Mandalay and Northern Shan State

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Got off to a bad start on our trip to Myanmar when our Skippy peanut butter was confiscated by security in Bagkok airport. They also prevented out taking unopened bottle of rum from Phnom Penh duty free on to plane but Skippy a much bigger loss! Things went from bad to worse when we discovered that over half our American currency was unacceptable. Now, when we left home we had crisp, clean U.S. dollars for this leg of our trip. Unfortuately, we had to dip into our stash in Sumatra, northern Thailand and Lao. We decided to replenish our US funds in Phnom Penh as Cambodia runs on the American dollar and dispenses them from the few ATM;s in the country. However, the banks in Cambodia stamp U.S. dollars with little stars or - get this - little skulls. This rendered our money unacceptable in Myanmar, although the country's own money is filthy, ragged and often appears (and smells) as if dug up in a cemetray. Because there are no banks, we tried to get a cash advance on our credit cards from our little family owned hotel in Mandalay, but the interest charged to do so is 37%! (MISSING)In theory, it's 27%!,(MISSING) but you have to pay interest on the amount you want and on the extra amount required to pay the service charge. Large government-run hotels permit tourists to get a cash advance of up to $100/day at a 7%!c(MISSING)harge but you have to stay there (we were not). We thought that we would have to leave until two really sweet cyclo drivers took us to a private tourist agency that accepted some of our marked up US dollars as they have import-export business with China. The agency It's located behind the Sedona Hotel, right beside the ladies whom you see cracking enormous bags of nuts by hand, hour after hour.

Other than the above money problem, we loved the "Hotel by the Red Canal" in Mandalay. It's owned by a man from Indian with family in the city and it is easily the cleanest, prettiest little place in town. The staff are dusting and scrubbing at all hours. The hotel's restaurant serves delicious Indian food and the staff are endlessly obliging. There's even internet, in theory. It rarely works, except briefly in the early morning. One curious fact was that if we identified the country or a city therein by name, the internet immediately shut down. Maybe this was just a weird coincidence, or perhaps the internet is closely screened. Anyway, we gave up trying to use it.

The hotel is easy walk to most of the town's attractions, including the main market, where we ate freshly cooked chapatis and curry sauce for $2.00. The chapatis were cooked on a enormous griddle at the side of the street, and served by a very serious 6-year old. We walked back to our hotel past the palace that is now used to house military personnel, but which still looks exotic from the outside in the setting sun. Reaching our hotel we saw a very accomplished swimmer doing the butterfly in the narrow and very dirty canal that ran by our hotel. Got up early next morning to climb Mandalay Hill before the heat became too intense. All along the route, here and elsewhere, we were approached by people who were desperate to sell us little knick knacks or services. Most could speak at least a smattering of English. All adored "The Lady," but said that her opposition to tourism hadn't hurt the government with which China, Japan, and Indian, along with others still merrily trade. They said it hurt only the locals, some of whom borrowed money from the government to set up little tourist- associated businesses and now couldn't repay their loans. For any of you who may be wondering whether to go or not, we would say, if you go, make the effort to do it on your own. It's not that hard. Once you find one good taxi driver/guide, he will hand you off to another friend in a different city and so it goes. They always knew of little hotels or guest houses that were owned by individuals, and all of them turned out to be quite acceptable. Maybe we didn't have hot water or electricity more than 4 hours a day at each place, but the inconvenience was minor. And we got to talk to local people, all of whom were anxious to tell us about the situation in the country or their own life. We met one painter who did great black and white drawings using only a razor blade to make a design on white paper over which he had first smeared ink. He did one on the spot for us. Also met a wonderful old man who did watercolours. He absolutely had to sell these. There was no other source of income for his family, but he made his sale in a very dignified manner.

We hired a driver for 4 days to tour the surrounding ancient cities and to go north. Off we headed to Pyin U Lwin in his 28-year old rusted out Toyota Corolla and did we ever learn a lot about the country while on this tour. His wife had their third child on the day we departed. We asked him if he wanted to stay with her and have one of his friends drive us, but she was determined that he take us because this work with us was the longest that he had had since September. The birth had gone well, and her mother and sister were with her. Everyone is terrifed of having to go to the local hospitals, which he told us are commonly called "killer hotels." Military and government officials go to different hospitals, often staffed with foreign-trained doctors.

We stopped in one town to pick up a locally-prepared herbal tonic for new mothers which he told us was superior to any medication she would get from a doctor. We drove north on the only decent road in the country, one built 10 years ago by the Chinese to transport trade goods from Mandalay to China. Travel on this "good road" is still dangerous, due largely to the fact that truckers drive at night to avoid the spontaneous police and military checkpoints that are really an opportunity to collect money and that are often unmanned at night. During the day truckers smoke dope to help them sleep in the heat of the day and at night they take uppers to keep going. So, stay off the truck roads after dark. Also, make sure you have enough gas. Our driver explained that gas is rationed and as a private taxi driver he can only purchase 1 gallon per day. There's enough to go around and the price would be stable if it were sold in a normal fashion. Rationning it forces drivers to buy gas on the black market where the gas is purchased from the military, which makes more money again and so it goes.

We reached Pyin U Lwin and visited the botanical gardens which had been established by the Brits. Just gorgeous and a total surprise (especially the free-ranging black gibbons with the startling white eyebrows), until we learned that their maintenance was being funded by a member of the elite who had a swanky hotel and wanted to encourage tourism. We stayed at the Dahlia Hotel which belonged to a friend of our driver. For $20 total, we and our driver each had a comfortable room and breakfast was included. That night we had dinner at the Family Restaurant down an alley off the main street and the electricity kept failing, but not the supply of curry. Every time we started to finish a plate, the waiter dashed off and refilled it until we managed to convince that we were no longer hungry. Cost was $2.40 for the two of us! Strolled around the night market, which was filled with colourful horse carts and folks cooking Indian food over little charcoal braziers. It had quite the party atmosphere and we learned why the next morning.

We wanted to take the local train to the next town, where our driver would meet us to continue our drive north. The distance was short, but the ride was 5 hours long. It's cachet was that it crossed the Gokteik viaduct. When it was built for the Brits by a Philadelphia firm over a 100 years ago, it was the second-highest railway viaduct in the world. When we reached the train station, the scene was absolute pandemonium due to it being a major Hindu celebration. We had paid $4/each for a ticjet in a reserved seat in First Class. Well, 1930's era wooden coach with seating for about 50 people had well over 200 people in it when we forced our way on. No glass in the windows so passensgers and multitudes of food hawkers entered and left carriage through windows. We indeed had two seats on a wooden bench but in the two seats facing us sat 3 adults and there were 7 children piled on large bags on the floor. They cleared enough space for us to sit on the seats but there was no room for our legs! After much jockeying and smiloes we managed to gain a foothold on our bench and were quickly joined (sat on) by two of the kids. Oh well, part of the fun of travel.... We finally reached the viaduct which is still officially a military secret. Train passengers are not supposed to photograph it, although everyone did, but one doesn't get off the train to do so because the track near the viaduct is heavily landmined. The train slows down so that to creep across the viaduct because it is so old. Passengers tossd money out iunn order to placate the gorge Nats (Gods) and one of the ladies seated across from us hung her small child out the window so she could have a pee - Wild!!

We finally reached the end of our train ride and continued by car to Lashio, where we stayed at Mr. Charles' guesthouse, which is really the only place to stay in town. Had a great conversation with Mr. Charles, who is Karen, and who told us about his village in the hills which had been burned so many times in battles between the government and minority fighters that he had relocated to Lashio in northern Shan state. Also had an interesting chat with a German lawyer who was here to check supply sources for a type of wild plant root that contains a substance which mimics a hormone that is supposed to aid against impotence and aid in menopause. The company had exhausted its Thai source and not been able to cultivate the plant. He said that northern Burma was a treasure trove of all kinds of medicinal plants.

Our goals were not so exotic. The town is a good place from which to hike to visit local hill tribes. We also wanted to visit the nearby home of the last Shan Prince of this state, who had been married to an Austrian woman, Inge Sargent, in the 1950s. The Prince was quite progressive, turning over much of his land to the people who farmed it, refusing to accept feudal payments, teaching new agricultural methods he had learned at university in the U.S., starting schools, etc. His reforms annoyed the Burmese government. In 1962, he was kidnapped, never to be seen again. His wife and two daughters were placed under house arrest, for 2 years until they were permitted to leave to Europe. Two relatives remained in the family home. One had just been imprisoned while we were there.

Our hiking plans never got off the ground. We both got horribly ill from something we ate (fresh vegetables), especially Helen; so did some English girls whom we met. We spoent next 36 hours in bed and/or racing to the bathroom. Not fun. The English girls were taking the train back to Mandalay and were going to have the same kind of ride we briefly had, though the comp[lete trip is about 14 hours. Neither of us could have faced that crowd again. We were so glad we had our own transportation to return to Mandalay. Arrived still ill but looking forward to our trip to Bagan.

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