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Published: November 12th 2009
Local temple and local kids
Not sure their parents would approve of them clambering around the temple like this.T'was a bum numbingly long 19.5 hours on a very (very, very!) busy bus to Inle, but worth every bone jarring jolt involved. To think I very nearly missed this place entirely! Thank heavens for the Taungyi Fire Balloon Festival which induced me to come.
Having a few days to play with before the festival began I decided to explore the lake. Electing to forgo the cheaper North Lake, I headed straight to the South lake. This option requires a special permit and guide and costs a staggering $55, this being more than my daily budget alone I did toy with the idea of hunting down some fellow travelers with which to split the cost. However, it took me all of 2 minutes to decide I did not want the company in case they cramped my style (OK, so I have no style, just not overly sociable I guess). So, I bit the bullet, forked over wads of cash and went on my lonesome.
What can I say? It was quite simply worth each and every penny (well, technically that should read cent I suppose but that doesn't trip so well off the tongue). The scenery was ever changing
KiteFlying
Every evening local kids would go fly their kites, having a grand old time. I even caught a group of fully grown men doing the same although they looked slightly sheepish once they saw I was watching. and constantly beautiful, not once was I bored (nor sea sick - hurrah!) on the 3 hour boat trip there. Suffered a minor disappointment when I realised my sunken pagodas were in fact high and dry upon the land (not much rain during this rainy season apparently), but this quickly evaporated as I explored on foot, crawling through the tiny openings to view the carnage wrought by the influx of waters over the years.
A short walk through the village and then on to a local sake brewer where I was force fed sake until I could take no more (which admittedly was not much, it was very potent and I am very much the lightweight). As we staggered off the owner refused all attempts at payment and, overcome at such kindness (and partially due to my inebriated state) I found myself near to tears (for the second time this trip to encounter such generosity. From here we weaved our way to a local ceremony where novice monks were receiving their initiation. I took wads of photos here but discovered later I had photographed many hands and feet (mostly out of focus) but nothing of actual interest. Well done
Local fisherman
Alas, all my photo's of the lake themselves are caught in that dodgy disk. Maybe I can release them when I get home. me eh, heaven knows what impression I made upon the locals. Anyway, I regret not one part of it and thoroughly recommend everyone go to Sankar, except if everyone went it would no longer be so special I suppose. The eternal catch 22 of travel.
Next day was another expensive one, this time I split the cost with a Japanese gentleman I encountered at breakfast. Kakku, a complex of almost 2500 stupas was indeed a sight to behold, but certainly not worth the money involved in getting there. However, I consider I received my money's worth when I was caught attempting a sneaky photo of some farm workers as we drove by, our guide would have nothing less than we stop the car and go over to say hello. I was more than a little embarrassed to interrupt their work but interrupt we did and they were all very gracious about it I must say. Such a lovely, lovely people the Burmese. The ladies of the field talked me through their work, and allowed me a shot (jolly difficult if I may say so, hats off to those ladies) during which I nearly amputated several of my own toes.
The gentlemen of the field crowded round, determined I would indeed live to see another day and then, bizarrely, announced I was beautiful (clearly the sun had addled their brains) which in turn caused the women to cry as one that when reincarnated they wanted to come back as a western woman. Given the Burmese women are all stunning, I suspect this had more to do with leaving field work behind and jetting off round the world to watch other people perform it, than in wanting to be beautiful like me.
On the way home we stopped at Taunggyi Festival, during the day they release giant animal shaped balloons and it was all great fun. So many of the balloons caught fire before they managed to achieve flight, the disappointment of the balloon teams in these instances was palpable, the watching crowd got a thrill whither the balloon flew or not though. Those that did make it were a fabulous sight indeed. Alas, unable to stay for the evening fire balloons I reluctantly returned home and arranged to see the local puppet show.
I was joined by two Germans and 3 Spanish for the show, from their reactions
I suspect they may not have enjoyed it as much as I, their loss however. As the lights went down a strange crackling began and a female announcer began her spiel. For some unfathomable reason the announcer was in the style of your average world war II radio broadcast, the accent, the statico speech, even the eternal interference. Very odd, however, before I could flee (and anyway the doors were all locked and bolted to guard against this eventuality) the show began. One by one gaudy but glorious puppets danced and twirled and somersaulted their was across the stage, they were so fast I had to use sports mode to get a photo in focus. My uncertainty as to whether I would enjoy this lasted... oh... about 5 seconds. With each performance my enjoyment grew, as did my internal mirth, quite simply it was hilarious. My very favourite was the chap who did not dance but instead bounced a ball for his performance. Footballers need look to their laurels methinks as, not only could this chap bounce the ball off the right side of his
face, but he could do this whilst waving his left foot in the air and
careering sideways. Fabulous! Alas, I was shaking so much at this point, trying to hold in my laughter (I hold strong suspicions that this, despite all evidence to the contrary, was not in fact a comedy performance), that even sports mode could not achieve a single shot in focus.
After the show the puppeteer appeared. Dripping in sweat and gasping for breath (obviously he had been just as active as his puppets) and simply glowing with pride. I was so, so glad I had not given in to that laughter, I think it would have broken his proud little heart. Thanking him greatly I quickly left before I disgraced myself and let said laughter out (I only hope he did not realise those great peels drifting round the corner were from me). As sheer entertainment goes there is nothing to beat this, turning in to bed that night, still grinning from ear to ear, I determined to make a second visit to the show the following night.
I was scuppered in this plan however due to yet another power cut. Shame. Next night was my last in Inle and the fire balloon festival awaited. Transport back was an
Right overhead
Like being in the eye of the storm issue as there was no public transport after 5:30pm and taxi's cost $38 (too much for me alone). So, teaming up with 2 other solo travellers we trawled the streets looking for people to share with (we each of us needed to go on different nights), by dint of stalking a young American/Israeli couple (camping outside their hotel and duly following them everywhere they went etc) we managed to convince them to let me aboard their taxi.
I have to say, it was definitely worth the effort involved getting there. The place was a heaving mass of people all wrapped up in their woolly hats and thick jackets whilst I was resplendent in t-shirt and trousers, and quite comfortable thank you. There were all the usual stalls you'd expect at a fair and several ferris wheels to boot. These wheels are operated manually, my young men clambering round the frame using their weight to turn it, and it goes pretty darned fast once they get going. I was very impressed, but not impressed enough to actually have a shot, rather fancied keeping my dinner where it belonged you see.
The balloons themselves took a long time to inflate,
40 minutes plus, but were spectacular when they were up. The first sort of balloon has a fire-lit design upon the balloon itself and trails a fire-lit design behind it. The second sort of balloon has no lighted design upon the balloon, but trails a small lit framework containing fireworks. As soon as these balloons look set to fly the crowd is immediately on it's feet. Not to better admire the display as you may think, but to better flee the raining fire from said balloon. There were two firework balloons that night and I cleverly managed to station myself right in the flight path of both (I missread the way the wind blew) and have the singe marks to prove it. I count myself lucky though as apparently the previous night the fireworks exploded before the balloon even took flight, sending burning bamboo in all directions along the ground. But hey, what damage can a little bamboo stick full of gunpowder actually do (to paraphrase the barking mad local I was chatting to)? At least as it falls from the sky it has a chance to burn some of it's energy off before it hits you. Eventually, sated and
Ferris wheel in motion
Remembr, it's young men clambering around the frame that make these things turn - and they are fast! content I retired. A fitting end for my Inle adventure I think.
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fiona swan
non-member comment
once again Jen, you have put a smile on my face and a little envy in my heart at the most wonderful trip you are having. i think this stage of the trip seems everso exciting and with more enthralling sights. stay safe girl, see you anon. fee xxxxx