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Published: August 6th 2007
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Its the water festival, celebrating Myanmar's new year, and we're shielding ourselves from buckets of ice water to no avail. On the train we're sitting ducks at the mercy of hoards of kids ambushing you from either side with water. We try to close the metal grate on the windows but the older, more experienced kids pry open the shades from the outside using a bamboo pole while the younger kids laugh and scream while throwing water with all their might. I've given up, accepted that I will be wet and cold for the entire 12 hour journey. Jarrod, on the other hand, tries to be proactive and waits near the door where two cars join - where the kids have to balance their buckets and climb over to reach the other side - and dumps the kids buckets back on them while they scramble between the cars. His strategy proves somewhat effective and produces more laughter from the unexpected offense. The small towns and villages are the worst, ALL the children have gathered to wait for the train, the largest influx of defenseless people each day. Over a four day period the Water Festival seems to be a time
when the children torture adults with no consequences. In the city young adult males also join in the fun and ride around town standing in jeeps with the top down. One hand grips the roll bar and the other holds a beer as they cheer and sing while being bombarded by buckets and hoses on either side of the road. Needless to say, it wasn't safe to take a camera out for photos, the children are merciless to electronics.
Our Guide: Naing Naing
We boarded the train in Kyaukme where we had spent the past three days trekking through mountains spotted with tea trees amongst the pines. The villages earned their income from tea picking and their dirt yards were covered with bamboo mats drying tea leaves in the sun. Naing Naing (pronounced like the number 9: 9-9) was our trusty guide, a 41- year old father who grew up in the hills, spent two years in the army against the government, some time in a jade mine and countless other adventures, learned English from tourists and an archaic, weathered dictionary.
Not only was the scenery spectacular (miles above the Kalaw-Inle route) but Naing Naing kept
us entertained with magic tricks (which I could never figure out!) and shocking stories of his home country and things the government gets up to. We stayed overnight in villagers homes, sleeping on mats and washing out of a bucket. The locals spoke no English yet were hospitable, refilling our bowls with rice and cups with fresh, local tea and waiting until we had finished a meal before starting theirs. We walked the paths walked by generations of villagers where no car or motorbike had passed before. We would hear the odd family singing in the distance, filling the hours while they picked tea but other than that we were alone on dirt paths skirting the mountainside.
During the day villages were ghost towns, only the very old and very young hid in the shade weaving bamboo baskets or taking a midday snooze. All the others were out picking tea returning just before dark when the village finally came to life with voices and the sounds of dinner preparations. By 8 o'clock things were quiet again and by 9 o'clock you could almost hear the stars twinkling in the night sky.
Back to Mandalay
After only
one four hour break down on the train we arrived back in Mandalay close to midnight and quickly tucked into a hotel for some well needed sleep. The following day we packed our camera and important documents in plastic zip-lock bags (to keep safe from the buckets of water) and toured around in what would best be described as a mini Mazda truck; the cab would be a tight squeeze for two grown men and the back was outfitted with lengthwise wooden benches fitting just three per bench. We toured ancient cities just outside of Mandalay visiting a teak monastery with individual posts taller and much straighter than trees out on Kozier Farm, a lookout tower now leaning precariously from an earthquake, and U Bein Bridge - the longest teak wood bridge in the world (1.2km) was very atmospheric at sunset.
With Mandalay sightseeing complete we caught a passenger boat down the Irrawaddy river. We spent much of the time sleeping and chatting with our new travel buddy, Michael from Seattle, who we met up with and trekked with back in Kyaukme and ended up staying with for the remainder of the trip. The boat was filled only with
tourists (half tour-bus, half independent travelers) and it was the most tourists we'd seen together in one place so far. It was a pleasant trip and we arrived at our destination, Bagan, in the early evening.
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