Bugger. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I just hit copy and C at the same time, but slipped and erased the whole blog entry right at the last minute. Very annoying. I am finally back in Yangon and have internet connection fast enough to listen to music at the same time as I write the blog and I have a whole country to write.
After the scary flight into Yangon (they are all scary for me) we grabbed a taxi for $10 to Cherry Guesthouse. The real price is around $7 but we were too tired to haggle at the beginning. The hotel was around $20 when it was supposed to be $15 maximum. It was the start of the realisation that prices in Myanmar were going up quickly everywhere. It will soon be very difficult for solo backpackers to go on holiday here if it isn't already. I was worried about finding a money changer in the country, but our guesthouse sent us in the right direction. Or at least I think they did, but we couldn't find the place and ended up changing money at our hotel for around 840. The official government rate is now around 780 so there is not a great difference. On the street we were quoted up to 890, but not necessarily by trustworthy exchangers and if you want to change big sums it may be beyond them as they have mainly 1000 notes, so it would leave you with a huge pile of cash. The infernal titanic music was still stalking us all the way across Myanmar. Why were they so obsessed with this song and Celine Dion in general. We were battered last night on a night bus by a medley of Celine Dion covers. There were loads of French people in our hotel, so I assume it must have a good rating in Routard. Its a nice place. We went for a walk around the old town, which has scatterings of colonial era buildings and is quite pleasant. The Lonely Planet walking tour inevitably ended up in markets, so we cut that short. We were accompanied by a young postcard seller who persistently tried to sell us stuff in three languages. Impressive stuff. Initially we balked at paying for the street food as it seemed ridiculously expensive, but it turns out that food is just prohibitively expensive for locals outside of the meal staples. We headed out to Kandawgyi lake. This is a beautiful place. You can walk around the lake on the wooden boards and the place is full of local couples and families. They gave me a sticker, which I lost halfway round but noone seemed to care too much. Afterwards we headed to the Schwedagon Pagoda for sunset. At every pagoda in Myanmar they have people who can look after your shoes for a 'donation'. Only the donation is compulsory (I don't believe that's the point of a donation) and their job is totally pointless as there is almost no crime here. We declined their and subsequent polite offers and elected to carry our shoes with us. Up the stairs the pagoda is a really pretty place and easily the best of the identikit gold pagodas that dot the country. People were hanging around at the top and there is a nice atmosphere. We went to a really nice Indian restaurant afterwards, which I just had lunch in now as well, before watching Predators in English (having only seen it in Spanish in Barcelona).
The next day we watched Up in the Air while we waited for breakfast. Then we headed to the local supermarket (lack of importing ability means there are not many supermarkets in the downtown). We pieced together a picnic as best we could and took the circle line train. It was interesting and rammed full of locals. You pass through a number of suburbs and we had intended to get off at Insein to see a pagoda and white elephants, but it battered down as we pulled up to the station and we decided it might be better to get off at the other side of the lake instead. The rain stopped. We got off the train. The rain started again. Excellent. We ended up sheltering in a hotel and having the picnic there. Then we set off for the lake. We were sent one way, then the other, then back again, then the other direction again, got sent back from a military base by a friendly soldier and eventually ended up in Inya Lake Hotel. A fate that has befallen many other tourists. We weren't in the economic bracket of the clientele here, but this part of the lake was nice. In the end we had to go back to the main road and walk past a decomposing dog or maybe pig and some begging children copying our walk before we saw Aung San Suu Kyi's former prison house. Quaint little place. The lake is only so-so though. We walked all the way back and got accosted by the guys 'you want change money.' 'No it's ok.' 'I have good rates.' We found them a day late.
Our first day we had had a really good local breakfast. Our second and subsequent days however would consist of some fruit, some form of egg, sweet toast, shit jam and nice coffee. Still it was food. We headed to the train station to go to the Golden Rock near Kyaikto. The LP argues against the train, but having experienced a few trains and buses let me set aside Lonely Planet's agenda and lay out the real facts. Never did our train break down. Our bus did once. 1-0 Train. The train can be bumpy like a wild west carriage and sway like a town drunk, while buses just bounce around. 1-1. You have more leg room on a train. 2-1 train. You can walk around on a train. 3-1. You have a toilet 4-1. You interact with more locals. 5-1. You get better scenery. 6-1. Outside the main routes it is much cheaper (7,000 kyats or $8 by bus for Golden Rock, compared to $3 by train), but long routes and nights are better by bus. 7-2. Buses are probably marginally more comfortable. 7-3. You get a free water on the bus. 7-4. Train stations are in the middle of towns so taxi fees are massively less (In Yangon its $7 each way and 45 minutes to the bus station and only a 100m walk from the train station). 8-4. Overall Lonely Planet is far from honest with the transport and I would say that the train is the much better option for the day, while buses are better for night transport I would imagine. Trains also have natural wind from the windows rather than fridge freezer aircon but that's personal preference. The train station guy even walked us too our train (albeit the wrong carriage). When we found our mistake we were moved, though I left my hiking boots behind. The seats are wooden and you can be catapulted a bit, but not too much. We bought some sweetcorn from one of the myriad of vendors who swarm the train like ants at each station. Another wonderful experience. We finished. Dilemma. No bins. Where do we throw it. Shit. We watched the locals. Some kids threw stuff out the window, but not adults. We were sitting opposite some monks as well. Bugger. Would they be offended. Some adults tossed an apple. That was my cue to sneak off to the toilets and dispose of the sweetcorn. Happily back at the seats having held onto the damn things for an hour, the monks just cracked open a red bull. What with the blatant begging for money, huge collection boxes and buddha statues that looked like my first art class papier mache projects topped with Vegas strip club lighting, Cannelle was getting disillusioned with the 'purity' of Buddhism. We arrived on time at the station and headed to the base of the mountain to get some accommodation. Cannelle chose the shitty room over the good one because she thought I preferred it, but with breakfast on top we ended up switching back. Oh well. We got the truck up the mountain. Interesting experience. Its got around 6 planks in the back for around 40 passengers. Get a seat on the side as you can use the metal bars to support you. In the middle you have to grab hold of a plank with your fingers as my legs were too long to brace myself and I almost broke my thumbs holding my weight as he truck pitched up and down the hillside. 25 minutes of pain later we were there. Hmm they had sedan chairs to carry people up to the top. Interesting. I could not ever imagine paying people from a former British colony to carry me up a hill. We had travelled up there with some Americans and an old Austrian who looked and sounded like an old Arnie. A hot, sweaty 30 minute walk later we were at the top. The golden rock is not bad and worth a trip. The views were obscured by clouds. There are some places that women can't go, but nothing too major. One is to put the gold leaf on the rock and the other is to a 5m 'hill' which is full of weird dwarf like crappy tacky buddha figures, like some kind of buddha nativity. A guy approached us with his baby to speak to 'uncle' and 'aunty' but the baby didn't like Aunty Cannelle and kept crying. On the way down we passed a package tour of Japanese and American tourists who had no problem asking men to carry the fat lazy arses up a hill, all the while taking photos of them on their I-pads. It is not something they should have been proud of. Arnie was striding the truck like a colossus on the way back. He had failed to obey any of the temple dress code, but who was going to tell him that. An American asked him if he would come back to Myanmar. His response was a great 'Why would I come back when there are so many countries to see. It's a Lonely Planet after all.' Funny if you read it with an Arnie accent. We went to the Chinese place near the truck stop for dinner and went to bed early.
In the morning Cannelle was feeling sick, so we limped slowly to the train station, where we had to wait, because the next train was at around midday. We met some French girls, who had spent a week in Inle lake. Everyone seems to spend a week there. It must be amazing or there aren't loads of things to do elsewhere. There were some little mice busily scrambling around the train carriage for food and I wrote something about toilet gymnastics. Sadly I can't remember what that was about as I am sure it was fun. We noticed kids were standing alongside the trains all the time and it was then that we noticed that locals would always throw food to the kids outside the trains. It was here that I also noticed that every slightly flat or slightly raised area of land was covered in a fucking gold pagoda. Everywhere. George Foreman came to mind. 'I liked it so much, I put a paaggoooda on it'. We got a lot of taxi hassle in Mawlamyine after cruising across the pleasant bridge. First impression was that this place may not be worth visiting. That was later reinforced. Fucking Lonely Planet. There map sucked. I can only assume the lazy bastards take taxis everywhere and so can't draw a real map as we ended up 3km south of the hotels, Cannelle was sick and the light was fading. With lots of help from the local people we eventually found the hotel, which was a bit crappy and anxious to push tours. Cannelle hated the bedroom and the town was a bit shitty. The ferry to Hpa-An had also been cancelled. We got some cream for a rash that she developed. Its not totally gone even now, but its much better. We ate in a nice restaurant on the waterfront where all proceeds are given to the elderly in the town.
In the morning we walked around, but far from a pleasant colonial town, it looked a bit like a shithole. Still there are some nice buildings. Someone told us that the tours are good and maybe we didn't do the place justice. Then again people like the giant reclining buddha and it looks like shit. I am not sure why almost all the buddhas are awful pieces of art, much like early European religious paintings. I don't think we saw any we wanted to take photos of, because they were all shitty and even worse tacky. With no ferry we opted for the local bus to Hpa-An. The scenery down here is really nice and its also a really nice town. Sometimes you just arrive in a place and get a good feeling like Jajce in Bosnia. The Soe Brothers place is really nice. They don't push any tours and give you all the maps and logistics to see stuff on your own. We didn't see many tourists at all in this part of the South. Just 4 or 5 from Yangon to Yangon. It was blissful. Indeed in all of Myanmar we only took transport with other foreigners 3 times. The people in Hpa-An are also the nicest we met in all of Myanmar and that is some achievement because the people here are really friendly. There are only two problems. One is linguistic and its frustrating not to be able to talk with loads of locals. You can talk with people in tourism, but they tell you what you want to hear and certainly won't challenge any of your beliefs about the country so it becomes a self perpetuating 'reality' created and fuelled by travellers. The second problem is that the people are a little distant and cold. Super friendly, but emotionally a little cold. It may be a cultural thing as Europeans on the whole are also super cold in comparison with Latinos. We went to a local place on the way to the pagoda, on the right just before the Tiger Hotel. No name. Amazing fish and they just kept piling up our plates with soups, salads, sides etc etc and two bottles of water for 3,000 kyat. They even gave us another water as we were leaving. Really nice people. I assume the locals at Inle Lake and Bagan were like this before the tourists. Still most tourists only visit a few places in Myanmar and the rest are still super nice. Cannelle was too sick to climb the mini mountain and it started raining again, so I went to find her some brioche and chocolate.
In the morning we took bikes and headed for Mt Zwegabin. We wanted to do Saddar Caves as well but they were closed due to the rainy season. 10km cycling and a 750m high mountain climb on no food. That was probably not a great idea. The scenery is really nice on the way. Probably the best we saw in Myanmar, along with the gorge. You keep thinking you have reached the base, but you have to keep cycling until you get to the crossroads at the far end of the mountain with 1000's of slightly less tacky than normal buddhas on the left. Pass the buddha army and then you have a nice, long, hot climb to the top. Its also slippery (wet or dry) as its smooth rocks. You pass up too many steps to count, some trails and a rocky, craggy, mini gorge. The route itself is worth it. One word of caution. If you get to the house part way up, go straight on. I thought it was that way, but Cannelle thought the red sign pointing right was the way. I figured red in this country usually meant prohibited of dangerous or something military. All bad. Anyway we went right. After 15 minutes of sliding and scrambling up, we abandoned it and went back where I had two spectacular falls, including landing square on my elbow with full body weight on concrete. I think I fractured my arm below the elbow, because a deep bruising covered half of my arm and I still can't put any weight on it two weeks later. The bone has kind of boomeranged out of place as well. Oh well. Fractures fix themselves. We went down the rest on our bums being eaten by microscopic, nasty little ants that you feel a long time before you see them. Back on the trail we met a monk and four local women and they invited us to join them for food. The monks ate first while we watched and the monk kept whacking a cat. There is a big difference in animal cruelty between Thailand and Myanmar. In Myanmar there are few domesticated animals and they are constantly smacked so that they are afraid of people, while in Thailand there are many domesticated animals and lots of people feed the stray dogs etc at night so they are much more comfortable with people. One dog on the hike up to golden rock even hid in the forest to avoid having to be close to us. We ate and the the monks collected their 'donation' before we all got a blessing. That was a little awkward not being a believer. Then Cannelle got stung immediately after and the heavens opened up to heavy rain. I would hate to see what would have happened if we hadn't got a blessing. On the way down we saw a monkey. Then we heard a scream. Two women came running as a troop of around 15-20 monkeys surrounded us and walked up the path. It was a cool experience as both sides were a little wary and respectful of each other. Cannelle was shaken a little bit by it though. Having negotiated the monkeys we stopped in a shelter, but the guides would not come in. Again it was another indication of a clear divide in society. Its too clinical and cold. Its human that if it rains everyone should be in the shelter. Fuck protocol and societal restraints. The already super slippery path had turned into a potential deathtrap so we spent as much time coming down on our bums as we did on our feet. It was a long and arduous descent. At the bottom we abandoned any further ideas of visiting places due to fatigue and injury and cycled back.
The following day we got a bus back to Yangon. This one broke down and needed a replacement wheel that took almost an hour. Yeah so much better than the trains so far. We had opted to stay in Yangon for a night because Cannelle needed to see a doctor for her rash. They gave her some cream and tablets. She walked about 200m down the road on her own and got hassled a lot. Different than when she is with me. Spurs beat QPR and we ate a super expensive sushi as Cannelle needed something to cheer her up. We ordered what we would do at home, not realising that they are about twice the size here. So it was hard work getting through them. The next day I wrote the last entry in this blog. New Orleans continues their losing streak (currently 0-4). We went back to the Indian and took a taxi to the bus station. There they wanted 200 kyats to enter, but would not tell us why so we refused to pay and the taxi driver had to pay in the end. We took a bus to Inle Lake and we were off to the place everyone had raved about. Just enough time to get bombarded by dodgy Phil Collins covers and to be woken up by the voice of god telling us it was dinner time. Jesus. The buses in Thailand had been too quiet, but the buses in Myanmar are super loud and super freezing. Onwards to the lake.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment