Mandalay, Myanmar

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Mandalay

To get here, the bus ride from Yangon was a sixteen hour adventure sport over one of the world's worst major arterial highways. The bus was packed to the gills, with broken fold out seats at regular intervals in the aisle completing the concept of sardine heaven. We continuously jolted over ruts and potholes large enough to swallow mopeds, through one armed check point (where we had to get off the bus and show our passports), stopped at roadside diners so dirty the moths went elsewhere to buzz the lights, and I doubt we changed driver the whole way through.

We eventually made it however, so after finding a guesthouse and a power nap to rejuvenate some strength we hit the town to see some sights. We paid around 2GBP for a three wheeler taxi for the day - bargain. The wooden monastery called Schwenandaw Kyaung was first stop, an attractive and delicate structure dating back to 1827, interesting in the fact that it hadn't fallen apart due to its fragility or succumbed to fire in that time.

Teachings of Buddha, carved into 1,774 marble slabs by a hermit in 1913 (who must have been a faster worker than your average hobo - nice one Hermy), was next on the agenda. Each of these slabs are housed within individual stupas at a temple (name debatable and probably not important) nearby. The resulting field of white bell shaped monuments is very pleasing to the eye and photo lens, although difficult to gauge or present with any idea of scope or immensity. I have a feeling there probably isn't 1,774 stupas, but there is a lot - and as the temple is free it's well worth a drive by

Next was the central Mandalay Fort, a massive structure ringed by a wide moat, at the dead centre of town, that itself takes up around 4 km square of land. Slightly lightheaded from lack of sleep and the jubilation of bus survival. I approached the main entrance and skipped past the ticket counter. I wasn't keen on dipping another $US10 into the government's slush fund at this stage so I kept walking with my head down.

Once in the complex, one had to admire the structure, with funky walls (apparently up to eight metres high and three metres wide at the base) and imposing pagoda style defensive
turrets featuring regularly along each side. Unknown to me at this time.

Waiting at the exit for me were a handful of angry guards who at first demanded instant payment or else prison! After a bit of sweet talking and short discussion on how bad England were in the world cup I was allowed to leave and they wavered the fee.

Then came the piece de resistance - Mandalay Hill for yet another fantastic the sunset. It didn't look so big when surveyed from the bridge across the moat halfway down the eastern side of the fort, but when it came to scaling upwards of 1,000 dirty steps barefoot we opted to join a couple of Thai tourists and get a taxi up to the top!

The view of the city at sunset, the distant and immense Irrawaddy river and the ring of mountains beyond was a picture, a long way away from the chaos below. From my earlier travels through the mean streets below, I knew that Mandalay, despite its pretty name, has the same if not more problems with poverty, despair and discontent as Yangon.

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