Bago

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The Emperor Hotel is situated on a busy highway about 3 hours north of Yangon, even though it is only about 70kms away. There is constant road noise, as motorbikes, trucks, and buses seem to continuously pass by. In the morning, the Muslim call to prayer wakes me and I begin the day earlier than I’d expected to. Making the most of the early start, I take up an offer from a ‘motorbike taxi guy’ I met last night, to take me on a day tour around Bago. We start by visiting a monastery nearby, that’s home to about 1,000 monks.

We then ride to Shwemawdaw Pagoda, which is about 115 metres tall and can be seen from most parts of town. It is slightly larger than the famous Shwedagon pagoda in Yangon and has much less prestige and hype associated with it. Entering via the back entrance, I avoid paying the foreigner's fee. I do, however, donate a small amount to the upkeep of the pagoda. This is given with volition and goes directly to the temple.

Continuing onto the hill, where, as the story goes, the mythological bird 'Hamsa' landed aeons ago. Way back then, there was only a small hill of land in this once-large ocean. The female bird landed on the male's back to rest. It is now the highest point in Bago and has a temple called Hinthagon Pagoda. On the way there, we are stopped by an old lady who is giving fortunes. I’m asked to pick a question and then throw 5 shells into a bowl. The correlating number is the answer. I ask whether there is a future wife on the horizon. There is, and she is waiting for me in the north of where I live. To the question of how it will be between me and this mystery woman. She will love me very much but her family and friends won’t like me or agree to the relationship. The old lady smiles as children gather around us laughing.

My guide, ‘motorbike taxi guy’, asks to see my hand. A palm reader as well. He says mostly good things; that I will live a long life. Always a crowd-pleaser. That I am compassionate and will have a family late in life. Hmmm? And I will be very compassionate towards them. This is nice to hear, I admit. He also says, I am very sensitive and will have two wives. Ok, not good news for wifey number one. Also, it’s easy for me to get work in life. Well, it all sounds good, but I assume the golden rule for palm readers is don’t scare the customer.

We walk past a Nat ceremony about to begin. I forgot to bring my field recorder so we quickly ride back to my hotel to retrieve it. On our return, we are invited to sit, as it was about to begin. The dancer's colourful and elaborate costumes are exaggerated by the thick makeup on their faces. Traditionally, the dances are transsexuals or ‘gays', as I was told by my companion. The music begins suddenly, blasting through the speakers with a dramatic explosion of bangs and gongs. Chaotic and entrancing the music doesn't stop for almost three hours. The dancers change costumes (and characters) every thirty minutes or so, while the family, participating in the Nat ceremony, sit eating and drinking. They also pin money onto the dancer's costumes, the intermediaries of this strange ceremony. I watch, as fish are wiped clean and placed into the hands of the lead dancer. The family gather around making their requests known as he responds with predictions of the future.

The whole event is a weird and colourful display; playing an important role for many people in Myanmar. Animistic in its roots, I’m told that occasionally members of the audience can unexpectedly become ‘possessed’ by a nat. I start to feel dizzy and slightly nauseous. I convince myself it’s just from the continuous, mesmerising sounds made by the nat band. This is a unique experience. Being the only foreigner here, I thank the family before leaving, and for allowing us to sit with them during their ceremony. We wave goodbye to the band and walk down from the hill temple back onto street level.

Persisting on our day trippin' around Bago, we ride straight to the large reclining Buddha on the other side of town. It is humongous. As we approach from the distance, I see the back and torso of this giant sculpture lying across the horizon. It was built in 2002 and is a modern representative of the Buddha. His features are very anglo-Indian. This Buddha is relaxing and not dying or ‘Parinabbana’. I can't help but be in awe of the size, perhaps because in Australia there’s a slight obsession with all things big. The big banana, the big pineapple, the big prawn, mango, apple, sheep, etc. This relaxing Buddha outdoes them all.

Just up the road from this big Buddha, is another much older one. Originally built in 994 but restored in 1757. It’s 16 metres high and 55 metres long. I spend some time walking around and admiring the immense size and age of this monument. As I’ve seen quite a few dying Buddhas over the past few months, I’d say my favourite is the most modern-built one. Not just because of its size but because of its strange realistic appearance.

We head to another hill, on the outskirts of town, to watch the sunset. On the way, we visit a small monastery, where a large boa constrictor is sleeping. Touching its shiny thick body, it winces and moves. It is said to be the reincarnation of a Shan lady who came to the Abbott of this monastery and revealed her past life to him in a dream. After a busy day of visiting Buddhist sites, we relax and watch the sun slowly lower over the smoky landscape of the jungle surrounding Bago from onto the hill. With ancient temples in the distance, a giant snake below, and a shiny golden pagoda behind me, it’s a spectacular reminder to appreciate being alive in the wonderfully bizarre world we live in. Tomorrow I will go to Kyaiktiyo, commonly known as Golden Rock. The second most famous Buddhist pilgrimage site in Myanmar, after Shwedagon Pagoda. But now, I bask in the bright orange glow of the sun reflecting off the golden temple and shining into my eyes. Gongs chime as I’m immersed in this moment.

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