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Published: November 3rd 2011
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Ok, so Tom has delegated blog duties to me this week as he's busy trying to perfect the lobster look so please excuse the lack of wit, long words and history. ; )
We had decided to take the slow train to Kalaw, famed for the beautiful landscape surrounding it. Trains in Myanmar are not like normal trains – for one, there doesn’t seem to be any sort of schedule. We were told to head to the train station round 8am, the train would arrive sometime between 9am and 3pm. Maybe.
In the end we only had to wait about four hours and spent the time people-watching – Myanmar really is one of the best countries for that. At some point a herd of cattle wandered calmly through the station – not something you could imagine at busy Cologne Hauptbahnhof. We hopped on the train and to our surprise found comfy seats and lots of leg room. The disadvantage of the slow train became apparent quickly though, it was indeed incredibly slow and – being built by the British and probably not having been touched since – rattled along, more often than not tilting at precarious angles. The beautiful
scenery did however make up for being thrown around (Tom managed to fall asleep anyway – he amazes me) and we went past sweeping hills, lush rice paddies as well as the odd mildly unsettling looking bridge.
Kalaw turned out to be a rather sleepy town with a big market and lots of tea shops. Unfortunately, I was stuck there for my birthday after a little bout of Burmese belly (or Italian belly I should say, as it was definitely the pesto) that had delayed us for a day. We had a little wander round town with Marco and Karin, our Swiss friends we had met on the way, went for lunch and did the one thing you probably don’t wanna do on your birthday – get on a 12-hour bus south to see… a rock.
We were by now pretty used to long bus journeys. Burmese people aren’t.
I was dozing off when I heard a big outcry next to me. Still half asleep and not really understanding Tom’s urgent call for wet wipes I turned around and took a look at the guy behind us. He had just thrown up, right on my three travel companions,
but had luckily missed me – I still consider that as one of my best birthday presents ever!
He wasn’t the only one: It wasn’t even a particularly windy road, nor were we going at great speed, but somehow the Burmese belly doesn’t seem to be cut out for this – there were at least 10 people vomiting.
Anyway, not to dwell on this unappetising point any longer, we also witnessed one of the great riddles any foreigner will marvel at at some point in this country – the power and wealth of the military. In the dark we went past the new capital, Nay Pyi Daw, which the government had had built from scratch somewhere in the shrubland. The city consists of administration and military buildings, a few hotels and huge newly-built roads that remain largely empty. The whole thing is lit up like a mix between Las Vegas and Disneyland. I swear I saw some illuminated reindeer on of the brightly lit roundabouts, or maybe I had slipped back into sleep at that point. Yet there don’t seem to be enough people (or cars) to fill all this – we weren’t allowed to go on the brand
new 8-lane-highway for example and most parts of the city are restricted for the public. How the military can justify these huge expenses while a few miles away people are struggling to survive is a mystery.
We arrived in Bago at the ungodly hour of 4am but our journey was by no means at an end. We waited 3 hours to get a monk-filled bus to the base of Mount Kyaiktiyo. There we got on a pick-up, a sort of converted tipper truck with wooden benches, and… waited. Apparently having twenty people on this thing wasn’t profitable enough, so we had to wait 40 mins for the truck to fill up. After another 32 people had squeezed in, I really don’t know how, we set off on what turned out as a free rollercoaster ride – it took us 45 mins to get up to base camp via windy and very steep roads. We were hot, we were uncomfortable, we’d had enough! We checked into our hotel and slept, not wanting to face the steep 45-minute climb to the rock itself quite yet. Besides, we were hoping to catch it at sunset.
We hadn’t been very lucky with
sunsets or sunrises except on the Gili Islands and the Golden Rock was no exception. After setting off, laughing at the tourists being hoisted up the hill in sedan chairs and realising pretty quickly why they didn’t bother walking – it was a very steep climb – we made it up, huffing and puffing, to see… mist! The clouds were gathering, robbing us of the much anticipated view over the mountain. Still, we had come for the Golden Rock, not the view, so headed along the tiled platform to have a look at this curious thing.
The Golden Rock is a huge boulder perched on the mountain top, seemingly defying gravity. According to legend, what keeps it in balance is a strand of Buddha’s hair. Pilgrims (I should say male pilgrims, women aren’t allowed near it) attach gold leaves to the rock, which is why it’s completely covered in gold. It is an impressive sight, made more charming by the great number of devotees who come and pray, light incense and pay their respect. We went back again the following morning, again out of luck as the clouds allowed no glimpse of sunrise. But the atmosphere was still enchanting:
In the morning hundreds of pink-robed nuns gather at the mountain top to chant and pray and then form a long line to receive offerings. They seemed a lot friendlier than the monks, smiling openly at us and giggling, when we took pictures. Some of the monks we saw were really serene, uttering prayers at every step, others greeted us with high-fives – I guess everyone’s different!
We attracted quite a lot of attention, not least because Tom was wearing a traditional longyi and I a sarong, so we now have an interesting collection of pictures with random people, among which a lot of monks.
Sadly, the Golden Rock was our last destination in Myanmar. We headed back to Yangon and, after a last meal, said goodbye to our Swiss friends, as we would take the plane to Bangkok the next morning.
We had already bought train tickets to head north to Chiang Mai from Bangkok. After having a good look at the news though, we decided not to risk going into Bangkok – the trains were cancelled anyway due to the flooding – and flew straight on to Chiang Mai. After Myanmar we needed to relax a
bit and recover from long journeys, so we decided to stay in pleasant enough Chiang Mai for a week. We did a rather disappointing day trip to the Golden Triangle, the highlight of which was the so-called White Temple near Chiang Rai – a rather extravagant modern temple decorated with glittering pieces of mirror and sparkling brightly in the sunshine – but otherwise just wandered the small cobbled streets, enjoyed Western food (Myanmar curries are quite similar after a while) and were extremely lazy.
We had planned to see Sukothai as well, one of the ancient Thai capitals, but there weren’t any buses due to the flooding, so we decided to take a costly flight straight to Koh Samui, one of the little islands on the east coast of Thailand. We found a nice little resort with an even nicer little beach and… relaxed some more. Travelling is hard work sometimes!
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