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Asia » Burma » Mandalay Region » Inle Lake
December 12th 2010
Published: December 18th 2010
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My group of Italian friends (Carla, Antonelle and Daniele) and I were tired from the 3 day trek but eager to explore Inle Lake – a large expanse of blue water in the east of Burma. The boat we were to explore in was a colourful wooden long-tail with seats running up the centre isle. Our driver was an old and friendly man with a weathered face who wore a pink-rimmed straw hat and fake ray-bans.

We spun around and began to cruise down one of the many waterways that file off the main lake. Our boat cut through the still water, past grassy banks and under bamboo bridges. The sun was high in the sky now and raining its now-familiar thumping mid-day blows on our heads. Fortunately our driver had a few umbrellas on board to shade us from the UV-onslaught.

We weaved in and out of a plethora of confusing waterways to enter a village at the far eastern side of the lake. It was a stunning sight as life buzzed around our wooden boat as if it were a normal village on proper ground. All of the housing was raised on wooden stilts and comprised of basic wood and thatch abodes.

It was a very colourful display indeed as we slowly chugged through the small lanes. Washing hung out to dry on make-shift balconies and bright green foliage sprouted from, and floated on, the still water. The cloud-less blue sky reflected everything onto the mirror-like still water beneath. The thatch houses looked like they had been precariously balanced on top of each other as the solid stilts entered the water to become slightly shimmering ones. The reflections were beautifully perfect, reversing everything they came into contact with.

We continued on, in and out of the myriad of canals around the houses and past much other traffic as we went. Many people were packed into long-tail boats like our own and we passed plenty of other small boats laden with supplies. We were also introduced to the one-legged rowing style that many of the fishermen employ. This elegant and graceful technique entails them standing up with their leg wrapped around an oar as they swish it to and fro with a powerful glide of their legs – wonderful to watch.

Our boat stopped at multiple sights on the way through these villages. One such interesting one was a lotus weaving centre where women were busy controlling complex-looking old wooden machinery to weave the fine, strong strands of the lotus flower stem. We saw one also being pulled apart and the thread-like strands pull away from the green stalk, which were then weaved to create a silky string.

We also visited the Floating Gardens – an immense network of farmland built on the water for the ultimate irrigation system. The grassy mounds that floated on the water to create canals allowed our boat to cruise through them – these same mounds also acting as a barrier ensuring the water around the gardens is beautifully still and the nutrient-laden water undisturbed.

The still reflections could only be told apart as our boat sent a v-shaped ripple backwards as it cut through the water. The stilt-frame gardens were awash with green plants creeping around bamboo vines and workers on boats tending to the fruit and vegetables being cultivated. They exhibited great balance and dexterity to work on their slim wooden canoes whilst attending quite rigorously to the tangle of green that surrounded them.

The long-tail reared its motor and powered out of the Floating Gardens and into a monastery which, because of its star performers, has been named the Jumping Cat Monastery. We entered and wandered around the ancient teak building, familiar with the earthen smell of old, dried wooden. The dark interior let in light-sabre-like shards of sunlight through various windows, illuminating the central Buddhist deities.

There were many cats asleep on the floor, scattered throughout the wooden compound. None of them looked remotely interested in jumping for our viewing pleasure however. Monk magic has allegedly taught them to jump through hoops and sometimes a performance is put on for tourists. I’m sure though that this spectacle probably has something to do with the guarantee of another meal as opposed to the powers of meditation.

From here we spun away and entered the main lake. The gorgeous blue expanse of water is wide, clear and framed by green hills on either side. The sun was low now, heading towards the hills behind us. The lake was a hive of activity, awash with fishermen and transport boats buzzing through the waters, carving up the glassy surface.

The fishermen were particularly interesting to watch. They employed many differing techniques to catch their prey and their fascinating methods appeared very old and traditional. Fishermen in some boats balanced on the bow, smashing the water with their oars. Like the powerful pistons in an engine, groups of fishermen repeatedly crashed their oars down, creating a great splash of white water and sending ripples fanning out in all directions.

Other fishermen, wearing wide-brimmed straw hats, used their whole bodies to balance themselves on their skinny wooden canoes whilst nets were wrapped around their legs. They appeared at one with their boats and equipment as they wormed their legs around rhythmically, luring fish into their nets. It was fantastic to watch and resembled a slow, methodical dance. It was so elegant and graceful.

Inle Lake is 11 miles across and so we surged ahead, passing many of the aforementioned fishermen with differing styles. We stopped at a point near the centre of the lake so I could have a swim. I was covered with the sweat and grime of 3 shower-less days trekking so the refreshing dip was wonderful. I swam alone though, with everyone else declining to join me! In just my (pink stripy) underpants (everything else was in the hotel) I dived off the boat and paddled around for a while, feeling the green reeds tickle my feet occasionally.

Back on board I dried off as we neared the lakeside town of Nyuang Shwe. We had just enough time to watch the sun slowly set. The shimmering blue water, punctuated with bright green reeds grew darker as the sun sank behind the hills, silhouetting passing fishermen and transport boats as it went.

Nyuang Shwe is quite a traveller-orientated town, set astride an inlet from the Inle Lake. It has plenty of hotels and restaurants to cater to the international tastes of tourists. We had been fantasising for the last couple of days about the feast we would enjoy this evening which we had all decided to be vast quantities of pizza and pasta – I am travelling with Italians after all!

We enquired at our hotel who directed us to The Golden Kite, located across town. Our tired limbs felt limp as we made the trip across town but the food was well worth it. The proud owner, enjoying having some native Italians for dinner, showed us round his kitchen and wood fired oven with great pride before we took our seats.

The food was delicious as we devoured a plethora of pizzas, tagliatelle and gnocchi. I thought it was sublime but my Italian friends thought the pasta needed more salt and the pizza base was far too chapatti-like. Overall it certainly hit the spot and provided a much needed carbohydrate injection for the waddle back to our hotel. I was very much looking forward to spending a proper night in a comfortable bed as well as a much-needed hot, soapy shower.

The following morning we had all arranged a flight to Ngapali beach, which is situated on the western coast of Burma, on the Bay of Bengal. After many days of tired trekking and sight-seeing under the scorching hot sunshine of the Burmese dry season we were treating ourselves to some r and r on the country’s premier beach.

Our group of 4 was reduced to 3 at the airport though as Daniele had to head to Bangkok via Yangon due to tooth troubles. This left the 3 of us to board the twin-prop Air Bagan flight to Thandwe. We motored off the runway and covered the distance (which would have taken 18 hours on a bone shaking bus) in less than 1 hour.

On finding some cheap accommodation on the beach we arrived at Memento resort in the early afternoon to view the beach. It was a wonderful sight indeed. The white, silky sand curves in a moon-shaped bay sandwiched between large green swaying palm trees and the beautiful blue waters of the Bay of Bengal and its large curling waves.

Thus began an afternoon of relaxation on a sun lounger, listening to the rhythmic crash of the waves breaking on the beach. The only activities we embarked on was some swimming, which involved battling the huge waves – which was great fun – and a wander down one end of the beach.

At this end of the beach, devoid of tourists, we caught the attention of a group of Burmese people working in a wooden hut. There were lots of women and children inside spreading out and collecting tiny fish in large straw baskets. The fishery industry here is central to the economy and that much was evident as we made the trip to the beach from the airport. The fronts of the thatched-hut homes of Ngapali village are lined with millions of little fish drying in the hot sunshine. The smell was overpowering but it made for a wonderfully exotic sight.

The group in the hut were sifting through the fish but spent a lot of time with us. They spoke no English but seemed to love posing for pictures with us all – laughing hysterically every time at the resulting photo. The children were aged from small babies a few months old up to teenagers, with women of varying ages with them – some in their twenties, thirties, forties and older.

They invited us inside, where we held our breaths and walked over the dry fish which was crispy underfoot. One or two asked if I was married, which took a while as no English was involved. It was a really funny experience and went even further in cementing the notion that I absolutely, positively love the people of this country more than any other.

The following day we chartered a boat for the morning and made our way offshore to an island for a spot of snorkelling. The waters around the chosen island were bottle green and the snorkelling surprisingly good. Whilst incomparable to the fabulously clear and teeming waters of Indonesia – this was good fun with some colourful coral and interesting schools of fish to observe on multiple dives down.

As well as this our boat chugged past bays crammed with wooden fishing boats, awaiting the dusk before they all converge onto the richly-populated bay for the nights hunt. On the way back we stopped at a deserted white sandy beach to enjoy the sunshine and a coconut before heading back to shore.

That evening was our final one together and we marked the occasion by having some wine with dinner. The food at Ngapali has been amazing – the seafood incredibly tasty and unbelievably cheap. The first evening I had an enormous dinner which included fries, a huge tuna steak in garlic and chilli oil with vegetables for just 4,000 kyat (£3-ish).

Following that, on our last night, I had four huge, sumptuously grilled tiger prawns with rice, fries and a banana pancake for dessert – all for 3,500 kyat. Incredible value for such fresh seafood, cooked to perfection. We drank red wine, which is also produced in Myanmar, further enhancing the versatility of their agricultural credentials. It was the perfect end to great journey and brilliant two weeks of adventure with my new friends. Great people that I fully intend on visiting in Rome / Sardinia / Salerno next year. Perhaps I will even be able to learn more phrases than the rude ones they have been teaching me in exchange for my English lessons!

I crept into my room that night, listening to the sound of the waves and taking in the twinkling lights of hundreds of fishing boats on the bay throwing their intense bright lights down to attract their prey. The following morning, departure day, the weather was positively awful. It was a good transit day as gloomy clouds rolled overhead constantly, dumping a relentless torrent of water upon Ngapali.

I was flying up towards Sittwe today, but very nearly had to spend another day here. Not because of the weather but the flight I needed was apparently full. The incredible woman at Memento Resort however fought with the travel agent, barking angrily down the telephone to secure me a seat on the flight. The wonderful woman succeeded; I could have kissed her.

She did the same for Carla and Antonelle, despite the fact it meant 3 more vacant rooms for the night at her hotel and losing $35 as a result. This is yet another characteristic that I love about the people here. The vast majority are not looking to squeeze every last dime out of tourists when they are here, leaving them jaded. They deal with everyone in a very endearing way with a kind of totally uncorrupted innocence that is so refreshing to see and experience. Service is not quite professional but it is done with a genuine golden heart that will do everything possible just to please. This has been true throughout the country which resembles a tourism toddler taking slow, cautious steps. I really hope it remains this way forever.

At the airport, the rains continued to lash down. The tiny airport at Thandwe leaked from various cracks in the ceiling and mosquitoes hungrily buzzed around my feet as I waited for the flight. It was 3 hours late because of the bad weather here but the Air Mandalay flight eventually bounced down the runway from Yangon.

My next destination is Sittwe – not far geographically but logistically hard and time consuming to get to. I would have had to endure horrid roads and a night sleep on a public ferry, or take the 40 minute flight from Thandwe. Sittwe is the gateway town for trips to Mrauk U – an ancient Rakhaing archaeological sight which is hard to get to and, as a result, delightfully devoid of tourists.


















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