Bumbling Around Burma - Part IV : The Final Chapter

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The Bus from Bagan to Kalaw clocked in at around 10 hours and was positively the worst bus journey of my life. About 30 people rammed into a bus which should probably only take about 18 passengers max. I had zero leg space crammed in next to some lumpy Italian feller and to my left on a stall using my left flank as a rest were two Burmese women, chickens flapping about in baskets, people throwing up and lobbing their vomit bombs out the window creating a general waft of vomit in the air equalling to an all round aroma of pure shitness led to a rather unpleasant journey, give me Chinese water torture any day. Alas we did make it to the mountain town of Kalaw, greeted by relatively cooler climes.

Greeted at the bus stop by two Punjabi brothers we were escorted to the Golden Lily Guesthouse, here Steve and I double teamed with some French bird called Steph from the bus to organise a 3 day trek to Inle Lake. We did do some shopping around town as all guide books tend to lead you to the Golden Lily guesthouse where it seems that they have the monopoly on the trekking industry in the town. This becoming evident at the bus stop when one of the Punjab brothers was attacked by one of the locals for stealing clientele when the bus arrived. Anywho, after a bit of shopping around town most tours were actually booked up for the proceeding day so we had very little choice in booking up through our guesthouse, who’s prices seemed to have varied since their 1st initial quote, against us as opposed to in our favour, this however was bought to their attention and they backed down and we got the trek for the original price quoted. Prices varied depending on the number of trekkers in the tour group, they stated that the maximum is generally 5 people, so be in so the tour was now stated at being that of 5 people we got a cheaper deal. This all being settled we checked into our room where I was greeted by someone else’s poo bobbling about down the John, we then went for dinner.

The following morning we was introduced to our trekking guide John, along with six extra trekkers to the apparent five, this was eleven people on our tour, now my maths isn’t too much to write home about but eleven isn’t five, its eleven, the whole reason that eleven is not five is because eleven is six more than five, which makes eleven, this all according to my calculations means that there would be more than just five people trekking to Inle Lake with us....because there were eleven of us....eleven. ANYWAY, I guess this is the way things work around these parts when five isn’t five but its eleven instead, we would just have to get on with it. To make matters worse there were no fit birds in our group, all in all we had 3 English guys including Steve and I, 3 Frenchies, 3 Germans and 2 Swiss.....that 11 people.

And so our three day 60 k trek to Inle began. Our guide John was a sound guy, but to get any information out of him you would have to draw it out of him, he would keep his knowledge close to his chest if he had too. My main interests were the wildlife but unfortunately that wasn’t his fortay, I noticed a wader type bird in one field and I asked John what kind of Wader it was, he hesitated, and with debatable confidence confirmed to me that it was an Eagle. ‘Yeah alright John’ I said, it was no eagle, but still what he lacked in wildlife knowledge he made up for in knowledge of the local people and their traditions. We passed by a number of rice paddocks, wheat crops and grazing buffalo. Some Buffalo cooling in off in dykes having a break before heading back to work the land. We passed through several villages en route to Inle, meeting and greeting the locals, the children all waving and saying ‘bye-bye’ upon greeting us, some words lost in translation somewhere along the line.

One advantage to having the larger group is that if someone is a tosser you can usually ignore them and go and talk to someone else, if of course you feel the necessary need to communicate with others of course, which is not always an out an out necessity of my dietary planning’s. My first impression with one of the French blokes ‘Jean Luc’ was ....’COCK’, he asked me if I spoke any French, and I said ‘no’, and then went on to say that ‘no English people speak French’. Of course I politely informed him of this idea that I have whereby I will never go to France so speaking French would be a pointless procedure, plus the fact that the international language and secondary language to most countries is English anyway, so as I already speak English then it’s not my fault that I lucked out by not having to speak French and make stupid garlic munching noises. So Jean Luc got put on ignore mode which would forbid him from writing on my mental wall, and I certainly would not be letting him comment on my photos or poke me for that matter.

As our first day came to a close we stopped by at a rural railway station for coffee and watched as hawkers eagerly tried to off their wares to the folk on the train. As the sun began to set we made way to our homestay, a well crafted wooden affair based up a flight of steps, underneath the house lived the livestock. We washed via well and bucket and crapped in a dunny in a little shack at the bottom of the garden, we eat by candle light. I looked at the sleeping arrangements, their where five plus five equalling to ten mats and blankets all lined up next to each other on the floor, ten but not eleven as one of the German guys left towards the end of the afternoon as he was only on a day trip. I eyed the bed on the end which looked like it had about 1 and a half spaces in which to move around whilst sleeping, this would allow me to not be packed in like a sardine as the rest of the riffraff would be and to avoid as much human contact as possible as I slept, this plan in effect worked, although it didn’t discourage Jean Luc from snoring like a complete French cock and the Swiss guy Mr Mctrumpy Pants from farting his arse off all night.

On our second day we trekked some 18km to a Buddhist Monastery, we were greeted and invited to stay in the grounds by the head monk, we parked our gear in our more spacious chambers in the monastery and went for a little walk around the village. A new road was being cast to make the monastery a more accessible venture to the outside world, whether this was a good or a bad thing only the future can dictate. But as it was evening everything was humble and quiet, just as you’d imagine it to be around a Buddhist Monastery. Most of the monks were young boys who would start their days early reciting mantras and learning of the Buddhist ways.

After a small trudge around town, Steve, Steph, Liam and I found a vendor that vended warm piss, it had been a long day so warm piss was better than no piss. So we purchased the said warm piss and drank it in a small out house a few metres away from the Monastery, piss naturally being forbidden inside the foundations of the monastery, and by piss I mean beer, not piss.

There was definitively no lie in the fact that the young monks started their days earlier, at about 4am we was awakened by a booming mantra which continued for some time, it was actually really well orchestrated and soothing to just snooze to in my nice warm blanket. After their mantra recitals the young monks went and did their studies and we again met the king monk who filled us in on the history of the monastery and Buddhist life, to which now 4 months down the line as I write this has pretty much left the vicinity of my mind, but it was definitely something about religion and no beer, but I think they can piss.....yeah....they can definitely piss.

After breakfast and saying our goodbyes we made way on our final day towards Inle Lake. We had a bit of a trudge uphill for an hour or so but once at a steady elevation offering fantastic views across rural Burma we concluded with a gradual descent into a village bordering Inle Lake. In and around the village were a series of small canals and houses raised upon stilts, crops surrounded the area, as the locals traversed the waterways via punt. It was here where we were planted into speed boats and tailored out onto Inle Lake for an hour or so, the lake was huge, some 22km in length Fisherman were working the lake for the big catch as passengers were ferried about across the lake to their respective dwellings. The livelihoods of many are dependent upon this natural resource, a way of life established here for many generations and many more to come, the daily fight for survival in many cases.

As we arrived at the central hub of Inle and said our goodbyes to our fellow trekkers we checked into Aquarius Guesthouse perhaps one of the cosiest places to relax in after a 3 day trek, if not one of my George Bestest guesthouses I have ever stayed at, a nice little lounge area in the shade to chill out and read, excellent furnishings to aesthetically please, comfortable rooms, hot showers, and we were spoilt rotten with trays of fruit, nuts and tea, not to mention the exquisite breakfasts, the cookies were divine! I could have stayed here relaxing for many more days to come, sadly this would not be the case, the unavoidable was on the cards, the 16 hour ride back to Rangoon....YAY!

And so concludes the two week stint in Burma, the big four have been conquered, the highlight for me being that of the 3 day trek from Kalaw to Inle, when Burma opens up a little bit more for tourism, maybe certain areas in the mountainous North then I am sure many other great trekking opportunities will become unravelled, the country being the second largest in south east Asia surely has much more to offer, all in time though. The people of Burma being gratefully helpful and very friendly throughout my trip, thinking back I can barely recall any funny business like encountered several times in neighbouring countries, and for this I am thankful, and one hopes that in time change will bring a brighter outlook to a much deprived country.

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