23feb2011 (Wed): Boat to Bagan

Up at 3.45am for 4.15am taxi to the pier for the 5.30am government
'slow boat' (15hrs) to Bagan. Were ushered into a waiting room behind
the counter where all the locals were buying their tickets, for our
passport numbers to be recorded and our crisp $10 bills to be pocketed
(locals pay 1,500 kyat or about $2). Boarded the boat and Lello
ferreted out a quiet spot on top of a stack of rice sacks where we
could kip, so we didn't end up sitting in the tourist ghetto on
plastic chairs on the upper deck. Had 30mins to spare before
departure, so got some fried dough-sticks and milky coffer 'to go' at
a road-side eatery.

A long dusty day. Befriended Mya Mya who was on board to sell
beautiful home-made blankets to the tourists for 7,000 kyat each. And
the family camped out in the alcove formed by the surround of rice
sacks. And late in the day, two Spanish girls and an Irish girl
hanging out with Alicia (who'd been on the bus up from Yangon to
Mandalay).

The boat stopped about 5 times to load and unload people and goods:
bananas, rice, flowers. Vendors waded into the river at the larger
'ports' to sell voyagers fruit and fried food. It was fascinating to
watch the whole 'operation': the lowering and raising of the gang
planks (literally, planks of wood the width and thickness of an 8x4),
people ascending and descending in narrow lines, enormous loads
balanced on their heads. Men, women, children camped out on the upper
deck on blankets, their luggage and vitals for the trip around them.

The landscape was on the whole flat and featureless, with the
occasional fisherman and sparse encampments on the riverbanks, and the
occasional stupa. Just south of Mandalay we passed by Sangwa, where
we'd visited yesterday, and it was lovely to see the pagodas and the
old and new bridges from the river.

Got into Nyaung around 9.30pm, and a taxi (a car!) whisked us through
Old Bagan to our hotel (Class One KL) in New Bagan, to which the
government forcibly moved locals previously residing within the 'Bagan
Archaeological Zone'. The hotel feels like 5-star accommodation though
it's costing the same $20 as our room at the Hongta in Mandalay.

Such a delight to shower off the dust and grime of the boat.

22feb2011 (Tues) - Mandalay: Old Capitals Around Mandalay (Tourist Trail)

Today we hit the tourist trail hard, shuttled around the Mandalay
surroundings in an open-backed blue taxi, accosted by young girls
selling jade necklaces and collapsible sun-hats. Ashin our monk-friend
came with us.

Before embarking on the Grand Tour, we made an early sortie to the
jade market about 10 blocks south of our hotel. Lots of chunks of rock
of all sizes, sandy brown on the outside, pale green or dark green or
orange brown on the inside. Buyers evaluated quality or purity or
something by shining a their flashlights into the core of stones. Men
and women vendors squatted side by side, Burmese and Chinese, old
women rubbing shoulders with young punks.

More confusion over the location of breakfast once back at the hotel
at 7.45am, where Ashin was early for our 8am rendezvous. Upstairs. In
the room, like yesterday we supposed. No breakfast. Back to the
reception. Yes, yes, upstairs. Eventually it became clear there was in
fact a breakfast room nobody had bothered to mention to us.

Head out of town stopping at the marble carvers and the wood carvers
and the embroiderers, and later at the weavers. Witnessed amazing
dexterity.

Made it to the monastery where at 10.30am every day more than 1000
monks can be watched lining up for their breakfast, and photographed
eating it. Mobbed with tourists, some not shy to thrust their large
lenses in the monks' faces . Rather unsettling. Ashin spent a year at
this monastery when he was a kid, and said the abbot would beat him
several times a day for not remembering his 'fana' (I believe this is
the language of religion here, like Latin) correctly.

From there we continued to our own lunch in a river side restaurant by
the pier where we were supposed to catch a boat over to Inwe, a royal
capital with lots of pagodas. We decided to skip it (sounded like a
lot of shuttling with lots of other tourists just then arriving in
large air-conditioned buses) and continued straight on to Sangway
instead: another royal capital with more pagodas. There we climbed the
main one, accompanied up the never-ending staircase by a couple keen
on speaking with us though we shared no common language (Ashin turned
out to be a very half-hearted translator).

And finally on to U Bein Bridge to hang out at a shady 'cafe' (banana
fronds lashed together with ties made from plastic bags). Ashin
procured two plastic water bottles of palm wine for us to sip on (it
smells like a farm and the first taste is of barnyard, but it tastes
good going down) as we walked the kilometer or so across the longest
wooden bridge in Myanmar. There's a cluster of shops at either end,
nothing remarkable -- but we had some charming encounters with locals
on the 'crossing.'

Dropped by the photo shop to pick up the prints we'd ordered, for
Ashin and the orphanage and the women making sunscreen at the temple.
We said a heartfelt goodbye to Ashin, and promised to stay in touch;
Lello has been encouraging him to think about visiting Italy. I could
swear there was a tear in his eye.

Had dinner at the same Indian restaurant as last night, and Luc (a
Frenchman from the bridge) waved hello as he passed by. Took a walk
along the moat and over a bridge to the Palace walls (the walls are
original but the palace was reconstructed by the Government in 1990).
and hung out chatting by the water.

21feb2011 (Mon) - Mandalay: Monks & Orphans, by Bike

Rented bikes today. Not quite up to the quality of Dutch bikes, but
that end of the weight spectrum. Traffic here is a mixture of cars
(20%), scooters (40%), bikes (15%), pedestrians (10%) and 15%
assorted. Ok, maybe there are more cars than that. Some SUVs and the
latest Audis, lots of bangers from the '70s. At the traffic lights on
the rare 'broad street' intersections I had a Mad Max moment, staring
down a phalanx of motorbikes facing 'my' phalanx of motorbikes with
equal intensity, fingers gripping the accelerator ready to go full
throttle. Actually, the lights 'count down' here, so you're warned
when they're about to turn green -- or red, which is just as well,
since the brakes on our bikes didn't work too well. At the
intersections without lights, bigger vehicles take precedence over
smaller ones; but everyone is pretty polite about it and traffic keeps
moving very smoothly. My strategy was to hug the wheel of the cyclist
ahead of me, making my move in their wake.

Our first destination was the monastery of our monk friend Ashin from
Mandalay Hill, on 62nd between 31st and 32nd. The railroad tracks
between us and him forced us on a bit of a detour, and we biked past
the monastery twice before Ashin came to collect us at the local
temple where we were asking for directions a second time. He served us
a full-on Burmese meal out of his steel canister stack (Naew's maids
in Bangkok transported the family's evening meal in a similar
contraption), and we sat and chatted and had an impromptu English -
Burmese language exchange. And longi-tying lesson.

Our second destination was the Orphanage of the Burmese Buddhist
Association, which was the first place we'd stopped to ask directions
to Ashin''s place. 157 boys between the ages of 5 and 13, getting a
basic education before continuing classes in government schools
(though they typically continue to live at the orphanage). The teacher
we'd met earlier took it upon himself to show us around the campus:
the kitchen where the older boys cook the food for all the residents,
the dining hall, the library, the classrooms, the language lab, the
computer lab. We didn't go into the dorms. All very basic, but very
much 'cared for.' A German charity is one of the main funders. The
guest book was full of comments from Europeans (Germans, Austrians,
Swiss mostly) who had visited. One was from a family who lives at 91
rue des Tourterelles in Thoiry; go figure.

Ashin then took us to the local pagoda, which is under
re-construction. A group of women near the entrance were making
sunscreen by rubbing logs with a special bark on flat stone blocks wet
with a little water. We all had fun smearing the white paste on the
foreigners' faces, and taking pictures together.

Biking in the cool of the morning was lovely. Walking parched down
shadeless streets in the early afternoon, I felt heat-stroke coming
on. I must carry water with me always, and buy a hat.

Got back to the hotel about 3pm and blissed out in a cool shower, then napped.

In the evening (5.30pm on), visited the Night Market held on a main
street which is closed to traffic, just down from the Clock Tower,
Perused the book sellers wares -- saw another copy of Burmese Days,
along with Windows manuals from 1995 and English text books long out
of print -- and the tables of sandals (both plastic and leather) and
the vertical racks of t-shirts and the stacks of pirated DVDs.

Stopped at a chapati-stall for an 'apperitivo' before landing at a
street-side Indian 'restaurant' -- so dubbed by us since it had kitted
out its boy-waiters in identical t-shirts and they were all hustling
very professionally. The outdoor tables were arranged 'around' the
corner of two streets, where the manager / cashier had a
panopticon-like vantage point on all runners.

Found a shop that prints photos, as we'd like to give the monk and
teacher and sunscreen-makers copies of ones we took this afternoon,
and finally landed at an internet cafe where most of the other people
are playing video games.

Night night!

PS. About posting photos to the blog: I'm sorry but that's not going
to happen until I leave Myanmar... :(

20feb2011 (Sun) - Mandalay: Sunset from Mandalay Hill & Moustache Brothers

Got into Mandalay at 4am. Another large dusty bus depot about 30min
out of town. Tired of waiting for Raf & Alicia (an Australian on the
road since October, following the Buddhist retreat route) & French
Girl & Japanese Guy to decide their plan of action, and hopped an
'open air' blue taxi to Hongta Hotel (these taxis are like mini pick
up trucks with seats along either side of the chassis and a canopy
over the top). Our hotel is right by the Western moat surrounding the
Palace. Mandalay is laid out in a grid, with the intersections (rather
than roads) conveniently marked -- we are staying at 82nd St between
26th and 25th.

Got to the hotel and the 20-something-year-old overnight staff looked
at our reservation slip blankly before asking us what our room number
was. Eventually we got settled in a 6th floor room looking south over
the concrete office blocks of the center city, and somehow took a nap
amidst the cacophony of a Mandalay morning -- honking cars,
construction, drummers, and other unidentified percussion. We asked
for another room but it wouldn't be ready until after noon.

Emerged about 8am and hooked a right around the back of our hotel to a
local street-side 'cafe' where we had 'pancake with egg' (resembled an
omelet) for breakfast overlooking a fleet of parked scooters. We
ambled further and found our way to the Clock Tower and Zengyo Market,
which has everything on sale. Even Naga masks from the northeast
border area, collected by a pharmacist-businessman who trades Western
medicines for them.

Returned to a quieter room on the second floor at the rear of the
building, overlooking a Christain church complex, and napped to the
sound of birds chirping.

Went up Mandalay Hill to catch the sunset from the pagoda at the top,
along with several hundred other tourists (mostly Asian). We caught a
blue open-air taxi to the base of the hill, then a car taxi half way
up the hill (stronger engine), then took the escalator up to the top
(in scale much akin to the escalators at the Tate Modern or Jubliee
Line). First time I've been on an escalator in my bare feet (you've
got to remove your shoes as soon as you are on pagoda ground.)

Sunset was far from spectacular, but I loved the chimes tinkling on
the corona of the pagoda and on the lamp posts around the perimeter.

A young monk (24 years old) approached us and asked whether he could
speak English with us, and we hung out for about an hour as dusk
settled, before walking down (the stairs, this time) to 'our' waiting
open-air taxi. The driver said he'd been back and forth a number of
times, and we were the last ones down. We hadn't asked him to wait.

We dropped off Ashin, our young friend, at the Sedona Hotel (close to
his Monastery, apparently) before carrying on to the show by the
dissident Moustache Brothers. Apparently two of the three brothers had
gotten jailed in 1995 for subversive conduct, and sentenced to 7 years
hard labor. But the third brother carried on with the show, and it
continues every night to this day, performed indoors (they are banned
from performing on the street) and exclusively for tourists. The humor
is bland to tame by Western standards, with most of the show
consisting in Pyun Law showing off his knowledge of English idiom to
quaint effect. But he does have signs printed up with the likes of
'KGB, CIA, Mossad' written on one, 'General, Major, Commander' on
another, which locally must be deemed edgy. The two jokes he told in
the hour-long routine were 1. Relates how in Burma it's all see no
evil, hear no evil, speak no evil, and how a Burmese man goes to see a
dentist in Thailand; the dentist says, 'But surely, you have dentists
in Burma?!'; the man answers, 'Yes, but there we can't open our
mouths; 2. Everything is very safe in Burma coz the police crack down
heavily on theft and corruption -- because they don't like
competition.

After 15min or so of 'running commentary', the show moved on to dance
'demonstrations', with the brother and the wife and the sister-in-law
and the sister all appearing in various jester-like or animal
costumes. In the Lonely Planet it discussed how the show could go on
because the Moustache weren't 'performing' but were giving
'demonstrations of performance.' Or some such 1984-ish circumlocution
for what they are doing.

The 1/2hr walk back to the hotel took more like 45mins since we turned
the wrong way down 26th. Passed much Donald Judd-like neon tubing
along the road-side, illuminating shops and an Anglican churchyard.
Stopped at a counter selling sticky rice with coconut and peanuts --
seems it's a dish that is sold to be given as a gift.

19feb2011 (Sat) - YGN: Shwedagon Pagoda & Bus to Mandalay

Visited the renowned Shwedagon Pagoda in the center of Yangon in the
morning, guided around by Lily, a woman of 50 or so who has been
giving tours there for the last ten years. In the beginning she just
talked about the Pagoda, but gradually she started reading more and
more about Buddhism and now she can tell you about architecture or
philosophy: as you wish. She charges 5000K for an hour.

As we walked around the pagoda Lello and I were given the opportunity
to ablute (what do you call it when you pour water over a stature?)
the Buddha shrine dedicated to our birth-days. Every Burmese knows
what day of the week they were born on. Lily looked up July 9th 1969
in her reference guide going back about a century, and it turns out I
was born on a Wednesday. Wednesday is the watershed day in the week
and has two shrines -- one for people born in the morning, the other
for people born in the evening. So the week has 8 days, kind-of.

We struck the giant 50-tonne bells with giant mallets, and fanned the
giant 20m Buddha statue by pulling the draw-cord attached to the
overhead fan. We arrived around 9am, and by 10am the flagstones
underfoot were searing our feet.

We stopped on our way down the endless staircase flanked with
statuette vendors to test the sound of various gongs.

We checked out of Yamo Hotel shortly after noon, then took a final
wander down our street towards the market. We took a left on a the
street of Sign Makers, scores of men carving out letters in plastic
with jigsaws.

An Indian gentlemen Lello had met on his first day's wanderings down
this same street pointed us in the direction of New Dehli restaurant,
where we had a feast.

Afterwards we stopped to drink coffee at Carolina's 'shop' (another
new friend of Lello's) and Lello ended up ordering a sign with the
name of his travel business in Italy -- Andiamo! -- from a Sign Maker
who came to drink tea with us. Yellow lettering on a cobalt blue
background, the website in smaller green letters underneath.

At 4pm we picked up our bags at the hotel and caught a taxi for the
30min drive to the bus station. Our driver was of Pakistani decent,
and had spent 3 years working in Malaysia and 2 years in Singapore. He
told us he had been to Paris -- but had not gotten into the airport.
Turns out the Shoe Bomber had just struck, and his flight was turned
around before landing.

It seems strange the the bus terminal is so far out of town, but makes
sense when you see the size of it. Hundreds of buses coming and going.
They would snarl traffic hopelessly if the terminal were any closer to
the center.

Who should claim the seats immediately in front of us on the bus, but
Raf and a new friend of his (a French girl). Raf never did show up on
Friday night at Yamo Hotel as planned; he apologized, saying things
got 'hectic.' He's planning to catch the train way up north (it takes
25hrs), do some trekking, and then catch a boat down to Mandalay
again.

10hrs, 2 1/2 stops, too much A/C. We left punctually at 6pm, had a
half hour dinner break at a custom-made highway food pavilion around
8.40pm, took a stop I miraculously slept through, and stopped once or
twice for a mass pee-by-the-side-of-the-road break. The comfort level
was like being on a cramped flight. The road was straight and for the
most part well-paved, with two or three toll booths along the way.
Traffic was light.

18feb2011 - Yangon: Tourist office travel planning

Spent 3hrs with Te Nu and her cousin Zau mapping out and booking our onward plans. Lello (my travel companion) couldn't believe what was happening. He says he has never booked a hotel in advance in his life. Our itinerary is: overnight bus to Mandalay Saturday night; 3 days Mandalay; boat (12hr) to Bagan; 3 days Bagan visiting 800+ temples; bus (10hr) to Kalaw; 3 days hike Kalaw to Inle Lake; 3 days Inle Lake. Then we had lunch with Te Nu and Zau at the restaurant down the hall from Experience Travel on the 15th floor of the Olympia Tower. Nice views. 

We also changed money on the street: 1 Euro got me 1150 Kyat, and 1 Dollar got me 860 Euro. Lello was less fortunate as some of his dollar bills were quite crumpled / faded, and he only got 850 on average to the dollar. No kidding. Crisp dollar bills command a higher exchange rate than crumpled ones.

This evening we met up with Dan & Ros, friends of Clare Fitzsimmons who I know from the VIS; they are friends of hers from UCL in London. Dan heads up Save the Children in Myanmar, and Ros is officially a housewife but unofficially attempts to continue her career as a journalist, freelance. She's met with 'the Lady' once, but otherwise writes stories about 'the common people'. In a previous life she worked for Reuters in Iraq and Afghanistan. We chatted over a few beers and grilled skewers (beef, squid, ochra) at a street-side BBQ on 19th St before they and their house-guests Christine & Alaistair ('Pants') met another couple for a shi-shi Thai dinner on Inya Lake.

Walking to and from 19th Street, we came across a vibrant food market (fresh fruit & veg neatly stacked, fish mongers with a cornucopia of species glistening on silver dishes, butchers hacking bloody flesh with machetes) one road down from the one our hotel is on; it stretched for blocks and blocks and was a feast for the senses.

17feb2011 - Yangon: Day trip to Twante

Took a trip out of Yangon by double-decker ferry then mini-bus packed with locals to Twante, a small village where the highlights are the potters and the pagoda. The potters make bog-standard pots (nothing to sell to tourists), but interestingly one was making clay / ceramic water filters designed by Americans and distributed by (among others) Save the Children. The pagoda was being refurbished post Cyclone Gigi (can't remember the name, begins with a G... Nargis was in '08 I think, this one was '10), masons hammers clink-clinking away. The moon is full now, hence it's time for the full-moon festival -- and Twante had a full-on celebration going with men-in-cow-costume performers (kind of like a Chinese dragon, just a little clumsier), musicians (gongs, drums), and dancers. The trip took about 1 1/2 hr each way, and we were 'taxi-ed' around the town by tri-shaw (a bike with a side-car) in the broiling mid-day heat (12.30-2.30pm ish). What do they say about Mad Dogs and Englishmen?

16feb2011 - Arrival in Yangon

Flew from Bangkok to Yangon this morning. Arrived and taxi'ed straight to Yoma Hotel where I met Lello and his Burmese friend Te Nu, a very sweet young woman who hung out with us for the afternoon - helping with changing money at the market 'behind the scenes' at a store selling jade ornaments; buying a SIM (& phone, as it turned out) in the department store; visiting a temple; and playing games at the 1970's-like Happy World pseudo entertainment park.

Cannot access any email other than Gmail (Yahoo email and FB email don't work from here), nor can I get to my Blog directly. I hope posting by email works! Would you please email me on my gmail account if you read this, to let me know? Thanks!

BKK - School Run

Took the kids to school in the morning and picked them up in the afternoon; sat in on one of Naew's classes in Electrical Engineering at the university.

Got Myanmar Visa! & Used every form of Bangkok transportation

Arrived Bangkok

And I'm off!

Sun, Feb 6 - Pepper Tree & George Orwell (& Dina & Philip)

One week to departure:

The Pepper Tree on Clapham Common is a small box of a Thai restaurant where diners share long wooden tables Wagamama-style -- though PT has been around longer than Wagamama has been popular, I suspect. Not exactly cozy, given the bright lights, but it is clean, and the eclecticism and professionalism of the young wait-staff gives it an authentic cared-for feel. And the food is good, and the prices reasonable. Ian took me there to 'warm me up for' or 'ease me into' my impending arrival in Bangkok. My thinking would have been to place our farewell dinner together at the tapas restaurant on Northcote Road he's been meaning to check out, given that I'll be eating 'Asian' for the foreseeable future. Yet another example of how our thinking diverges. That said, I'm not complaining (though I can't help critiquing); it was awfully nice of him to take me out at all. He commented PT is not a 'first date kind of place', and not a place where one is encouraged to linger. His fellow hockey umpire from the match this afternoon was outside, waiting to collect his take-out. 

I'm reading 'Finding George Orwell in Burma' by Emma Larkin (Penguin 2004) and am beginning to see and taste and feel places I may find myself this next month. I imagine her to be my age, with a passion for getting under the skin of a people, a country. I hope to have a chance to 'be' with people the way she did, though I realize hers was a research project complete with letters of introduction to locals usually wary of contact with foreigners. 

Separately, a highlight of the day was having lunch at Philip Moser's in Highgate on the occasion of Dina's visiting London for Ahmed's wedding. Saeed and the girls (Carma is now 9 and stylish; Selma is 5 and asserting herself verbally) were along, and I met Philip's wife Anna (Swedish, architect) and kids (Lily is 3 and Gabriel just 6 months).

I've packed my backpack for the first time, and the load is 'ripening' in my room: do I really think I'll use my thermarest? should I buy one of those 'collapsible' silicone bowls, so I'll have something that won't take much space, for noodle vendors to ladle my meal into? And how about cutlery? Oh, I must pick up some rehydration tablets; etc. And I've cleared off my mini netbook, in preparation for loading only the necessaries onto it (reducing sentimental disappointment in the event of theft); I'm also going to take an external drive to backup photos (and take some photos along I hope to go through on the road). I still need to load up one or both of my iPods with music, and to figure out how to refresh podcast downloads on the go.

I've been dealing with my US taxes and hope to round that off this week. I'm all paid up on my UK taxes. I've just re-routed mail that has been going to V's, to MB&H's and Ian's. I might unearth the remains of my Booz Allen pension plan; but then again, I might not. Monday I see Claire & her baby twins and pick up my Travelex prepaid 'Globe Passport' at Selfridges, Tuesday evening I catch up with Byron, Wednesday Mark is coming up to London and I'm having dinner with Deeps, Thursday is Rene's pub crawl, Friday Vicky has said she's free to meet up without Veronica (but I'm dying to see now-3-year-old Ronnie), and Saturday I'm off!