Back to Home Base

Adrian, Stefan, Jackie and I ventured back to the boats this morning hoping to try out the leg rowing style in a traditional boat. The workers at the dock commandeered three women passing by to take us out in their boats. We ended up sitting in the boat while they rowed. It was a nice way to pass the time, but I really did want to try my leg at rowing. Perhaps the next time I canoe… Stefan tried rowing, but never mastered the standing part and headed back to shore. Adrian was able to stand and after a few imbalanced attempts at rowing, he promptly dove into the water cloudy and dark with dirt seen to have chicken feathers and food waste floating in it.

A few of us wandered through the market across the street from the hotel where we picked up some mangoes and then headed back to board the bus toward Heho for our flight back to Yangon. Truly I will miss the mountains.

The Day of The Lake

We spent the entire day on Inle Lake in long, wooden boats just wide enough to be fitted with large, white, wooden deck chairs in a row of 5 provided by our simple, but very comfortable hotel. Our boats rocketed across the lake lifting the bow out of the water about a foot or so. Passing by leg rowers (traditional for the area) collecting lakeweed to be bundled, dried, fertilized, floated and staked into the lake with bamboo poles. Inle lake is surrounded by mountains making land a premium. Most people live on the water in stilted houses where they create floating gardens to farm tomatoes and other vegetables to sell at local markets. The area reminded me of Venice. Literally towns were built with waterway streets.

Partway through our tour of the villages we wandered through a local market where I picked up some jade necklaces. After walking up a very long incline to yet another pagoda, we took a side trail back to view a “waterfall” which turned out to be a spillway for a local dam. Most enjoyable was the bamboo forest with plants I’m guessing were 40 feet tall.

Up In The Hill Country

Another traveling morning to Heho, Taungyi and Inle (inlay) Lake. Heho was a quaint, small town with the only local airport. We stopped briefly to ensure our departure arrangements where I picked up some delicious cracker/cookies and chocolate chew snacks. We drove through the countryside where rice fields covered the area and the eastern Shan Mountains grew closer and closer. This part of the country is by far my favorite!! Temperatures are much cooler and significantly less humid; basically, livable. Strangely the view reminds me of the European countryside with quaint towns and villages scattered amongst the hills, farms dotted here and there and people walking their cows through town streets.

On our way to Taungyi we stopped at the only vineyard owned by a German who rents the land from the government. This added an even further texture of European flavor to the area. Jackie had never been to a vineyard before, so I indulged her with memories from touring wineries with my parents, aunts/uncles and cousins on summer vacations. We stayed for lunch and as usual the bill was miraculously higher than the amount for which people put in money. Every time we do a group meal not selected by our leaders, we end up short somehow. I get people are on a budget, but most meals are not all that expensive here.

Naturally we stopped at a church in Taungyi where we again sat for a good half hour while our group leader chatted with the locals. There was a lovely bench area with flowery shrubbery covering and a nice view of the hills. The terrain reminds me of the book Dr. Hup gave me to read on my journey The Piano Tuner. At one point the author describes the Shan Mountain area as small island villages differing from mountain ridge to mountain ridge. The fictitious story is a great, quick read that gives helpful historical background to the early 1800s when Burma was under British rule.

Our afternoon took us to a Christian bible school where we sat in on a droll Greek class where students were rehearsing for a presentation. We seemed to just wander in as if they were not expecting us to stop in this particular classroom. Yet again we introduced ourselves and then listened to them sing a song in Greek. The singing was nice. I snuck out as soon as I could. The snack provided for us was of fried dough balls with sugar sprinkled on top. Sadly oil filled my mouth when I bit into it—ick! Dinner was absolutely wonderful. I believe this was the night we ate Indian food. The flatbread was fabulous in a country where bread is not a large staple.

For Whom The Bell Tolls

Today began with a drive through downtown Mandalay past the popular Zay Cho market and a huge downtown clock tower on our way to the bank of the Ayarwady River. This might be some of the worst living conditions we have seen so far. Small shacks and huts closely built along the river house families working in fishing or boat tours. Literally on the bank, the ground was rutted and muddy. Locals bathed and washed clothes in the brown, opaque river. Some live on their boats which are packed in about 5 two story boats deep along the shore. We walked out across 3-4 to see the river and the bank. Small boats with double bed sized sails patchworked together float by. After a half hour or so we boarded the bus where Stefan suggested we consider taking a boat ride this afternoon to see King Mingdon’s (who founded former Burman capital Mandalay) unfinished temple and the 90 ton bell replica replacing the one built centuries ago by the king which fell into the Ayarwady River never to be recovered. No one objected and our group leader wandered off to make arrangements.


The church was pretty like most are. We sat for a bit while a local member explained the new sidewalk they were constructing outside and some of the programs they offer. As churches start to blend together in my mind, I think this one touted a baptismal font made of marble from the Queen of England.

Our final stop of the morning was a Methodist bible school. We were scheduled to lead chapel for them at 10am. Thanks to our intrepid group leader, we arrived 15 minutes late. Naturally they went on without us. We joined in worship to find at the end they suggested we have a question and answer session with them. Three seminary professors teaching in Myanmar had joined us for our northern study tour and our new friends at the Methodist school decided this would be a lovely time to put them in the hot seat. Amusingly the students had an assignment to write on various theological questions and this was an excellent way for them to research :) For the next 2 hours we participated in a lively session of theology. Jackie and I agreed that this was a most interesting and engaging part of the trip for us. I had food for thought when I arrived back at the hotel to ponder.

Enjoying the breeze and bananas on the boat ride was delightful. It was nice to sit and relax in the cool air. Upon arriving up river, we were greeted by a swarm of children who proceeded to question us and act as our “tour guides” telling us all about the area, where they lived and their willingness to walk us all the way to the top of the unfinished temple. Like all other holy temples in Myanmar we removed our shoes before entering. This time, however, we were basically walking up roughly 150 stairs with weeds encroaching from the edges and pieces of brush and crumbled rock on the path. I tried to step gingerly to protect my feet while balancing my bag and listening to the 2 kids accompanying me. I successfully reached the top to a lovely, far reaching view of the river, the 2 gargantuan half crumbled elephant/lion statues guarding the temple and the local town. I video taped my two guides and had them translate a grouping of stones arranged to spell out “I love so and so.” Then tragedy struck. While heading to the far side of the temple, gouged and cracked with deep ravines, I acquired a splinter in the bottom of my foot. Brilliant. We walk most places and who knows what kind of toxins were on the bit of wood. One of the two kids ventured off to procure a toothpick from a friend which I managed to use to get about half of it out—enough to allow me to walk down without pushing it in further. Surprisingly none of my group noticed my trouble. Shortly after my two guides indicated they were going to stay up top and requested I consider sponsoring their school with a donation. Pleased with their accompaniment and care I offered them some kyats. Stefan informed us earlier part of their congenial ploy was to guide tourists to the top, ask for money since they weren’t going to return for a while and often to follow you down regardless of whether they received money.

Before returning to the boat, we ventured to the large 90 ton bell. Each of us rang it using a 2 foot long and 4” wide chunk of wood with a carved out handle in the middle by ramming it into the bell. Great fun! How often do you get to do that?? I think Amy kindly captured a picture of me.

Later in the evening at the hotel I expertly used my tweezers and a can of Sprite to chill my foot and removed the remnants of the overall ¼” long splinter.

On The Road To Mandalay

Today we flew to Mandalay in the north central part of Myanmar. This town is predominately filled with Chinese people. The city has a very organized lay out compared to Yangon and feels very modern/western. The downtown area is much cleaner with less slum looking areas. Overall landscaping is quite different from Bagan. Temperatures are slightly less arid and much of the area we traverse is relatively dense city. We arrived in time for lunch at a restaurant named the ____ Duck. It was either Peking or Yellow I think. The food was excellent! Classy looking place. It is across from a large, red stone palace with an enormous moat around it now in use by the military. This seems to be a popular place for people to hang out. Busy streets border it on all sides and an exercise trail with workout equipment in bright colors borders the fenced moat.

The hotel is much more upscale than the one in Bagan. We think the owner must have been a friend of our group leader. The simplicity was fine, but everything seemed to have bits of leaves and a fine dusting of dirt on it.

Our afternoon trip consisted of visiting a local YMCA where they teach young kids. Most of the time we sat or stood around while our group leader chatted with some of the locals. Before we left, we hiked up 3 floors to the rooftop to “see the view.” The mountains in the distance were lovely, but by this time weariness and boredom had already set in. I’m sure the YMCA is an important place to the community, but these places we visit seem to lack the ability to express this importance to us in their presentations. Later we toured a now church where Adoniram Judson was in prison. Visiting the church was more sitting and wandering thoughts. We did sing some hymns (of which Amazing Grace seems to be the natural default), but the most interesting part for me was standing outside listening to Buddhist children recite lessons/”prayers.” Prayer is an inaccurate rendering as Buddhists to not speak to or worship Buddha like Christians do with God. The best I have come up with is that it is a form of spoken meditation which acts to fill the human need for communication with the spiritual/divine in religion. The children continued for quite some time; at least 15-20 minutes.

By far the best part of today was the trip to the foot-bridge across the Ayarwady River where I met Joseph(?) (he pronounced his name Yo-shay). Joseph looked to be in his mid teens. He was trying to sell trinkets like most people swarming a popular tourist spot. A seasoned veteran at sales, he asked me where I was from and how long I had been in the country, in Mandalay and where I was headed to next. His English was near impeccable. He said he learned English from tourists and at the local monastery since his family had no money to send any of their kids to school. Joseph’s dad died at some point from drinking. One of Joseph’s brothers had started drinking like his father and Joseph had been estranged from him for about 2 years now. He was lucky to make 1-2 sales of jade necklaces either a day or a week. It was hard to catch that part of the story with the wind and people zipping by pushing bikes across the bridge. I appreciated his story and was interested in some necklaces for friends’ souvenirs, but all of his were large medallions and not really my taste. He also did an excellent job taking a photo of me—one of his trademark offerings to tourists. As usual, I left my money on the bus. Only later did it dawn on my that I could have bought a necklace and given it away to Goodwill back home. He was very kind, gracious and truly in a fix; even if only part of his story was true.

Lacquer Ware Have You Come From?

Day 2 in the redish arid landscape of Bagan. We drove across the street from the hotel (mind you, this was in a huge tourist bus) to view a cross built into the side of a pagoda. After our far excursion, we drove back to the hotel so our leader could do something he forgot. Our second outing of the day took us to the Thra bar gate where we stopped for 20 minutes to take pictures of two statues. This was truly thrilling.

When we had eaten lunch and rested at the hotel from 1-4pm (this was a good thing as it is the hottest part of the day and I had already died 3x over from heat exhaustion), we moved on to a lacquer ware shop to learn the lengthy process of bamboo and flexible horse hair lacquer pieces. High quality lacquer ware takes anywhere from 6 months to a couple years to make. First the lacquer must be harvested from lacquer trees—something akin to collecting rubber or maple tree sap. One needs something to lacquer next. Two main types of material used at the shop we stopped at: bamboo and horse hair. Bamboo is coiled or woven to form rigid shapes while woven horse hair is as flexible as rubber.

Once you have a specific object created, a coating of black lacquer, ash and clay is applied. The process shifts to a time consuming back and forth between layering lacquer, drying it in a cellar and sanding/washing it. When the desired shininess and thickness are achieved, the piece is either finished as a shiny black or sent on for scribing and coloring. Colored pieces have colored lacquer added until thick enough to scratch down into to create a design with various pointed tools similar looking to calligraphy pens or dental tools. Artisans can etch in lines or blocks for extremely intricate animals, scenery or geometric designs. In-between colors coats of clear lacquer are added. At this shop I only saw red, yellow, green and blue coloring. Pieces ranged from monochromatic to all available colors.

What makes lacquer ware unique is its ability to waterproof, shine, fireproof and make unbreakable whatever it coats. Road (or temple) side salespeople would often show us how a lighter would not burn the piece and smashing it on the ground would not nick or crack it.

For very in-depth information:
http://asianspiritgallery.com/burmese-lacquerware-burma-lacquer-ware/

Crowds Harassed and Helpless...But Nevertheless Persistent

We arrived in Bagan around 8am. Our first stop was to the only Christian church for worship. Apparently 2 weeks of not having an English worship service makes me bawl during communion. Perhaps I was simply that hungry for a word of life. I really didn’t think I would be feasting on Jesus here between Buddhism and Baptists. With little good preaching and no bible to read, I savor the moments that do come. Perhaps this is a tiny taste of what it’s like to be a persecuted Christian or a frontier people trying to keep faith, hope and focus on Jesus. It was all a very strange occurrence for sure.

In the afternoon we visited the Shwe gugyi and the Dhamayan gyi temples ending the afternoon with a boat ride on the Ayarwady River. On the boat I tasted some tamarind sugar wafers and toffee/brittle bars with nuts in them. Nothing like a sugar rush to keep you going.

Every site we stopped at greeted us with a crowd of locals flocking around us to sell souvenirs. After a few stops all I could think about was Jesus being harassed by the helpless crowds of people who follow him during his alone time bringing him to have compassion on them. I, however, had little to no compassion for these people. They pressed in on us as soon as the bus door opened and we set foot on the ground. Some of the more talented and experienced sales people made the effort to talk with us and share some of their stories before asking us to support them and their family. This is how I met Mu Mu.

Mu Mu is 35 and has 5 kids. When she asked how old I was (27), she responded that she had 3 kids by my age. Her nearby sales mates chuckled at this fact. Mu Mu lives near Bagan and speaks excellent English which she learned from the tourists over the years. She worked from 7:30am to 7:30pm. As we made our way toward the bus, she asked me to stop at her shop to purchase something in support of her and her baby. I was strongly considering getting a small lacquer bowl or a bracelet (as this was something on my purchasing list), but had left my money on the bus. When I told her that I was not going to buy anything a wave of sadness washed over her face. She offered to wait while I retrieved my money from the bus. Though I felt bad for not supporting her, I also didn’t want to encourage her to continue business near the temple sites. Being tired, wiped out from the heat and severely irritated by the relentlessness of the saleswomen, I had little patience for the repeated drain of “You are very beautiful. You buy a __(insert souvenir of choice)__ from me? Pretty lady! Good deal for you! Lucky money. You like? Just looking okay. You like necklace? You want bowl?”