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Published: October 27th 2011
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Our original plan after Mandalay had been to head south to Inle Lake, but after looking at our schedule we realised we had a day or two extra to fill and decided instead to head north to a sleepy little town called Pyin U Lwin. Originally founded by the British (quelle surprise) as a hillside retreat from the heat of the plains around Mandalay, Pyin U Lwin developed into a colonial town of expensive villas, expansive parks and slowly ticking clocks. Sadly over the years the evidence of British rule has faded somewhat and now the town feels more like a Chinese trading post, which in many ways it is. The villas and parks are still there of course, some now boarded up, some in disrepair, some now used as schools, but the rest of the town is entirely lacking in the charm of the colonial days. Of course the cynic might argue that the colonial days are not over, the colonial power is now simply different.
We arrived in the early afternoon after a two hour taxi ride from Mandalay. It sounds like an expensive way to travel, but in Myanmar shared taxis are used like minibuses, and as
we shared with our Swiss friends it made sense. After checking in we had a wander around the town, searching in vain for signs of colonial splendour. Like much of Myanmar it is a hard place to like based solely on aesthetic grounds, a hotchpotch of Chinese shop-houses, guest houses and market stalls that is unlikely to feature in too many oil paintings. Still, the cooler air temperatures and lack of traffic made it a pleasant afternoon to wander, despite the surroundings. On our way back to the hotel in the early evening we found the street of villas and European style churches that are evidence of the British Rule, but as previously mentioned the splendour of the individuals buildings has been allowed to fade.
Our second day in town involved more aimless wandering, this time around the outskirts of town, taking in the lakes, the overpriced golf course, a handful of towering, government run luxury hotels and intriguingly a building site containing exclusively female bricklayers. In truth, that was more or less the highlight, and we decided to head back to Mandalay and catch the night bus onward to Inle Lake.
The ride to Mandalay is worth mentioning
as it took place in a pick-up truck. This is fairly common throughout Myanmar (and also Laos and Cambodia) but it was the first time we had taken one for any considerable distance. Needless to say, it will be the only time. It was bumpy and loud, dusty and damp, and most of all cramped and uncomfortable. For two hours we wound our way down from Pyin U Lwin to the city, stopping once to spray cold water on the brakes to stop them from overheating too much. I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t a tiny bit enjoyable, it was a new adventure after all, but 2 hours was more than enough.
The night bus to Inle was as uneventful as most night journeys, and once more we reached our destination at the ridiculous time of 4am. Thankfully the trend of early check-ins continued and by 5am we were asleep in a hotel bed.
Inle Lake is one of Myanmar’s top tourist destinations, and the closest thing to a backpacker town in the whole country. The benefits of ‘backpacker” towns are threefold: 1) a large choice of cheap accommodation
2) lots of restaurants, some with
western food
3) travel and tour info is easier to come by
The competition for traveller dollars is a good thing, for it means that prices are more reasonable, quality is generally a bit better and life is a little bit easier for a day or two. That is not to say that elsewhere the quality was poor or travelling particularly difficult, but for the road weary traveller – by this point we were 6 months in - there is nothing more inviting than a $12 hotel room with reliable hot water, a nice soft bed and an Italian restaurant down the road. Although, judging by the aftereffects of the pesto on the three German native speakers in our group of 4, maybe we should have stuck to rice and curry. On that point, it seems like a cop out to eat pasta in Asia, and I can fully understand those of you who are currently shaking your heads in disgust at the thought of coming all this way to eat Italian food, but by my calculations I personally have consumed around 30kg of rice since April, so don’t judge me on one plate of Gnocchi!
The
lake is the main reason people visit this part of the Shan province, as it is home to a dozen or more floating villages and the many different tribes who live there. On our first full day we took a boat trip to visit a couple of the villages, as well as visiting a local market and also witnessing the closing ceremony of an annual festival. Each year a golden boat is pulled across the lake by teams of rowers from the surrounding villages. The boat carries 4 small Buddha statues from village to village, before returning them to their home in a monastery, but the real attraction to the non-buddhist is the rowing technique of the locals. This is the only place in the world where the rowers stand up straight, with their oars hooked between the thigh and the calf, and row with their legs. It is hard to explain, and I imagine even harder to master, but amazing to witness. On the long boats pulling the golden Buddha boat teams of up to 60 rowers work in unison, winding their legs back and forth, but we also saw individual fishermen using the same technique on smaller boats
made from single tree trunks. I can only imagine that it gives the rower a better view of the river ahead, or a better angle from which to catch fish maybe? It was a unique sight.
The plan for our second full day was a trek into the surrounding hills, but unfortunately the previous night’s pesto meant a re-think, so after a cycle round in the morning with Marco (who only got sick in the afternoon) I spent the day wandering around the village of Nyuaung Shwe taking many of the photos for this blog. The town was busy with the festival, with an extended all day market and many tribes people from the local villages joining in the fun. So I killed a day tending for the sick and trying not to act as though my iron constitution was a superpower.
We did manage a trekking trip the following day, albeit at a reduced pace. From Nyuaung Shwe we wandered for 4 hours up into the hills to a village of the Pa’o tribe, where we ate lunch, had a look at how they pick and dry tobacco and caught our breath following the ascent. The life in the
hills is remarkably tough, those not involved in the tobacco harvest must scour the hillside each day for anything of value – firewood mainly – then take a 7 hour round trip on foot to the nearest market, sell the wood or whatever they have gathered, and hope they have enough money to buy some rice and vegetables for a day or two. Our guide pointed out to us that the only difference between the life here and in parts of Africa was the relatively abundant supply of water, both for drinking and for growing crops. Otherwise there is little difference. The people live in bamboo huts, live off the land and sell whatever they can find merely to survive. It put the hardship of our climb in some perspective.
The walk back was no less challenging given the torrential downpour that stopped us in our tracks around an hour after lunch. The path was muddy to begin with, but all our protestations and falls was put to shame by one of our guides who was wearing a pair of fake Chinese converse trainers that he had bought the previous day for less than $3 – to a man
our party was shod in expensive walking shoes – he didn’t even slow down, let alone slip!
We had one more day at the lake to allow the wounded to recover a bit more (and also enjoy the aforementioned delights of a backpacker town – though no more pesto) before taking the train to Kalaw. That journey, and indeed the remainder of our stay in Myanmar will have to wait for another day!
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