Noodle Soup and Bingers for Breakfast

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Swirling smoke from the ever present cooking fires combines with the rising sun light, piercing through the holes of the woven bamboo wall to create a dreamlike feeling in the small, mountain teashop. Great puffs of smoke emitted from the lungs of a man, who's sucking on a bamboo water pipe, resembles that of a great blue whale rising for air. The smoke almost completely clouds over the view of my other table mates. To my left, a young monk cheerfully slurps down a bowl of the spicy rice noodle soup that I have come to know simply as breakfast. In four days time he will leave his mountain monastery for the urban environs of Mandalay. There, he is excited to resume his studies in English. Sitting across from me is the man charged with helping two woefully equipped westerners find their way through the mountainous Lisu and Palaung villages of northern Shan State, Saw Myint. Also around the table is a young man who is showing not the least bit of hesitation about getting hitched in two days time and my Italian mate, Matteo. Reflecting on my current situation, the beauty of the nature around us, the malay that was last night's celebration, and the fact that I am currently munching on a deep fried ee-jah-kway and sipping on the instantly teeth rotting concoction la-pay-ee-cho, I reckon that things cant possibly get much better.

I am completely sure that in all of my life, I have never consumed as much weak, green tea as I had in the previous three days. I guess that is to be expected when walking through mountains villages that depend on the cultivation of the tea bush for survival. The hill sides around the largish village of Namhsan in northern Shan State are completely covered in green, leafy tea bushes. Tell me, what would be better on a hot, sticky day than a nice piping hot cup of weak green tea? A full days walk from Namhsan, I found myself drinking yet another cup of tea in a Buddhist nunnery high on a ridge line, overlooking the small Palaung village of Kunhai and the surrounding canyons and gorges. As far as I knew, the nuns were putting us up for the night and I couldn't have asked for a room with a better view. Saw Myint has many friends in the villages dotting the hills and as soon as we walked into Kunhai, he ran into a young friend who almost instantly invited us to his wedding. Unfortunately, we would not be able to attend, as the wedding was in two days. Instead of attending the big day, we were also invited to join his family and friends for a special gathering and dinner. As our small china cups emptied and my legs fell asleep from sitting cross legged on a wooden floor, our cups were filled and filled again with the familiar weak fluid. The hospitality of the people I have met in Burma has been staggering. Now, these nuns really knew how to throw down and have a good time, but we figured that in the waning light, we should take a stroll through the thriving mountain metropolis to see what kind of trouble the three of us could get into. Being that the dry season here in Burma is the season of love and weddings, there was no shortage of "jovial" people hanging around. It wasn't long before a particularly "jovial" older man grabbed both mine and Matteo's arms, rapid fired some form of language at us, and sat us down at a table in front of a huge feast. Looking around the table, I found that I recognized a few faces and realized that we were forced into the dinner of which we were invited earlier. I was told that this was a special Chinese dinner in which all the men at the table shared a wide variety of vegetarian (thankfully) dishes that were placed in the center of the table. As soon as one of the dishes was running low, a woman would shoot out of left field and refill the diminished delicacy. Nobody had to ask for anything, At the same time, if 'ol Drunkie felt like the two of us big noses didn't have enough of one type of food in our bowls, we would be scolded and a pair of chopsticks would exit his mouth, scoop up the missing food and deposit it in our bowls. When the last grain of rice was emptied from a particular contestant's bowl, the groom-to-be would be all over it like stink on shit, refilling the bowl with another scoop of the sticky rice. There was absolutely no way of refusing this service, mostly because I never learned how to say no in Palaung. This kind of dining seemed to me to be more akin to a competitive sport than a necessary requirement for survival. I used to think that I ate fast, but any one of these competitors could give the hot dog eating champion, Kobiashi, a serious run for his money. It may be the only meal that I have ever had that I felt more drained of energy than when I started.

The meal ended and the cigarettes and pear pressure to smoke them came on harder than in middle school. Ive never really entertained the idea of taking a big bong hit of tobacco out of a 2 foot bamboo pipe, but that seems to be the preferred method 'round these parts. After choking down 4 or 5 cigarettes with the guys, it was time to warm our feet near the bowl of hot coals and try to have a conversation with the groom's father. I got the distinct feeling that we were stealing some of the groom's attention (mercifully, it seemed) and becoming the guest of honor when out of the haze of smoke and unintelligible chatter, came Gwen Seffani's voice informing us about her "humps" Obviously, the only song they had in English can on for our enjoyment only. When asked if "you like", I responded "Is provocative and its the only song we will skate to". The reference went unnoticed. The night quickly deteriorated with 'ol Drunkie adopting the, as I like to call it, "The American in Mexico" communication (I know he cant understand me, so I'm just going to speak louder and slower until he does) and a slightly less drunk, younger guy confusing me with soccer scores and stats. I feel very under equipped in this country not caring in the least about soccer. Both men wanting to be heard above the other started to play a little game of grab-ass with each other. There was nothing that even sweet Gwen Seffani on repeat could do to keep this night from going down a bad path.

We excused ourselves quietly to return to the nunnery and see what those crazy ladies were up to. The night took a 180 degree turn when we got there and joined a few of the nuns and a few young monks around a cooking fire. By that point I was getting used to not understanding a word of the conversations around me, but sitting around the fire, sipping hot tea, in that company, I didn't need to. It was surreal. The conversation went on and when Saw Myint finally gave us an update, he said that the young assistant monk had invited us to his monastery to sleep for the night. This 27 year old monk had spent the last 21 years living the life of a monk, first in Mandalay and then having to move to the hills of Kunhai. I cant even imagine being so single minded focused on one way of life. Jotika, as he called himself, was excited to get back to Mandaly, where it wasn't so cold and where he could continue his studies in English. Finding himself in the company of two English speakers, sitting around a clay table, hot coals burning in the center, sipping yet another cup of tea, he thought it a good time to practice some of the English words he found hard to pronounce. With much instruction, he was able to grasp the oi sound in "boy", but the word "girl" was much to hard to get right. Thinking quickly, I was able to give him an alternative word for "girl" that he would find much easier to pronounce. Hopefully now, somewhere in Mandalay, there is a young monk showing off his abilities in English by talking about the differences between boys and chicks. We must have stayed up until midnight chatting, trying to understand each other, but mainly just soaking up the moment. I was learning that this is a very special corner of earth. There cant be many places left where a someone would invite 2 complete strangers to share his holy dwelling, especially with me smelling the way I must have.

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Photos

Noodle Soup
Jotika and his bong blowing buddy.

Kunhai
A view from the nunnery.

Monastery in Kunhai
A pic of the monastery we stayed at in Kunhai.

Home
Home for the night in Kunhot. Saw Myint with a bunch of family.

Festival
This was a big celebration at a temple near Hsipaw welcoming 100+ novice monks to their studies. I was told that a celebration of this size was a rare thing to see in those parts.

Flying Gibbon
Near Pyin Oo Lwin.