havecarryonwilltravel

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.

Every morning a bus load of monks gets dropped off in Bagan where they go seeking donations of food. As we exit our hotel, we see the monks getting out of the bus down the street from us. The monks walk single file along the street and stop, one by one, at the small table across the street that has been laid out with rice and assorted foods. The owners of the hotel had placed the offerings out prior to the monks arriving. The monks rotate where they seek donations each day– first one street then another then another throughout the week. The older monks go first, followed by younger and younger monks with another older monk playing sweep at the back. Some of the last monks do not get anything at this stop as the donators run out of food to give. Hopefully they will fill there bowls at another stop.

Monks receiving donations in Bagan

We say goodbye to Bagan and our guide Zow. It is unusual for us to have so many guides. Previous trips saw us continue with one guide on the whole journey through a country. In Myanmar, we are getting a new guide every time we change locations. Au, in Mandalay, set the bar pretty high, and Zow didn’t quite reach up to that bar. L called him Mr. Factoid. He knew his temple stuff and he got the picture that we didn’t want to follow the exact tourist trail, but he had some oddities that started driving me crazy (I actually wanted to throttle him when we got to the airport!).

We flow through another airport and surface in Heho to Wai Yan, our next guide. He seems quite nice but he is VERY hard to understand as he places the emPHAsis on difFERent sylAbles for his English words.

We drive for about an hour to visit the Pindaya Caves. The cave is 490 ft under the rock, has stalagmites and stalactites and about 8,000 Bhuddas. We wander the maze looking at the various Buddhas.

Buddha Maze

In one part there is a meditation cave that Murray, Wai Yan and I crawl into. Following us is a Burmese family and once they are seated, they ask if they can take our picture. So they take ours and we take theirs!

Along the way to the restaurant we stop at a workshop that makes traditional Shan paper out of mulberry trees and umbrellas out of bamboo. We agree that as Myanmar becomes more “Westernized” and touristy, this type of traditional handicrafts may disappear, which is unfortunate.

Making traditional Shan paper

Every time we stop at one of these artisan’s shops I am amazed at how the work progresses without safety equipment. If the Alberta Health and Safety inspector showed up he would flip. It is not only at the craft shops where this is apparent, the work sites for heavy industrial type work also lack basic safety. Working on marble with power tools and no ear protection, no safety glasses and no steel toes on their sandals. Roasting peanuts under a reverberant steel roof using a tractor engine with no muffler and all of the belts and gears running the machinery completely exposed ready to grab the workers at the first moment of inattentiveness. I’m sure people get hurt but work goes on.

As I type this post, it is pouring rain outside, part of the typhoon that is circling the Bay of Bengal. I am hoping the rain eases up by morning as we are to start our 3 day trek. It may be a muddy and wet experience. Our West Coat Trial luck may have run out!

I lean over and say to Murray, with a slight lump in my throat, “It has taken me almost 20 years of traveling with you to come to this point.” He smiles and nods at me with understanding in his eyes.

Our excursion today is a trip over to Kyun Thiri Island to walk through a farming village and visit a monastery. We four Canadian travelers love this kind of interaction with the local people. We wave and smile and say Min Ga Lar Par (Good Morning) and take pictures of the village people and observe the goings on in their daily lives. They think it kind of funny that we would want to come see where they live. But I explain to our guide if one of them visited me, I would show them my house, where I work, where I shop and introduce them to my family and friends. It would be no different.

Farm House

We have noticed that a smile goes a long way. Just smile at someone, and say Good Morning in their language and you will get a big beaming smile back. Wave at a child and smile and he/she will surely wave and smile back. I think about how as a tourist, we must show respect, good manners, friendliness and loads of smiles as we wander through people’s lives.

As we come to the edge of the village proper, a fellow on a motorbike stops and invites us to a ceremony for the dedication of new monks’ robes at the local monastery. One lady has sewn new robes for all the monks herself. Our guide asks us if we want to go, as this is a totally spontaneous offer. L and I look at one another and say OK.

Monastery

The monks are gathering for lunch as we arrive at the monastery and we are invited into the main hall where they are eating. It is stifling hot inside and as Mur wanders around taking a few photos, I ask an older lady if I can sit beside her. Big smile! Of course. Next thing we know, someone has brought tea and a few munchies out for us. We sit around the tray and drink the offered tea and sample some very small orange sections. Our guide then tells us we have been invited to share lunch with the lay people and would we like to join them. After a bit of discussion, we agree.

Visiting with the ladies

While the food is finished being cooked, we wait in another part of the monastery. I again go sit with some women and children. L joins me and we ooo and ahh over a couple of the children. I ask our guide to ask one older lady how many children she has. She tells me that she has 7 children and 11 grandchildren. I tell her that I am from a small family and that I have 2 children and no grandchildren yet.

Even though we cannot speak the language, we can tell when something is happening. A buzz builds and then we are told that lunch is ready. We are guided back into the main hall where a table has been laid out with lunch. The food is Myanmar food – rice, clear vegetable soup, 3 meat dishes (chicken, pork, beef) 2 vegetable dishes and some sauces. Most of it is very hot. Unfortunately the meat is not quite chewable. We try small amounts and find items that we can eat so as not to offend our hosts.

L tells me later that the one fellow that seems to be in charge hovered around me like a hawk. Not sure why – maybe my grey hair. He seemed to be quite concerned about what I was eating. The sister of the Abbott also stopped by to make sure I was eating enough. I ask the guide to tell her that I am a little person and so do not eat that much. (I thought I was eating lots!)

After we finished lunch, we were guided to another table where they had laid out dessert for us. Various “Twinky” like cakes, orange pieces, condensed milk like icing and other local delicacies. R experiments the most, I eat the oranges. It was at this point that I leaned over to Murray and made comment I opened with.

When I first started traveling with Murray I would never have done what we had just experienced. Even walking through the village would have been a stretch for me. Over the years, I have gotten more comfortable with interacting with local peoples. I enjoyed our experience today and only wish I could have communicated with the ladies and gentlemen more. This experience will remain one of the highlights of this trip.

After lunch, we say Jay Zoo Demari (Thank You), wave Good bye and take our leave. I smile to myself and think about the journey that took 20 years.

Cooking under a farm house

In the 11th century there were over 13,000 temples in the immediate Bagan area. Today, it is much less as many have succumbed to age and decay. Our day of touring these astonishing structures has us visiting only eight of them.

We start our day climbing the steep steps of Shiwegugyi Temple to marvel at the 360 degree view. We climb to the top, stroll around the perimeter and then climb down, stopping at each tier to see the changing view.

View from on high

Murray and I agree that the view of the temples improves as we descend lower. We snap photo after photo attempting to replicate digitally what we see with our eyes. We notice that Myanmar, and especially Bagan, is very photogenic. So many wonderful views and sights from so many different angles.

Bagan Temples

The next couple of temples (phaya, in Myanmar) have frescos painted on the inside walls that date back to the 11^th and 13^th centuries. There has been some work done to restore the frescos and sometimes it is hard to tell what is original and what is newer.

Shezgion Temple

We visit the “golden dome” of Shezgion Temple. L and I agree that if all the white tourists were taken off the site, there would still be many tourists visiting this temple. Burmese people go “on pilgrimage” and travel to the important temples. It is amazing how many Burmese are traveling around Myanmar visiting these sites. We are asked a couple of times by Burmese if they may take our pictures. We oblige happily and in exchange we take photos of them.

By now the temples are starting to blend together. As I write this I cannot conjure up the visual of the next temple I want to write about. That just means we may have seen too many today. So, instead, a story.

The king was very sick. His youngest, and fourth wife, cared for him with much dedication and he eventually got better. The king was so impressed with this wife’s dedication that asked her what she would like. She replied, “I do not want anything for myself, but I worry about my young son. If you would do me a favour and make him your heir so that he becomes king when you pass, I would be at ease.” (Sounds just like a mother, eh?) He said he would see what he could do. He called his five sons together and asked them if they would all agree to a test to see who should be king, and that whatever this test showed, they would abide by. They all agreed. They sat in a circle and the king dropped a white umbrella in the centre of the circle and whoever the umbrella pointed at would be king. Well, the umbrella pointed at the son of the fourth wife, so he became king! When he was king, he built a gorgeous temple and named it HTILOMINLO. HTI means umbrella, LO means a favour and MIN means king.

Htilominlo Temple

L and I go shopping after. We get intrigued by the tauts selling laquerware and ask our guide to take us to a workshop. We learn about how they make laquerware, the whole process taking about 6 months for small pieces and then we go shopping. It is very informative as I have no idea what went into this artform.

Waiting for sunset

We had decided to watch the sunset from a lesser used temple and head there via a horse cart ride through Old Bagan. Our horse cart driver tells me that he is thankful to us as this is his first fare for today (and it is already 4:00). His English is quite good and we chat away while bumping along. We relax on the heights of the temple and watch the sun slowly sink, sometimes peeking out from the clouds.

It is a day of temples in Bagan and a good day it is.

I’m sleeping hard, totally dead to the world. We are about 12 hours out of sync from where we left 4 days ago. We tried to sleep on the airplane on the way over and did get an hour here and there. We arrived in Bangkok at about 10pm and did manage to get some sleep on and off before having to awake and get on a plane the next morn. In Mandalay I force myself to stay awake till 9:30. I do not remember trying to go to sleep and then it is morning. Each day since I sleep very deeply. For some, jet lag is the cause of much consternation but for me it just provides a platform for 3 nights of tremendous repose.  

This morning I whisper to Debbie we are going to tell Ow that we want to visit a maximum of two temples today. He could pick, but only two. The rest of the time we want to wander a village, check out an oxen cart and visit a farmer’s field. So today we meet Ow and he tells us there is only one temple on the agenda. How did he know? First stop, a peanut roasting place. Shake down and sort the peanuts, roast them and package them. I like peanuts so I am totally cool with this stop.

Then to the vermicelli making establishment. I’ll summarize the visit with this; if you want to continue to eat noodles I would not recommend a trip to a noodle factory.

Temple with over 600,000 Buddhas

The low point of the day is the temple. Not only did I not want to see another damn Buddha, this temple had 582,268 of them. That in fact is the number it had when the temple was first built. No one knows for sure how many there are now. Occasionally for one reason or another, a Buddha disappears from the flock; like each time there is an earthquake one or two fall. Then of course there have been some added over the years. No one is willing to do a count so the exact number today remains a mystery.

We are off to a real village, sounds like something of interest, but we have heard such before in other countries and when we arrive we are met by a group in traditional costumes that soon perform traditional celebration dances and then show us to the traditional craft shop and expect us to believe this is what happens in every village in the country. When the car stops to let us out the only folks here to meet us are a gaggle of village kids. Rough and dirty in street clothes just like any little kid would be in back home. The difference for the ones in traditional Myanmar clothing is it is their everyday wear. The other kids are in blue jeans and t-shirts. There are no other tourists around and there is no grand theatre or souvenir shop.  We wander up and down the street talking to ordinary people and observing how they live and work.

One family of farmers makes incense sticks in the off season and are gathered inside making paste and rolling the paste onto a stick with a machine similar to what my grandfather used to roll cigarettes. Another fellow is busy making teak furniture. Not the kind westerners are used to, much rougher and more utilitarian but sturdy and useful. At the kitchen table of another house is an older teen boy working on the ubiquitous laptop doing physics.  Their life seems pleasant enough, the people we meet are happy and none of them look short of what they need. As we prepare to leave we realize another tourist bus has pulled in. So the village is on some part of the T. trail but it is not crowded and I do believe none of what we see is staged.

Cooking Stones

Life seems pretty relaxed here. There are not many people one would call destitute but a good number of people have time to chill. They must put in time at making a living at some point but wherever there are people there are those that are involved in pursuits of personal interest, chatting, fence making, metaphorical coffee, midday soccer games, day dreaming.

Today in two different spots the highway has been flooded. Not deep but still covered in water. The roads are good but not perfect and there are a few holes that are best missed, much like the roads in Edmonton. So, at each flooded spot there are 3 or 4 guys wading back and forth in front of the vehicles guiding them past the potholes by feeling them out and then directing the cars past the danger. They are doing this as a free public service. They are filling some of that chill time with a very valuable public service and at the end of the day they will have some good stories to tell I’m sure.

There are also an inordinate number of celebrations. Whole families and groups of friends are out midday, midweek celebrating one thing or another, a young boy is inducted to be a monk, a wedding, a coming out type party for a young girl. All this when from a westerner’s point of view these folks should be working but these events are important and obviously important enough for large groups to put all else aside and gather.

Ow fills me in on the difference between Myanmar (pronounced; Me an mar) and Burma. Myanmar is the country. Burma and more properly Burmese is the people. The rest of the world seems to have a problem with the country being called Myanmar but that is what the people here call their own country. It is not a name forced upon them, it is THE name.

Today is the last day with Ow. We are going to the jetty to connect with a different guide, Zawmaung, Zaw to us, and a boat to transport us on the  Ayeyarwady River to Bagan and literally 6,000 temples. I sure hope there are a few that are exciting enough to tweak some interest. The ride on the river is peaceful except for the exposed unmufflered engine making an extraordinary amount of noise.

Boating down the river

We arrive in Bagan and it is back to the land of the tourist. The tourist trail in Myanmar is well defined and we will have very little opportunity to duck away and see what has not been already prepped for our arrival. We walk up the river bank and have to run a gauntlet of tauts and we repeat our mantra, Ya day, Ya day, Ya day, over and over until we reach our car. (Ya day is our phonetic spelling of No.)

There is not much time left in the day so it is straight to the hotel. We are all too tired to venture far and even though the hotel restaurant is not very interesting we opt to eat there. By 7:45 we are finished eating and every one of us is nodding at the table. My deep sleep is great but it does not seem to be helping me at the other end. Debbie and I have some chores to do, laundry, the blog, accounting but we do not finish half before we are on the bed and fast asleep. I guess we will have to continue with the theme of the trip and finish tomorrow what we did not get to today.