Yangon, rain, rain and....

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Everyone I'd met who’d been to Yangon had been completely rained out - with the railway and roads under water one girl found the only she could leave was by plane! Noooo I thought, they’re exaggerating, it can't be that bad.... oh was I wrong! And yes, yes I know it was the rainy season but of the 3 days I had in Yangon it rained on every one - and it wasn’t the short sharp downpour followed by blue sky and sunshine variety either! Fortunately I got to miss out on the wading knee deep in water down the road experience that others had! The locals tried to explain that if it rained during the day it would be fine in the evening and if it was fine during the day then come late afternoon the rain would start again, but, well, to me it just seem to rain all the time. When I wasn’t dodging into cafe's and markets to escape the latest downpour I managed to squeeze in some sightseeing, although to be honest Yangon wasn't my favourite place in Burma. There are lots of expats here and being a major entry/exit point into the country there are also far more tourists than elsewhere, all resulting in higher prices and a much greater tendency for people to try and rip you off big style because they assume you’ve just fallen off the plane!

Yangon is home to Shwedagon Paya, which according to legend was built to encase eight hairs from Buddha. The same legend dates it to 2500 years ago, although archaeologists place the original stupa to between the 6th and 10th centuries and an inscription on the current paya puts it at 1485. Entrances are at each of the cardinal points and guarded by a pair of huge 9m high Chinthe - scary half lion, half dragon guardian figures. Once passed the lion/dragon combo, over 100 steps lead via a covered walkway to the top of the hill, some 50m above sea level. The steps are lined on both sides with vendors selling incense, candles, Buddha images, books and all other kinds of religious paraphernalia aimed at the locals who come here to offer prayer. A huge platform opens out at the top of the steps, packed full of small shrines and temples it is dominated by a central massive golden stupa, which at 98m high towers above everything else. The bud at the very top of the stupa is encrusted with a single 70 carat diamond, whilst the section just beneath it, the hti, is encrusted with a further 5,448 diamonds and 2,317 rubies, saphires and topaz. Oh and an emerald to. From there it’s a whole lot of gold plating all the way down to a platform, which only men are allowed onto, and the base, which is itself home to even more stupa’s - four larger ones, one for each cardinal direction, four medium sized ones for the corners of the platform and 60 smaller ones that fill in the gaps.

Located around the base of the main stupa are small shrines for each of the eight planetary posts. At each post is a Buddha image and at most there were pilgrims pouring water on the image, offering flowers and giving prayer. There’s one post for each day of the week except Wednesday, which is split in to two, a.m. and p.m. The day of the week on which you were born is your planetary post and is also associated with a direction (south, southwest etc.. the eight directions fitting nicely with the eight ‘day’ week) and an animal…..galon (garuda) for Sunday (ta nin ganway), tiger for Monday (ta nin la), lion for Tuesday (in ga), tusked elephant for Wednesday a.m.(bouddahu), tuskless elephant for Wednesday p.m. (yahu), mouse for Thursday (kyatha baday), guinea pig for Friday (thaukkya) and naga (mythical dragon/serpent) for Saturday (sanay). I think I’m a tuskless elephant but could be wrong…

I left Shwedagon Paya and made the most of the rain-free weather by heading down towards Kandawgyi, a large lake with wooden bridges and walkways occupied by numerous young couples each huddled under an umbrella or two for a bit of privacy from prying eyes.....I guess the older generation might not have approved ;0) At the end of the park was Karaweik, a huge rather gaudy concrete reproduction of a royal barge. The best part though was actually the walk between Shwedagon and the park. I managed to miss my turn and got a bit lost, but then as I stood tying to work out my map some young monks came over to point me in the right direction. Past a school where young children in their crisp white shirts and dark green longyi's were spilling out to be met by waiting parents or siblings, then down an alley full of food stalls selling all sorts of snacks and packed with clothing workshops where the whirring sewing machines were making only one type of garment - the red robes worn by monks.

Back near my hostel was Sule Pagoda, a 2000year old golden temple that’s said to house a hair from Budda and also doubles up a roundabout! At 46m high it towers over the manic traffic below, whilst at its base numerous small shops sell all sorts of religious and non-religious goods. In contrast with the gold tapering spire of the pagoda the surrounding roads are lined with beautiful old colonial buildings, some of which could easily be an old station or museum building in London.

After a few days in Yangon I'd seen enough and was keen to move on. My flight to Bangkok was just four days later so I couldn't go too far and in the end I settled on Pyay, some 6 hours bus ride north. Getting the bus was a bit of a hassle, not least because the bus station in Yangon is a 45 minute taxi drive out of town. I swear the bus companies are in cahoots with the taxi drivers - a few local buses do go to the bus station but take more like a few hours to do so, meaning the only reliable option is a taxi. The ‘bus station’ itself is more like a small estate with a shop/office for every bus company and no centralised ticket office to be seen - there are so many bus companies and routes that even the taxi drivers that continuously ply the route sometimes have to get directions to a particular ‘shop’ at the entrance.

Six ish hours later saw me arrive in Pyay and another hour or so after that I was relaxing at the top of the hill at Shwesandaw Paya, looking out over spectacular views of the town below and the wide river and rolling green hills that surround it. Whilst Shwesandaw lacks many of the peripheral buildings that kept me occupied for hours at Shwedagon I preferred it here - it was far more tranquil, just me, a few monks, some locals wanting to practise their English, families visiting together at the end of the day and young kids who were having great fun sliding up and down the hill below.

Pyay has a bustling market, mostly under the roof of a central building but with stalls spilling out into all the surrounding side streets. Having bought myself a kind of mini omelette thing at one of the food stalls outside I ventured into the main building to be hit by hot, stagnant air (no air con here ;0)) thick with a rather pungent mix of smells from the dried food stalls lining the edge of the hall. A slightly unnerving silence slowly preceded me as I meandered along the different aisles, the sight of a female foreigner on her own gradually silencing all conversation and the intrigued/friendly stares and smiles I got quickly turning to giggles and whispers once I’d passed. Stopping to browse or buy something caused a great commotion! Much of the market was concerned with selling material and clothes, with one section for men’s and the other for women’s. Any remaining space was taken up with household item stalls, with none of the usual veggies or dead fish stalls in sight ;0) As I wondered around I was approached by a local man, who was very proud of his home town of Pyay and keen to know what I thought of it, as well as the asking all the usual questions about where I was from, where else I’d been in Burma etc. We chatted for a while, me answering his questions and him telling me about life in Pyay, before finally he turned round, thanked me for coming to his country and left. This was the third time I’d had a local thank me for coming to Burma and I never quite know how to reply. The locals told me that they don’t see so many English and Americans tourists these days, particularly after travel advice posted by the respective governments, but whatever your nationality the people here are by far some of the friendliest I’ve met, always keen to know where you’re going, what you think of Burma and whether you’ve enjoyed our trip…. and usually they don’t want to sell you anything either!

Leaving the market behind I went off in the direction of the waterfront where a group of women were busy repairing and recycling grain sacks. Eventually I ended up at the night market in search of food and was soon seated at a noodle stall precariously balanced on a seat a few inches off the ground, much to the entertainment of the locals who all squatted comfortably around me whilst they ate. The stall owner seeing me sweat, albeit due to the spice in the soup rather than the now quite cool evening temperature, insisted on fanning me continuously as I ate… she was about 60 but no amount of protesting from me would stop.

My main reason for visiting Pyay was to see the ancient city at Thayekhitta, which ruled over the area from the 5th to 9th century. It's about an hour outside of Pyay by rickshaw and once there the ruins are so spread out that the only viable way to see them is to hire an Ox cart or motorbike - rickshaws aren’t allowed round. There was no chance of me getting on a motorbike so I said I’d go by Ox cart. The driver clearly thought taking me was too much trouble though and came out with all sorts of excuses as to why I should take the bike instead - there were no animals spare, the animals were out working the fields (although they looked very clean when they appeared a few minutes later) etc. Finally we set off, only to stop again 5 minutes along the track … suddenly the price he'd quoted for the whole two hour loop was an hourly rate and there was only one of me, it would be expensive, should we turn back etc etc. The ruins are, well, pretty ruined and whilst there’s nothing really impressive to see slowly going round the countryside, watching people farming in the fields, looking at all kinds of weird fruit and vegetables growing and passing through villages was good fun…once we’d got over the fact that I wouldn’t be paying more than we’d agreed of course! The terrain isn’t tough or hilly but progress is slow… Ox carts just go at one speed, whatever speed the ox wants to go at… and that’s never going to be fast.

Back in Yangon I found myself at the airport too early and as I tried not to think about the extra hour sleep I could have had I ended up in the cafe eating a v expensive egg sandwich and coffee with a young Canadian guy. He was lovely and told me all about how he had been visiting his dad who now lived in Thailand…. his dad who first started going to Thailand many years ago as a sex tourist... I guess that should have been a sign of what was awaiting me in Bangkok!

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Photos

The 23 tonne Maha Ganda Bell
Cast between 1775 and 1779 the British took it with them at the end of the war in 1825, but dropped in in the Yangon River on the war out of town!