend to lead us to the restaurants that are totally set for foreigners. The food is good but somewhat boring when the first thing on the menu is pizza.

Shwedagon Pagoda

After a short drive around the area where the grand colonial buildings are situated, most of which are in good condition and with a small amount of work could be spectacular, we head to Myanmar’s most famous pagoda. The Shwedagon Pagoda is the center piece of thousands phaya throughout the land. The tall spire is almost 100M high and the top ¾ is faced with gold plated tiles. The bottom quarter is covered in gold leaf. The group responsible for care of the stupa maintains 3 metric tons of gold adorning this most spectacular religious symbol. 

We arrive at the Shwedagon Pagoda just after 4pm, the perfect time to hang out and wait for the evening sun to light the golden spire, providing an opportunity to get a good photo or two. The morning light was only OK, and now the clouds have gathered in the west and stifle our hopes to get that once in a trip pic.

Bridge over the creek

We travel by boat up one of the creeks that drain into Inle Lake. It is not a creek right now but a torrent. All the rain that fell on us up in the hills during our attempted hike has now worked its way downstream and is flowing into the lake. The current is swift and the banks are almost breached.

We dock at the small village of In Dein to take in the 5 day market. Every five days, the market is held in that location, each day it is held at a different location. We shop for peppercorns, turmeric, shan noodles, elephants, jiggery and cotton pants. Wai Yan is doing his best to find all the items on our combined shopping list with R&L.

Buying Peppercorns

There are tourists about but the markets in Myanmar have not yet converted to a ‘tourist trap’. The local population still use it to buy the goods they need and there are far more of them than travellers present. Even though the balance is about to tip, to witness commerce as it has been done here since Buddha was a boy is the kind of thing we travel for.

We wander through the market towards the ruins of 1054 ancient pagodas. Many of these pagodas were built in the 13^th, 14^th, and 15^th centuries. They are crumbling; plant life is taking hold everywhere on their structures. Treasure hunters have scavenged the artifacts. One has a Shan style Buddha, the eyebrows are raised, and the torso is slimmer than other Buddha images.

We walk along a well-trodden road towards the top of a hill where there are a forest of renovated pagodas and a temple. Donors pay to renovate a pagoda and have a plaque installed with their name on it. On the way down, we walk inside a portico style walkway with vendors on both sides. We are still finding interesting items that we have not seem elsewhere.

When we entered the area we were asked to pay a camera fee. I instead put my camera away. I did not think I needed more pictures of yet another Buddha, but this temple is very different from the others we have visited. So I tell the guide I want to take some shots and will pay the fee on the way out. Everybody is very agreeable here and really wants to please us so he says that would be OK. Even the non-restored stupas (phaya) are amazingly well preserved and I think the 500 ($.50) kaht camera fee, something I bristle at paying, is worth it.

It is time to start the journey to the airport, so off we go in search of our boat. Yesterday our boat broke down. The saying goes: ‘It is not if the boat will break down, it is when will the boat break down’. So today Wei Yan asks the driver if the boat has been fixed and the answer is something like ‘all is good’. When we arrive at the jetty for the return trip our boat has disappeared, it is again not operating and we have to search out another ride. We have a plane to catch so time is a bit of a problem. Wei Yan finds an available craft and we are on our way east to Jettytown. The boat ride is a bit of a thrill. Touring by boat is much more interesting than sitting in the back of car and motoring along some ‘freeway’.

From here everything is in a bit of a rush. Not to the extreme but unusual for this country. No time to relax at lunch and then a bit of a fast ride to the airport. In fact we arrive with plenty of time and in the end have to wait for the plane which is 20 mins. late.

Yangon is a big city. 5 million people they say, but no one is really sure because the last census was 1983. We arrive at rush hour and the traffic is horrendous. From the air there looks to be very few main roads and everybody is on them. A few years ago in order to present the city as a modern gateway to Myanmar the government in their wisdom banned motor bikes and bicycles. The car import quota was raised and everyone wanting to get around here owns a car. The result; constant traffic jams. We will find out tomorrow how this works in the day.

The hotel is a funny little place close to the downtown area but we cannot determine how close. It has seen better days but is tacky almost to the point of interesting. Odd that the least desirable hotel is our last place to stay in Myanmar. It is quite like our normal standard of hotel so it is OK with us but I would suspect that the average tourist type would be disappointed.

Off the water and back to the land. It shouldn’t take long to walk in a line.

Today is a day of artisans and SHOPPING! We travel the tourist trail not in a van but in a boat. The boat is supplied with water for thirst, ponchos for rain and umbrellas for sun. Five low chairs nicely spaced down the length of the craft so everyone has leg room and a great view. Off we go.

First stop is a temple with five smallish Buddhas, but there has been so much gold leaf pressed onto them that they look like Buddha blobs (sorry). Not too impressive. What was most interesting was the market in behind the temple. Locals and tourists alike were plying the aisles shopping for herbal remedies, boat parts, longgi, kids clothes, tomatoes, throw away syringes, fish, chicken, betel nut, rice and everything else a person could imagine. We wander, look, point, ask questions, bargain, shop and snap photos.

Herbalist at the market

There is a weaving workshop on Inle Lake that weaves the strands from lotus flower stocks. We watch a young woman break the stock, pull the strand from the stock and when she has enough she rolls the strands into a thin string. Another woman spins and hangs the strands to dry. The lotus strands will only take chemical dyes not the natural dyes used for silk. The strands are woven into scarves mostly and are supposed to keep a person warm in cold weather and cool in hot weather. L asks the price of a normal size scarf. $160 US. We both pass up the opportunity to own one.

Lotus strands

The workshop also weaves silk and cotton. The fabrics created are wondrous and I could buy the whole store. I settle for a silk scarf in one of my favorite colours.

A cigar workshop sees three gorgeous women hand rolling short cigars. Two roll “strong” flavoured and one rolls “sweet” flavoured. We are mesmerized by the movement of their hands in the rolling of one cigar. When asked if we would like to try, we kindly say No Thank you!

The blacksmith workshop employs about five strong sweaty men who pump the bellows, heat the metal, hammer the hot metal and create knives of all sizes, scissors, bells, and statuettes. We watch three of them pound in alternating cadence a piece of red hot metal that will eventually become a cleaver. No purchases here.

The Special Fish Silver Workshop is a third generation workshop now run by the grandson of the original owner. He employs only family, sons, cousins, and nephews in the workshop and the ladies in the shop. He explains that they buy “rocks” that have bauxite, copper, silver and zinc in them. The rock is boiled to remove the bauxite and zinc as vapour. Then nitric acid is introduced to separate the copper and silver, they can then remove the silver. There are 4 to 5 artisans creating bracelets, earrings and special articulating fish pendants of all sizes. The male fish articulate up and down and the female fish articulate side to side. No purchases here either – too rich for us.

We spend the last hour of the day cruising the floating gardens that are so well known in Myanmar. The gardeners grow tomatoes, cucumbers, squash and various gourds in rows and rows. It is hard to describe so here are a few pictures.

Floating Gardens

Floating Garden of tomatoes

Every one of these craftspeople is using traditional non-mechanical methods to produce their products. These establishments we visited are not set up for the tourist, as in most countries, but are the way they produce the goods they sell. I hope this does not change with the quaintness of the place replaced by the contrived tourist display of elsewhere.

We have learned about weaving lotus strands, blacksmiths, silver smiths and floating gardens today. A wonderful day which was made so relaxing by the method of transportation – a boat.

Today is a day of rest. Not planned, but we can all use a day of loafing and not one of us is complaining. We awoke this morning to a sun rise. The clouds have dispersed somewhat and the sun is shining covering all that is around with that golden morning sun colour.

What our room looks like

At 4am the tradition around here is to get together with the neighbours and engage in some sort of religious ceremony involving chanting. We are aware of this; there is a note on the table in the hotel giving us the heads up. The chanting itself would not even be an issue but someone in their wisdom introduced the head monks to electronics and the chanting is now broadcast at volume for the entire valley to enjoy. So 4am is wake up time even for all us non Buddhists.

Our view

Shortly after the chanting subsides, just long enough for the boat operators to get to the jetty, the non-mufflered boats start to ply the waters and sleep is again interrupted. The craft pass by the hotel much the same as traffic during the morning rush hour at home. These boats are very long and narrow with a small engine, propeller and shaft that can be lifted from the water. They are much the same as the ubiquitous long tail boat seen throughout Asia but the tail is short and the cross section is more like a canoe. It is odd but the owner of this hotel decided to locate it right between two of the main water routes. It is a little like placing a resort right where two freeways converge. These boats are not quiet, every time one passes, which is about every 3 minutes I conjure up the image of living near a very busy airport. The sound of a passing boat is much the same as that of a 737 taking off.

We know we are not going anywhere today so our day starts in a leisurely manner. We still meet R & L for breakfast at 7am but from there we rest. There are a few chores like drying our still soaked laundry from the hike and reorganizing our gear so we can again live out of our suit cases. We then sit back with our books to read. It is now I realize we are marooned; on an island of stilts with no way off. Last night we see a boardwalk that heads off in a direction away from the hotel and think it might lead to the village visible in the distance. This morning on closer inspection it only goes as far as a gazebo about 100M on. I’m not in a panic but Gilligan’s Island comes to mind.

Another interesting outcome of the day off is the fact we have not seen one monk. No monk looking for alms for breakfast, no monk doing laundry, no monk participating in a ceremony, no monk hanging out at the monastery, not even a monk taking a picture with his IPhone of some tourist attraction. This is a good break as they are becoming quite ordinary. I am not sure that seeing these sites should become ordinary and tomorrow hopefully we can again embrace the unusualness of the place where we are.

How slow is today? Debbie has just filled me in on the fact that the clouds she has been observing are constantly in a state of flux. They change only a very little at a time but they do change. Cloud gazing? We are talking slow.

Post Script

After last year in Africa you would think we would naturally have more information about the animal kingdom. Well, last night we notice a very unusual phenomenon. I think it indicates animals know where to find dinner and they are good at following up on that knowledge.

Along the walkway that connects the cabins there is a row of lanterns on each side. They are staggered as you walk, one on the left, 3 steps on, one on the right. We notice a gecko at one of the lanterns and stop to watch. Funny little creatures they are. As we walk back to our room we see there is a resident gecko at almost every lantern. Then we see there is a significant number of flying insects at the lanterns without a squatter. A full belly is a good belly.

The floor is hard. Both R & L and Debbie and I double up our floor mats and sleep on ½ the area thinking this will help protect our hips from the pine floor. I am not sure how hard the floor would be without 2 layers but even with them my hip bones find their way to the floor and every time I turn over I have to adjust my contact spot by mm’s to find an area that does not hurt. The blankets are plenty warm though and all in all I had a good sleep.

Debbie on the other hand has managed to eat something that has given her a bad stomach. She did not eat last night and this morning is wearing a path to the colloquial toilet (squat type outhouse). Not feeling good and not eating is going to make for a lousy hike but there is no choice, we are leaving and the car will be waiting for us. Staying is a poorer option.

The hike is much the same as yesterday. I find this disappointing as I think this would be an excellent trip given better walking conditions. I think I could even put up with the rain if I wasn’t ankle deep in mud. Our journey included one more creek crossing, ankle plus deep but an easy ford. All four of us are a bit concerned as each of us only has one pair of shoes and they are now completely soaked through. We are headed to a hotel room that is suspended over the water and things are not likely to dry easily. It may mean we wear flip flops for the rest of the trip, you know ‘when in Rome’.

Two of the hikers

We arrive at the car meeting place as soaked as we were yesterday at the monastery with a two hour car ride, and 45 min boat ride on the agenda. I do not think this is going to do any of us any good in the staying healthy department but there is little we can do. Debbie is feeling better but not 100%, I think I am on the verge of getting a cold and L is just trying to shake the one she has.

By the time we get to the village of Inle Lake it is past noon and we stop for lunch. This is Wai Yan’s home town and he knows the ins and outs so we end up a good local type restaurant. We have paid for today and tomorrow in the original trip fees so since we decided to change the agenda we expect to have to suck up the cost already paid and to pay for the next two days as well. To our surprise Wai Yan pays for lunch san beverages. When we question him he said he did so on orders from his head office.

The day passes without any major events. Wai Yan wants to do the guide thing and show us what this place has to offer but all we really want to do is clean up, dry out and get warm, which means going straight to the hotel.

On Inle Lake

We do eventually arrive at the hotel and it is an upscale place, definitely above our 3 star standard. The rooms are individual cabins suspended above water each with a good view. The interior is large with enough room to lay out all our gear, dry two umbrellas, hang our laundry and still move around AND there are 4 beds.

Our hotel on the water

Since we arrive late we decide to chill tomorrow and then continue the next day with our itinerary as planned. Even though it was only one night on a wooden floor I’m looking forward to sleeping in a bed.

The Karma has run out. For many years we have pushed the limit on the rainy weather, rainy season in Bhutan, no rain, rainy season in Africa, no rain, Ireland, no rain, The West Coast Trail, no rain. I always tell people I don’t travel in the rain and at the end of the dry trip they believe me. Now, we are in Myanmar; it is the end of the rainy season and for 6 days not a sprinkle. Then yesterday, the day before we are to begin a 3 day hike from the mountains, through the countryside to a lake in the valley, the monsoon that has been tracking the east coast of India enters Myanmar and the rain begins. Last night we thought we might bail and spend a couple of nights in a hotel but this morning we decided to have a go and hit the trail. If things are ugly we can bail tomorrow where the trail crosses the highway.

The rain has almost completely abated. Debbie and I decide we need to stop and buy a couple of cheap ponchos. We neglected to bring ours. It was a weight consideration and also the fact that it is usually stinking hot in SE Asia even if it is raining. Here in Kalaw, at about 4,200 ft above sea level, the climate is quite temperate and with the rain we experienced yesterday we thought Ponchos would be a good investment. Our guide Wai Yan helps us out with the details, no sleeves, a longer back, cheaper and a different color please. We each find one that suits our purpose. The price, 3,500 kaht ($3.50) each, but with my bargaining savvy and the fact that I have to bargain just for the fun of it, I manage to knock $.50 off the price and we get them both for 6,500 kaht.

 We leave town, head back up the hill from whence we came and there at the trail head are 4 porters sitting on the side of the road awaiting our arrival. By 9:30 our troop L, R, Wai Yan, 4 porters, Debbie and I are on the trail. Mud, mud, oh the mud with the deluge there is so much mud, slippery, sticky, sucky mud. Debbie and I are being punished for spending 7 dry days on the West Coast Trail earlier this summer and poor R & L are guilty by association and have to trudge through the mud, walk over wet log bridges and wade through raging torrents of water.

The walk is difficult but interesting. It is very WC Trail like. We have to dip our heads down and watch every step or on our butts we land. The trouble with the walking is we cannot look at the scenery, the big reason we are undertaking this hike in the first place.

View from the Trail

The morning passes quickly and we are right on time for lunch. Lunch is served in a village house. A table is set in the center of the main living space; we all sit around it on a mat on the floor. On the menu is noodle soup, it is hot and tasty and with 2 ½ hours of hiking under our belt we all eat well.

Lunch Stop

Just as we get inside for lunch the rain starts. It builds as we eat and it is raining hard when we head back on the trail. The extra water has a strange affect. There seems to be less mud. It is as if the mud washes away with the fast moving water. The other unusual thing is the amount of water. The ground is not able to absorb the rain fast enough so as we walk there is a sheet of moving liquid surrounding our feet. We are able to travel faster but we are definitely getting wetter. Our ponchos are keeping us dry to the knees and have officially become a good investment.

The Trail

We are now able to hoof it along pretty good. We round a corner and there is a stream crossing our path. It is far too big to jump so it looks like we are going to have to wade across. One of the porters wades across and indicates to follow his path. My shoes are muddy but my feet are dry until now. Up to our knees as we cross the stream, the rushing water washes our pant legs, which is nice but my feet are now squishing in the water in my shoes. 100M farther along and we encounter another unjumpable water course. This one is crazy, it is thigh deep. I manage to get across walking on rocks just under the surface, slipping once but only getting my pant leg wet. R finds a narrowing and with his long legs he jumps from shore to shore. L decides to take the same route. She makes it but barely and we almost lose her to the rapids below. Debbie gets to the edge and balks at the depth; one of the porters picks her up and carries her across the pond. More rain, more mud, and after another hour of trekking we arrive at our digs for the night,  Nan Thale thee Monastery in the hills. Not knowing what to expect, we are quite surprised when Wai Yan leads us to a simple but nice building we have to ourselves. As we sit inside, the rain gets worse.

Monastery where we spend the night

I have never experienced an Asian monsoon and this is just the remnants of a fairly small storm. It’s not the tropical rain I have known that is a downpour for an hour or so then it stops. This rain goes on and on, ebbing and flowing in intensity. I am kind of glad we are on the tail end of the life of this storm – at least we are not house bound.

Not much happin’ at the ‘stery so we sit around and tell stories while our porters prepare dinner. When it arrives it is really good. Ginger tea, bean soup, and a few non spicy curries with rice. We eat and sit around chatting but with only candle light to glare on our retinas it is hard to stay awake and by 8pm we have retired.

Earlier we decided to depart the trail when we cross the highway tomorrow. I will try to scare up enough karma to keep us dry for our last one hour on the trail.