...Has many potholes. I took the good karma private bus, (also cheaper than the shorter, but apparently heroin cartel owned airline) which also meant being up at the crack of dawn, (5am) although the monsoon rain drumming the tin roof is what really woke me up even before the alarm. Took a taxi to the bus station, (an hour away!) where I was again rather a spectacle. as the only white foreigner in the place. The drive out was beautiful though, past endless pagodas and monks and nuns making their rounds for alms (the monks here wear the deep reds, the nuns an amazing bright pink). And they were even making the trick-or-treat rounds at the bus station. The other women women in the "waiting room" (read: plastic lawn chairs on dirt floor) all unsnapped their pocketbooks and handed over a hundred kyat or two to the begging young monks, and I didn't have any small bills but they turned up their nose at my Oreo offering. Bus station was your standard developing country bus station, kids selling gum and old women selling fruit, but a lot more monks wandering around, and the dust mostly settled by the night's rain.
The bus station had a TV which showed a local Sayadaw preaching and praying, kind of incredible, as various people came by and blessed the bus. Washing it, placing elaborate flower bouquets in the wipers and antenna and making other offerings for the journey, which really did kind of reassure me. I don't know whether such blessings work on the bus, but I truly believe they work on the people- reminding the drivers to be cautious. Once on the bus it was more prayers on the TV, before it settled in to terrible Burmese sitcoms and soap operas. Landscape was mostly empty, a few water buffalo and oxcarts from time to time, rice paddies, and the occasional village with bamboo huts, not even a corrugated metal roof in sight. This country was once the rice basket of Asia before the military completely mismanaged the economy.
The guy next to me was eager to practice English and immediately asked me for my facebook and gmail addresses, and wanting to hang out in Mandalay (how they have facebook access here but not in China I do not understand...). He also insisted on buying lunch at the bus stop, which I refused, although he then made me promise to let him buy me dinner in Mandalay, to which I reluctantly agreed , figuring I'd never see him again. He was also quite eager to talk about Buddhism and Christianity, he was Christian, though we were able to agree that they both valued the same things, but there we were a Burmese Kachin Christian and a White American Buddhist on the road to Mandalay. Not much else to report, a few checkpoints, some bags for people to spit betel juice into, and a 200kyat note that sat on the floor of the bus the whole time, no one touching it until I handed it to the driver at the end of the trip who put it on the dash. Weird, people do seem scrupulously honest here.
My moto ride from bus to guesthouse was relatively easy, I have to say, there is nothing like the feeling of arriving at a dusty baking bus stop in some developing country, and riding on the back of a motorbike with a backpack slung over each shoulder, just hoping you get to your destination. My hotel is decent, with a few other foreigners about, including an interesting retired Aussie schoolteacher who now works in Dharamsala, and a few younger backpackers. Connected with a German guy and Chinese woman for dinner at the local chapati stand on the corner. This place was a sight, tables a foot off the ground, sitting on buckets, steaming buckets of curry kept hot by burning wood, women rolling out chapatis and sneezing into them, while the waitstaff was literally a bunch of kids running slamming chapatis down in front of us with the utmost efficiency accompanying their world weary looks.
The next day the German and Chinese and I split a "taxi" to a few of the ancient cities around Mandalay. By taxi, we were expecting, well a taxi. What we got was essentially if Mini Cooper made a pickup truck, you would about get the idea. The cab was about four feet long and three feet wide which the three of us managed to cram into. The spedomoeter was covered up- just a sticker with a picture of Buddha and no idea of how fast we were going. But the sights we did see were impressive! First up was the U Bein bridge, the worlds longest teak bridge, almost a mile. It may not sound that amazing, but it really was beautiful, going over a lake and basically connecting two monasteries, making for ample photo ops and swarms of dragonflies flitting about. Little stalls along the way sold food, knick-knacks like wallets and purses made of watermelon seeds, t-shirts that read "Souvenir of U Bein" or read fortunes (seriously the astrology/fortune telling thing here is huge...). The temple on the opposite side was very strange, with rather kitschy miniature replicas of many great Buddhist sites (Golden rock, etc) of Burma, which gave it a bit of a mini-golf course feel, but was overall pretty cool, with great views from atop a tower, and a somewhat more Tibetan feel to it architecturally. The driver we had, Mr. To, was not very pushy, and stopped at a shop or two, but they were generally interesting- a gold leaf factory where we could see people hammering sheets of gold, a carving workshop with some incredible puppets and wooden statues, and a Lyongy (sort of sarong) factory, where women clacked away on wooden looms with bamboo pedals that looked straight out of the industrial revolution. My German compatriot bought a few and also told me an amusing story about buying the sandlewood makeup at the market, with plenty of advice from various local women telling him the relative merits of each type. He was planning to be a "Burmese Person" for Halloween. I neglected to point out the poor taste of anyone, let alone a German making such an ill-advised costume choice. From there it was more temples and monasteries, arriving at one larger one just in time to see the monks lining up silently for lunch, about 2000 of them silently and patiently standing in line, a river of that dark red and saffron. Our lunch was a little iffy. I tried what I thought was fish curry, (passing on the jellyfish salad) and was pretty tasty, only to realize that it was in fact mutton brain. In general, I tend not to totally freak out about this kind of thing, but I was frankly terrified of getting hoof-in-mouth disease or something, and so spent the remainder of lunchtime throwing up in a bamboo outhouse, the further details of which I will spare you. I just sat and nursed my rolex brand water and nibbled on a few candied chestnuts (delish!) and felt awkward amongst my companions, and ardered a coke for my tummy. Yes, I thought I could finally get to a coca-cola free country, but they smuggle in Thai coke from Thailand! (Though no McDonald's here... yet!)
Onward from there down dirt roads, past small stores and juice stands, locals carrying bundled sticks, weaving past pickups and trucks overflowing with monks, nuns and other passengers, sitting on the roof, hanging off the edges, and waving to us. First one person would notice, nudge their friend, smile, we'd wave, they'd wave back and smile, it was impossible not to get joy from the simple human connection of seeing someone who looks so different, but taking such mutual pleasure in a wave and shout of 'hallooooo'.
Our final destination was another ancient capital of Burma, this one that required a teak boat ride to an island where the capital had been, and then haggling for a donkey cart to take us around the dusty as there were no cars. (Note to self and others, do not get on a donkey cart ever again, especially with two other people and driven by a seven year old) It was even more impressive, and great to be the only people at ruined old pagodas and temples, tumbling around in a donkey cart even smaller than our "taxi." Climbed a spectacular old very-leaning tower, where we were chased by a few adorable girls selling jade necklaces shouting "okay hello you buy!" up the tower, around the tower, down the tower, on bike trying to catch up with our donkey cart, smiling and laughing and shouting "two thousand!" holding up two fingers...
Back to the hotel to find a note from my bus-mate who was apparently making good on his promise. Actually ended up running into him at the Chapati stand and feeling terrible, though we decided to have him take me to Mandalay hill on his motorbike, which was today's activity. The chapati stand around the corner seems to be the local favorite among the city's Muslims, Hindus, Buddhists and backpackers. (In general, the best food seems to be in these Indian joints that are always nearby to the Hindu temples, and sure beats more tea leaf salad , fermented bamboo and fried noodles with cabbage), The place is a bunch of women slapping out chapati dough in front of bubbling vats of curry, just out on the sidewalk and spilling knee-high tables with buckets for chairs into the street. The waitstaff are all under ten years old, and are constantly sneezing into the food, and wiping their hands on their filthy shirts in a world weary manner. For change, they don't always have exact, bills so they augment with a random few pieces of candy, a package of instant coffee, a few cigarettes, or a packet of tissues. Locals get chapati and curry scooped into plastic bags, and a lighter hangs from a tree to light cigarettes. Its great, except for the nasty cold I got from eating there, that I'm still nursing a few days later in Bagan. The other evening activity was taking in a dissident comedy show by the (in)famous moustache brothers who are currently under house arrest after years in prison for making jokes about the government. I can't say it was funny- the humor was not-so-fresh, but I can say it was fascinating, though strange, watching them play clips of American celebrities talking about them and fast forwarding clips about the horrors of the Burmese government, which was all a little odd to try to be laughing after speeches about child soldiers.
And Mandalay hill the next morning was impressive. I cant deny that pagoda/buddha/temple fatigue is rapidly setting in, but climbing to the top of the hill, (which the Buddha himself apparently climbed with Ananda some 2500 years ago) with thousands of pilgrims and not a westerner in sight was fantastic, if claustrophobic, and some great views over the city, to the royal palace in the center, and stupas dotting the landscape for miles out to the mountains that begin the Himalayan foothills. It was unbelievably crowded due to the fact that the full moon apparently merits a national holiday off from work here in Burma (the astrology thing again!) , and thus a long weekend and sightseeing for the locals. From there to another strange temple, featuring the worlds biggest book that's the Buddhist canon inscribed on marble in thousands of stupas. (more details to come, but my hour is up.)
The bus station had a TV which showed a local Sayadaw preaching and praying, kind of incredible, as various people came by and blessed the bus. Washing it, placing elaborate flower bouquets in the wipers and antenna and making other offerings for the journey, which really did kind of reassure me. I don't know whether such blessings work on the bus, but I truly believe they work on the people- reminding the drivers to be cautious. Once on the bus it was more prayers on the TV, before it settled in to terrible Burmese sitcoms and soap operas. Landscape was mostly empty, a few water buffalo and oxcarts from time to time, rice paddies, and the occasional village with bamboo huts, not even a corrugated metal roof in sight. This country was once the rice basket of Asia before the military completely mismanaged the economy.
The guy next to me was eager to practice English and immediately asked me for my facebook and gmail addresses, and wanting to hang out in Mandalay (how they have facebook access here but not in China I do not understand...). He also insisted on buying lunch at the bus stop, which I refused, although he then made me promise to let him buy me dinner in Mandalay, to which I reluctantly agreed , figuring I'd never see him again. He was also quite eager to talk about Buddhism and Christianity, he was Christian, though we were able to agree that they both valued the same things, but there we were a Burmese Kachin Christian and a White American Buddhist on the road to Mandalay. Not much else to report, a few checkpoints, some bags for people to spit betel juice into, and a 200kyat note that sat on the floor of the bus the whole time, no one touching it until I handed it to the driver at the end of the trip who put it on the dash. Weird, people do seem scrupulously honest here.
My moto ride from bus to guesthouse was relatively easy, I have to say, there is nothing like the feeling of arriving at a dusty baking bus stop in some developing country, and riding on the back of a motorbike with a backpack slung over each shoulder, just hoping you get to your destination. My hotel is decent, with a few other foreigners about, including an interesting retired Aussie schoolteacher who now works in Dharamsala, and a few younger backpackers. Connected with a German guy and Chinese woman for dinner at the local chapati stand on the corner. This place was a sight, tables a foot off the ground, sitting on buckets, steaming buckets of curry kept hot by burning wood, women rolling out chapatis and sneezing into them, while the waitstaff was literally a bunch of kids running slamming chapatis down in front of us with the utmost efficiency accompanying their world weary looks.
The next day the German and Chinese and I split a "taxi" to a few of the ancient cities around Mandalay. By taxi, we were expecting, well a taxi. What we got was essentially if Mini Cooper made a pickup truck, you would about get the idea. The cab was about four feet long and three feet wide which the three of us managed to cram into. The spedomoeter was covered up- just a sticker with a picture of Buddha and no idea of how fast we were going. But the sights we did see were impressive! First up was the U Bein bridge, the worlds longest teak bridge, almost a mile. It may not sound that amazing, but it really was beautiful, going over a lake and basically connecting two monasteries, making for ample photo ops and swarms of dragonflies flitting about. Little stalls along the way sold food, knick-knacks like wallets and purses made of watermelon seeds, t-shirts that read "Souvenir of U Bein" or read fortunes (seriously the astrology/fortune telling thing here is huge...). The temple on the opposite side was very strange, with rather kitschy miniature replicas of many great Buddhist sites (Golden rock, etc) of Burma, which gave it a bit of a mini-golf course feel, but was overall pretty cool, with great views from atop a tower, and a somewhat more Tibetan feel to it architecturally. The driver we had, Mr. To, was not very pushy, and stopped at a shop or two, but they were generally interesting- a gold leaf factory where we could see people hammering sheets of gold, a carving workshop with some incredible puppets and wooden statues, and a Lyongy (sort of sarong) factory, where women clacked away on wooden looms with bamboo pedals that looked straight out of the industrial revolution. My German compatriot bought a few and also told me an amusing story about buying the sandlewood makeup at the market, with plenty of advice from various local women telling him the relative merits of each type. He was planning to be a "Burmese Person" for Halloween. I neglected to point out the poor taste of anyone, let alone a German making such an ill-advised costume choice. From there it was more temples and monasteries, arriving at one larger one just in time to see the monks lining up silently for lunch, about 2000 of them silently and patiently standing in line, a river of that dark red and saffron. Our lunch was a little iffy. I tried what I thought was fish curry, (passing on the jellyfish salad) and was pretty tasty, only to realize that it was in fact mutton brain. In general, I tend not to totally freak out about this kind of thing, but I was frankly terrified of getting hoof-in-mouth disease or something, and so spent the remainder of lunchtime throwing up in a bamboo outhouse, the further details of which I will spare you. I just sat and nursed my rolex brand water and nibbled on a few candied chestnuts (delish!) and felt awkward amongst my companions, and ardered a coke for my tummy. Yes, I thought I could finally get to a coca-cola free country, but they smuggle in Thai coke from Thailand! (Though no McDonald's here... yet!)Onward from there down dirt roads, past small stores and juice stands, locals carrying bundled sticks, weaving past pickups and trucks overflowing with monks, nuns and other passengers, sitting on the roof, hanging off the edges, and waving to us. First one person would notice, nudge their friend, smile, we'd wave, they'd wave back and smile, it was impossible not to get joy from the simple human connection of seeing someone who looks so different, but taking such mutual pleasure in a wave and shout of 'hallooooo'.
Our final destination was another ancient capital of Burma, this one that required a teak boat ride to an island where the capital had been, and then haggling for a donkey cart to take us around the dusty as there were no cars. (Note to self and others, do not get on a donkey cart ever again, especially with two other people and driven by a seven year old) It was even more impressive, and great to be the only people at ruined old pagodas and temples, tumbling around in a donkey cart even smaller than our "taxi." Climbed a spectacular old very-leaning tower, where we were chased by a few adorable girls selling jade necklaces shouting "okay hello you buy!" up the tower, around the tower, down the tower, on bike trying to catch up with our donkey cart, smiling and laughing and shouting "two thousand!" holding up two fingers...Back to the hotel to find a note from my bus-mate who was apparently making good on his promise. Actually ended up running into him at the Chapati stand and feeling terrible, though we decided to have him take me to Mandalay hill on his motorbike, which was today's activity. The chapati stand around the corner seems to be the local favorite among the city's Muslims, Hindus, Buddhists and backpackers. (In general, the best food seems to be in these Indian joints that are always nearby to the Hindu temples, and sure beats more tea leaf salad , fermented bamboo and fried noodles with cabbage), The place is a bunch of women slapping out chapati dough in front of bubbling vats of curry, just out on the sidewalk and spilling knee-high tables with buckets for chairs into the street. The waitstaff are all under ten years old, and are constantly sneezing into the food, and wiping their hands on their filthy shirts in a world weary manner. For change, they don't always have exact, bills so they augment with a random few pieces of candy, a package of instant coffee, a few cigarettes, or a packet of tissues. Locals get chapati and curry scooped into plastic bags, and a lighter hangs from a tree to light cigarettes. Its great, except for the nasty cold I got from eating there, that I'm still nursing a few days later in Bagan. The other evening activity was taking in a dissident comedy show by the (in)famous moustache brothers who are currently under house arrest after years in prison for making jokes about the government. I can't say it was funny- the humor was not-so-fresh, but I can say it was fascinating, though strange, watching them play clips of American celebrities talking about them and fast forwarding clips about the horrors of the Burmese government, which was all a little odd to try to be laughing after speeches about child soldiers.
And Mandalay hill the next morning was impressive. I cant deny that pagoda/buddha/temple fatigue is rapidly setting in, but climbing to the top of the hill, (which the Buddha himself apparently climbed with Ananda some 2500 years ago) with thousands of pilgrims and not a westerner in sight was fantastic, if claustrophobic, and some great views over the city, to the royal palace in the center, and stupas dotting the landscape for miles out to the mountains that begin the Himalayan foothills. It was unbelievably crowded due to the fact that the full moon apparently merits a national holiday off from work here in Burma (the astrology thing again!) , and thus a long weekend and sightseeing for the locals. From there to another strange temple, featuring the worlds biggest book that's the Buddhist canon inscribed on marble in thousands of stupas. (more details to come, but my hour is up.)
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