Mandalay

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The long painful bus trip from Bago was tiring, so I’m happy to not do too much after arriving in Mandalay. I find a cheap room in a hotel, then go to view the sunset from on top of Mandalay Hill. The stairs up are never-ending. Hundreds of steps. I start my ascent late, so I don’t make it to the actual top for sunset, but the view is still far-reaching. To the west, you can see the wide Ayeyarwady River. Through the haze of dust, smoke and pollution, the horizon is a vague blurry line in the distance. Descending slowly back down the concrete stairs, I meet some young monks who are studying at a monastic educational centre. They tell me it’s the largest in Myanmar with 7,000 students. We talk and they practise their English. After shaking all 15 monk’s hands, they say goodbye repeatedly.

As Mandalay is a hot and dusty city, I decide to travel to the northeast mountainous region in the Shan state where it will be cooler. Before I leave, I wish to visit the third major Buddhist site in Myanmar - Mahamuni Paya. My first impression is that it feels old. It is said to have been made in 564 BC. In the cooler evening hours, I wander around the temple complex. While sitting in front of this sacred sculpture, along with many others, I stare in wonder at its beauty. This bronze cast sculpture has been sitting here for nearly 2,500 years. All those people that have sat here staring at its shiny golden skin. Generations of people have lived and died and still, it sits here; staring back at them with the same serene smile on its face.

I try to comprehend this. What is the Buddha doing? Smiling eternally solidified and indifferent. Where is Buddha's compassion? In a metallic sculpture? How can it care for the suffering of the people? Every morning it gets its golden bronze teeth brushed and polished. It will most likely be here in another 2,500 years. Will people still be coming here to sit and bask in his shininess then? I tire from all my unanswered rhetorical questions and get a trishaw back to my hotel via the dark generator-driven streets.

Due to my laziness and unwillingness to walk more than a block away from my hotel. I have a banana split for dinner. Sitting here eating my dessert seems ridiculous, exuberant and indulgent. I think about the precious jewels and gold decorating the Mahamuni. And the photos of generals placed at the base of it. The junta government is out-of-control. Generations living and dying as I sit here eating my banana split in the hot, dusty night of Mandalay.

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