Bouncy bus to Bagan

"Luxury Coach"

"Luxury Coach"

I woke on time and grabbed my bags. The hostel owner was waiting for me with a small packed breakfast, bless him. I mounted the motorcycle taxi and we nipped off. After five minutes, I was glad I’d dressed in preparation for arctic air-con on the bus as it was pretty cold outside.

After 20 minutes or so, I was dropped at the junction to await the Bagan bus which sets off from Taunggyi. Roughly twenty minutes late, it arrived and at least I knew that air-con wouldn’t be a worry. It was a “midi-bus”, larger than a mini but maybe half the size of a luxury coach. It was dented, battered, had stools between the main seats to seat extra people and my rucksack went under the back seats.

The window next to the seat in front of me was missing so the first couple of hours until the sun was well in the sky were freezing. I put my cap on to keep the wind from blowing through (what’s left of) my hair, huddled up and tried to zone out. Sleep was impossible as the roads here are awful. At times I was bounced 2-3 inches out of my seat when we hit a particularly large pothole.

As we travelled, we picked up more passengers. Amazingly, at points I do think I nodded off or at least figured out how to meditate as time seemed to disappear in jumps. I didn’t get many children waving at me from the roadside as I think it took them a while to register that it was a strange bearded foreigner in the bus bouncing past.

If I did this trip again, it’s one thing I think I would change. Go to Inle Lake first, then hike the opposite direction to Kalaw. First of all, the coach to Inle from Yangon costs the same as the coach to Kalaw and it’s a better bus than this one. Then, when you get to the junction there will be more transport waiting, and it’ll be a more reasonable hour (around 7am) which means the journey into Nyaungshwe will be cheaper than the 4500K I paid to get out at 5am. The trek should be comparable in price, as would the bus from Kalaw to Bagan. However, as you’d be getting onto the same one I was currently on, you’d get a couple of hours more sleep as we didn’t pass through Kalaw until around 7:30am.

We drove down mountain roads having to pull over for trucks as usually only half of the route had any kind of tarmac on it at all. Sometimes we passed them on the left, sometimes the right. Sometime around midday, we had a stretch of decent road as we were close the the main highway – Route 1 – that links Yangon and Mandalay. Aside from the 8-lane superhighway which feeds off here to the new capital of Naypyidaw (and along which only private cars are allowed to travel) this is the only decent stretch of road in the country.

Just outside Nyaung U, we stopped at a security point where someone rapped on my window. Foreigners must pay $10 to visit Bagan and this was where I had to cough up so that the generals’ daughters can have nice, swish weddings while their people starve. Needless to say, I tried to wheedle out of it by giving them five $1 bills and $5 bill with a tear in it. Which tehey refused to accept. I told them this was all I had and they told me I had to sort the permit once I got to my guest house. Yeah, sure.

In total, the journey took almost spot on 12 hours. My bum was sore by the time we pulled in near the market in Nyaung U. Note that this isn’t the bus station marked on the Lonely Planet map, but a distance off to the east. As ever, I was hounded with “Do you need guest house?”, “No”, “Can you tell me where you are staying, then?”, “No” and so on. I collected my bag – which was coated in a thick layer of dust – and started walking towards the Pann Cherry which I’d picked from Lonely Planet.

On the way, I was tailed by a sai-kay (side car pedalo) who said he’d get commission if he dropped me off there, which seemed nice and honest. I hopped in and we got there in a couple of minutes. And then I found out I had a small problem. Nobody checks your permit while you’re in Bagan, although you “must” have one as a foreigner. The way the government works it is that you can’t check in to any guest house without one. Well, you can – but if the inspectors turn up and an owner has housed a foreigner who doesn’t have a permit then the owner gets in trouble.

Long story short, Pann Cherry wouldn’t take me in unless I went back to the way station to get a permit.

However, Pyinsa Rupa down the road would. As long as I gave them the $10 so they could sort the permit out for me, which was fine. They also have aircon and hot water in their $4 rooms, so they’re a step up from Pann Cherry anyway. Also, the staff speak far better English and the manager sat up for ages with me later that evening telling me where to go in Mandalay as he’s from the old (old) capital.

Restaurant Row

Restaurant Row

It was getting on, so I settled in and enjoyed a terrific hot shower. The electric started to get a little dodgy, which is pretty much routine around here, so I went for a walk to Restaurant Row where I picked out the excellently named Wonderful Tasty. An Indian set menu cost me 3500K with the chicken tandoori and it was fantastic. I’m no curry expert, and this wasn’t spicy enough for a tandoori, but it tasted great and came with as much chappati and rice as I could plough through. A shame the Star Cola was warm, but the setting was lovely and the staff attentive. So add that one to the choices laid out in Lonely Planet, where it’s not mentioned (yet).

Finally, I headed back to the guest house for some much-needed rest. My backside felt like it had been tenderised by a professional chef and I intended to wake early the next morning to see sunrise at one of the 4400 temples in the area.

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Boat trip on Inle Lake

Who needs arms?

Who needs arms?

It seemed a shame to come to somewhere this nice and not see the lake, so I opted to join Mark and the Poles (and the other Polish couple who I’d shared the bus to Kalaw with – they were in the same guest house) on a day trip. They’d haggled a price of 15000K for a boat for the day, which is – from what I gather – the upper end of reasonable.

Of course, it meant a moderately early rise. I got up and had breakfast which was plentiful and delicious – possibly the best scrambled eggs I’ve had in a long time. As I was getting ready to head out, the guest house owner knocked on my door and offered to move me upstairs to a nicer room at no extra charge – en-suite and so forth. Sadly, I only had five minutes to make my way to my meeting point and my stuff was all over the room as I was doing a major re-pack, so I had to turn him down.

Boat gridlock

Boat gridlock

As it turned out, I may well have had time as the Poles were still eating breakfast (and continued to do so) for about ten minutes after I met them! Shortly, we all walked down to the riverside and tentatively stepped on board the narrow boat that we knew wouldn’t tip over… but didn’t trust nevertheless.

The first stage of the journey was a long one down towards the southern end of the lake. As we travelled, we saw quite a few fisherman with the unique leg-rowing action and conical fishing net/cage structures. We asked about these cones with nets inside and they’re dropped onto fish which the fisherman sees. As the water is quite shallow, this traps the fish and he can then spear it from above more easily.

No blood was shed

No blood was shed

There is a market which changes location from day to day and this was our first port of call. Boats were berthed three or four deep and traders were rowing speedily towards arriving tourists so they could get the first sale in before the foreigners even found land. On shore, the nearest stalls were all selling much the same tourist tat as we’d come to expect, but further in was a lot more interesting – and photogenic.

Silk from flowers

Silk from flowers

Small children ran round as their mothers shopped in the fresh fruit “department”, and a whole “aisle” was made up of shops selling nothing but 1-foot-diameter rice cakes of various types. Household goods were elsewhere, small restaurants dotted about and one lone hardware shop was located more or less in the centre. Fresh fish was, unsurprisingly, near the water’s edge and very crowded.

At the far end, the market ended and a small village began. At this edge, a row of barber shops was resident and I saw people with scissors eyeing up my beard. I moved swiftly on with Mark in tow and located a cock fight. Bizarrely, no money was changing hands, and – fortunately – the birds hadn’t been fitted with any weaponry as I believe is the case in some places. Instead, the birds were squared up to each other – much as they would do in a farmyard – until their feathers stood on end. I’ve never seen an angry cockerel (Mark would call them “roosters”) before. They’re every impressive.

Guns in a temple?

Guns in a temple?

The birds would then circle and flap at each other a lot for a couple of minutes until one had an obvious advantage over the other. At this point, before either animal was hurt, the fight was ended. And no money continued to not change hands. It all just seemed a matter of pride for the owners.

I did pick up a couple of souvenirs. Some old cash (an enormous 100 Kyat note and a Japanese Rupee note from WWII) and some trinkets for the family back home. I spread my spending over a few retailers, who needed the “lucky money” as their first sales of the day. I’m keeping my eye out for some 45- and 90-Kyat notes at a reasonable price. No reason other than they’d make nice keepsakes. Name me another country with currency issued in 45- and 90-unit denominations!

Melting silver

Melting silver

Stop number two was a silkworks, where imported silkworm silk and loaclly-gathered lotus flower silk is woven to make various products. The lotus variety is very expensive as the flowers aren’t exactly common. The end products are also more rough-looking than their worm-born equivalent, but that’s just my opinion. As well as a look at the gathering, weaving and dying procedures we ended up in a showroom for a while. Some pieces were around $200, others a very reasonable $5 or $7. Regardless, clothing isn’t something I’m after so – along with the rest of the group – I left without buying anything.

Next up, after a sail around some villages on stilts with gorgeous kids waving at us, was lunch. I think we spent most of the morning in the boat, but there’s still a lot to see without stepping ashore anywhere.

View from above

View from above

After lunch we were taken to a rather large and glitzy pagoda, and were beaten there by a bunch of very self-important oiks in uniforms who paraded ashore in their finery, likely paid for by drug money from China. I don’t think they noticed that when I was waving at them, I was only using one finger. Actually, this was quite good as half of the entourage were armed with machine guns and bandoliers of what looked like grenades. You’d almost think they were unpopular.

The pagoda was nice, but we spent most of our time trying to get photos of the men in uniform precisely because this was something we weren’t supposed to do.

No irrigation needed

No irrigation needed

Back on board, we went past the floating gardens (why irrigate when you can plant your tomato crop on the lake?) and pulled into a silversmith’s workshop. Again, we got a quick look at the manufacturing process from smelting (or the silver equivalent) to filing and carving. And then into a shop. I popped outside and stood on a lovely wooden bridge instead. Well, I don’t “do” jewellery and if I did they don’t take Visa here anyway.

Boat-bound again we drifted past a large collection of stupas and into the umbrella factory. I guess we’d call them parasols as they’re designed to keep the sun off rather than the rain. The construction process is pretty impresive – even the paper is hand-made from tree bark before being spread and dried, then fitted to the framework. The end result is hefty and not too expensive.

They're cute everywhere

They're cute everywhere

Oh, we visited a tobacco / cheroot manufacturer as well but I didn’t bother taking pictures and stayed outside while everyone else puffed on free samples. Traditional or not, smoking still stinks.

Our final stop was the Nga Phe Kyaung, more commonly called the “Jumping Cat Monastery” in the tour books. As a monastery, it’s pretty standard. But they have cats. That jump. Through hoops vertically placed above their heads. Which is pretty cool, really.

Cats. Hoops. Bounce.

Cats. Hoops. Bounce.

One of the monks got talking to Mark after the usual “where you come from?” questions. It then got al political as we met about the only person outside of the US Bible Belt who actually likes George Bush and McCain. And he’s a monk. Well, they do say that the news coverage in this country is skewed somewhat. I still find it bonkers that a person who lives a life of peace and non-violence with no luxury can side with a greedy war-monger.

On the way back, we made one final stop in the middle of the lake so that four numpties could jump out of the boat and swim around for a bit. I was not one of those numpties! To be honest, I was more bothered about getting back into the boat than jumping out and it was a little hairy as three Poles and an American heaved themselves back about. And I panicked about my passport being in my pocket.

Dry-weather umbrellas

Dry-weather umbrellas

Half an hour later and we heaved back to “port” without paying the $3 levy that we’re supposed to simply for being in the area. It’s not well checked around Inle Lake and I didn’t even see where you’re supposed to buy the things. Regardless, the locals won’t see a penny of it anyway so if you are in the area do your best to avoid it. You’re only buying caviar for a drug baron.

Dinner that evening was really enjoyable. We picked a restaurant – Miss Nyaung Shwe on Phaung Daw Seiq Road – and they agreed to make some dishes that weren’t on their actual menu, in particular a peanut curry. We ordered and then headed to our hotels to get ready.

Back at Gypsy, I met the smiling owner again at reception as I organised my bus ticket for the nexy day. He quoted me 12,500K which was lowest price I’d been given so far and I opted for it. Roughly 1000K an hour is what you get to expect for bus trips. However, he couldn’t help with a motorbike to the junction 10km away where the bus stops – only with a taxi which was 2-3 times the cost. However, he did tell me to use the shower in his house as it had hot water. Star.

Very cheap!

Very cheap!

After wandering the streets round the market trying to find someone with a motorbike who’d give me a lift in the morning (it was too late and most people had gone home), I used a travel shop near Mister Cook on Phaung Daw Pyan who charged me a hefty 4500K. I’d expected to pay no more than 3000K even given the 4:30am start, but I guess if you go through a third party then they’ll want their percentage.

Dinner was great. I had a very nice chicken curry and a banana/chocolate pancake. Including a beer it came to 7000K – on the upper side of reasonable, but there’s no denying the quality of both the food and service. It was a good night, and a parting of the ways for most of us as we’d be heading different directions over the coming days.

I headed “home” to pack and put my head down for a few hours with my alarm set for 4:15am. Argh.

[The following video can be viewed in hi-def by going here]

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Kalaw to Inle Lake – day 3

The cock and flowers

The cock and flowers

We were woken at 5am by the younger monks chanting. Fortunately I had my earplugs in so managed to drift off again until 7am when we all got up for breakfast. The aim was to set off relatively early and get to the market town on the south of Inle Lake for lunch and to catch our boat to Nyaungshwe.

We, of course, met more children on the way who delighted in seeing their pictures on the backs of our digital cameras. It was particularly hot, but we made it in good time to browse the (touristy) market and relax with lunch and blisters.

Michael dug out his laptop to show us the photos of their trip through Pakistan. Soon, we had a crowd of around 10 locals nosing in! Unlike many other countries, though, there was no threat of it being stolen.

Bushfire

Bushfire

At around 1pm we boarded our narrow boat an hour-long trip up the lake, passing buffalo being bathed and fishermen doing what fishermen do best (the good ones, anyway).

Finally at Nyaungshwe we split up to our respective guest houses and said goodbye to Harry – truly an excellent guide and highly recommended. I’d picked Gypsy in on the waterfront to have my bags transported to as I’d been told they had $3 dorms. This turned out to be wrong – they only had rooms. I got a $6 room for $5 after haggling. There were shared facilities and a “hot” shower I tested. It wasn’t that hot, but was better than freezing cold.

Looks thick enough to walk on

Looks thick enough to walk on

I checked in, sorted my stuff, grabbed my towel and shower gel… and watched a staff member beat me into the shower by seconds. Instead, I washed the dust from my trousers and hung them out to dry as I waited for him to finish. After quarter of an hour I finally got in… and the water was freezing. He’s used all the hot!

I met up with Mark and the Polish couple for dinner at Mister Cook where I had an excellent – and reasonably priced – ham pizza. That, a beer and a cola came to 7000K. Steep for dinner in Myanmar but great food.

We arranged to meet at 7:30 the next morning at their guest house for a boat trip of the lake. It had already been organised – by the Polish couple I’d met on the bus to Kalaw the other day!

Camouflage boots and trousers

Camouflage boots and trousers

Rather than finish my book, I took advantage of the working electricity in my room to defy “The Generals” and break the law. I fired up my laptop and watched Rambo 4. The viewing of which is punishable by 5 years in jail here, due to the movie’s anti-Myanmar government stance. Of course, pretty much everyone here with a DVD player has now seen it. Well, you have to if someone tells you you’re not allowed.

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Kalaw to Inle Lake – day 2

Collecting firewood

Collecting firewood

More awesome scenery and dust. We came across a couple more villages populated by different “tribes” though the major differences between them lay predominantly in their clothes. Their languages could perhaps have differed, but as I don’t know them I couldn’t tell!

In one, a bunch of children were poking and scratching at my Newcastle tattoo to see if it would come off. As we left, one boy ran up and gently tugged at my beard. I guess he thought that was false, too!

That tree... that sky...

That tree... that sky...

In a later village an old lady was working on a loom as the village kids played around her. She offered me a gorgeous kitten as a gift but sadly I had to decline. Madame Polska was intrigued by her earrings which looked like large balls of pink fluff – but not danglies, more like “button” earrings. The old lady offered them to her and removed them… to reveal holes in her ears about 1.5cm in diamater through which the material had been bundled! Hence the ear decor was of no use to Madame Polska.

Smile!

Smile!

Lunch was in another village in a dark room in which was stored a huge vat filled with peanuts. I think I ate more of these than I did of the lunch. They were lovely! A young boy hung around as we ate and kept looking at the food until we told him we was welcome to join in at which point he devoured what was left of our watermelon.

On the way to our resting spot for the night, we passed two old ladies carrying an impressive amount of stuff on their heads. They saw me putting suncream on and asked if they could try some. The Burmese version of this – thanaka – stays visible and apparently also helps prevent spots as well as being decorative. They were rather taken with the invisible variety!

Vanishing thanaka

Vanishing thanaka

Dinner and rest was at a monastery. When we arrived, Harry pointed out a nearby shop with tables outside from where we could get a cold(ish) beer and some snacks. Mark and i were there barefoot in seconds as putting our boots back on would have taken too long.

We each sank a Mandalay Red Label (7% and 1500K) and grabbed water and munchies. Anna, Michael and Harry joined us shortly as we waited for dinner to be prepared.

As usual, the food was fantastic. I sucked the chilli off parts of my chicken so I could feed some of it to a little kitten who joined us. We talked for some time until the group split up and just Harry and I were left. We retired at about 9pm as the monks themselves went to bed and the electricity was turned off.

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Kalaw to Inle Lake – day 1

At the viewpoint

At the viewpoint

I woke early despite the 5am arrival time and enjoyed a fantastic hot shower. Worth the $5 alone! Over breakfast I was co-erced onto the three-day trek as I’d have to wait a couple of days for another two-day one to set off. The cost was $10 a day for the guide (and food and accommodation), $4 for my bags to be shipped to Inle Lake and $4 for the boat trip from the bottom of the lake to Nyaungshwe where the hotels are.

It was a nice, small group: Harry, the guide; Anna and Michael from Poland (more Poles!); Mark from Texas; and another Polish lady who’s name nobody got. I shall call her Madame Polska.

The three day route actually starts off heading west away from Inle Lake to take in one village and some of the local culture. We’d actually be spending the night more or less due south of Kalaw after going round in a “U” shape.

Firt hilltop view past Kalaw

Firt hilltop view past Kalaw

It’s dry season and the roads were bumpy and dusty. In some places the dust was so deep that stepping in it made it “splash” in much the way water does from a shallow puddle. It’s also a lovely, rusty red like that of the Australian Outback.

Another thing that the country here shares with the Outback if the most amazing blue skies. I guess “azure” is one word, but I just don’t think any language can do justice to the colour.

Cute kids!

Cute kids!

Not far from where we began, we walked past some “roadworks”. About twenty locals were creating a proper paved road out of their own pockets. The government couldn’t be bothered helping them (forking out for flamboyant weddings for their offspring is deemed far more important) so they’d purchased and manufactured all the required equipment and materials themselves. From the tarmac bubbling in oil drums that had been cut open to stone graders made from metal with varying sized holes punched in it. May of the workers were female, probably around 80%.

We also passed a surprising amount of vegetation which seemed healthy despite the heat. Huge banyan trees, various cacti and occasional blooms randomly poking from the arid soil.

That fantastic blue

That fantastic blue

At around midday we stopped for lunch at a viewpoint used by a few trekking groups. Our food was served up – fresh fruit, a salad, a mild curry and as much green tea as we could drink. We spent an hour eating and chilling before pressing on.

Almost every local we passed had a smile and a wave, the children in particular. Madame Polska had brought pens which Harry dished out to the children along with medicines, toothpaste and the like which he himself had brought.

Towards the end of the day we got a chance to take some photos of one of the local trains as it pulled into a station we happened to be at. The guards (in fact anyone in uniform in this country) don’t like having their photos taken. So we made sure and took plenty as serupticiously as we could.

Myanmar flag

Myanmar flag

We arrived at our home for the evening at around 5pm as the sun started to dip. A couple of small houses surrounded by farmland. Our hosts had laid out sleeping mats and three thick blankets for each of us. Given that it was still very hot, this seemed overly generous, but we were to need them!

Our travelling chef – who we found out hiked ahead of us – prepared a buffet dinner of fish curry (argh), mountain rice, chilli paste (hot!), fried vegetables and many other things. As at lunchtime there was more food than we could eat – though Anna and Mark tried their best!

Look at me in my uniform

Look at me in my uniform

We all filtered bed-wards over the coming hours as darkness fell and the electricity was switched off. Mark and I lay one of our blankets each underneath us, folded up, as protection for our bony hips. It was better than nothing, but sacrificed some of the covering we needed once the temperature plumetted in the early hours.

It was really cold!

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