Three Days Afloat on Inle Lake (17 - 19 January 2012)

One hears of perfect locations, crystal clear waters surrounded by wooded mountains and topped with azure cloudless skies, beautiful warm days, chilly star filled nights and misty dawns, a place populated by happy friendly people, where life seems to have stood still for millennia. Shangri-la? No, welcome to Inle Lake.



Inle is a freshwater lake located in the Nyaungshwe Township of Taunggyi District of Shan State, part of the Shan Hills. It is the second largest lake in Myanmar and one of the highest at an altitude of 2,900 feet (880 m). During the dry season, the average water depth is 7 feet (2.1 m), with the deepest point being 12 feet (3.7 m), but during the rainy season this can increase by 5 feet (1.5 m). It's main population are Intha people who earn their living with fishing and agriculture.
Yes there are tour groups here, more than we'd seen elsewhere. Typically late middle aged, badly attired French. However the lake at 45sq miles was plenty big enough to avoid them.



We spent three nights here at the Sky Lake Hotel and loved it. On both days we hired a man and a long boat to travel around, avoiding the more heavily touristed sights. The driver must have thought us mad, declining offers to visit the cheroot, silver, or lotus weaving villages. And avoiding taking pictures of the long necked girls, whose necks are stretched with brass rings. They appear to be brought into the shops to demonstrate weaving and embroidery crafts, but somehow to us it felt they are being exploited as photo ops, so we declined.
By the time we surfaced on day one for breakfast at 8.30, the hotel was deserted, apparently everyone leaves at 6.30 for their trips, their bird watching and their treks, we'd agreed on a 9.30 start, oops! Anyway, the long, narrow boat arrived, it appeared to be made from a large hollowed out tree trunk. Boarding without capsizing was an art, (one which we never did manage gracefully....) and sitting in three wooden armchairs, like the three wise monkeys, in a row facing forward, we sped off across the mirror lake. Bunches of water hyacinth floated by, one legged fishermen shouted out their "mingalaba's", families rowed past with young children. There were many stilt villages on the lake, the dilapidated bamboo houses, elevated about 2 metres above the dry season lake level. We wouldn't like to live in them when the rains come.



Our first stop was Indien, about an hour's trip from the hotel. The cold chill of the morning as we sped across the lake soon gave way to warmth as we slowed to navigate the narrower tributaries. We passed through Ywama, one of the larger lake villages, and then along an increasingly narrow channel, through bamboo groves, past wallowing buffalo, and women washing themselves and their clothes, before arriving at the long boat car park! There were some tourist stalls, the first we'd seen, we ended up buying an old sponge ware bowl, reminiscent of Llanelly pottery, obviously left over from the days of Empire. We are all templed out, so we ignored those and David found himself playing pied piper to a pack of young puppies as he fed them biscuits. They rewarded him with a lick on the hand and paw prints on his jeans. Gill followed with a hefty dose of Gill jel.... Not ones to linger, and with a lunch recommendation in our pockets, it was soon back in the boat and on to Nampan where we'd been told that there was a stilted Italian restaurant called the Golden Kite. We'd been eating curries for ten days and so pizza was an attractive option. To be fair we enjoyed good pizza and carbonara pasta, washed down with secret water, enjoying sitting in the shade, as boats sped past, locals going about their business, we were chilling out and enjoying the view.



The return journey was via some huge floating market gardens. These are floating bamboo rafts, piled with soil, and tended from dugout canoes. All sorts of tasty looking veg was being grown, especially beautiful looking tomatoes, apparently Lake Inle is the tomato capital of Burma. At least they didn't have to worry too much about watering their crops! We didn't stop, the hotel beckoned. We returned to the sound of welcoming drums in the mid afternoon sun. We were the first back, so our day was short but we were happy with our trip and had seen the lake. Afternoon snoozes and reads beckoned. No charging of any electrical gadgets however, no power till 5pm...



Sunset was the next highlight, again, sneaking secret water. We sat looking over as the sun set over the hills in the far distance. A few lights twinkled on the far shore and a couple of larger crop burning fires glowed in the hills. Apart from the odd swish of water, it was silent. The weather here has been cloudless blue skies all the way, and whilst at the lake, due to its altitude, we had much cooler evenings than we had been used to. But the real upside of that is that the clear skies, together with the lack of light pollution, gave us an amazing starscape each night. We discover that none of us are in the running as the next presenters of "The Sky At Night", and weren't even sure that our iPads had us in the right location as the Starwalk app confused us a bit. But overall, we think David won star knowledge on points..... Obviously being on stilts over the lake, with no roads in sight and no headlights on boats, we had to eat at the hotel, which mercifully was great, we are especially loving the bei ji made of soy sauce, garlic, chili and lime. Ant and David added it to everything. Burmese food, surprisingly isn't very spicy and Ant and David had to add "with big spice" to every food order, and then they added more bei ji....

The lake area has a rotating five day market, we had avoided the one the previous day at Ywama, it's floating and apparently overrun by tourists, so we went instead to the next day's one at Maing Thauk, just a five minute boat ride away, through some narrow channels, where we nearly capsized! The market wasn't so touristy, mostly locals, the tarpaulins were slung low for shade, meaning that we kept bumping our heads as we wandered past the fish, meat, (you had to be there to appreciate how gross that was), vegetables, rice, and great imported plastic Chinese household goods stalls. David did some shopping remembering to hand over the money in the traditional way, give with right hand whilst holding your left hand to your right lower arm.



One of the things we'd really enjoyed at the hotel were dinner plate sized tofu crackers, we'd assumed they'd been made at the hotel. However, the market was full of them, lying in the dust, and being nibbled by dogs! It didn't stop us eating them again that night though, but we did inspect each one closely for doggy tooth marks.... The old fashioned blacksmith was doing a brisk trade in knives and David got himself a haircut for 1000 kyats (just under pound). A most enjoyable hour.



Our final stop was the town at the north of the lake where we had first arrived, Nyaung Shwe A backpackery town, with a nice vibe, but still not crowded. We spotted a sign that asked 'are you tired of rice?'. The answer was yes, so we followed the sign down an alley or two to the Inle Pancake Kingdom, come Internet cafe. We sat outside in the shade, on this dusty backstreet whilst David failed to download any emails, the Internet is shockingly bad everywhere, and here it was next to useless. They did a great plate of chips though, which we devoured followed by sweet pancakes of various flavours. Yum. Maybe there are some benefits to a few tourists! A slow stroll around this dusty town, past a few monasteries, past horse and carts and the heat was getting to us all, so it was back to our waiting boat driver and the trip back to the hotel.



The lake is really beautiful and we were all sad to leave the next day. It was a very different three days, quiet, peaceful, pollution free. The main thing it had in common with the rest of Myanmar was yet again, the friendliness of the people. It wasn't even as cold as Gill anticipated, at one stage she only had five layers of thermals on! Really recommended for a less chilly than anticipated chill-out...


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Manndalay to Inle Lake "You're Safe With Us" (17 January 2012)

Another day, another alarm call, to get to the airport to catch an early flight from Mandalay to Heho to go on to Inle Lake. This time up at 6.15 am, out of the hotel by 6.30 am and into a waiting taxi, an aged maroon Toyota that would not have looked out of place in an episode of Starsky and Hutch. We rattled out of Mandalay in the pre dawn light through streets that were filling up with people. Mandalay is an early to bed, early to rise city, and even at this hour the streets were teeming with people on their way to work or having breakfast in the many roadside cafes. Little wonder that we could not get a drink or food after nine at night- everyone is in bed by then.
The airport was about an hour from the city - once again the Burmese authorities have not held back in their grandiose vision for what seems to be a vanity project and yet another underused facility. The terminal building has extravagant pagoda-esque features, but take a closer look and it is just a large tin shed, and the empty car park gives lie to the idea of Mandalay as an airport used for anyone but tourists. Empty gates and vast runways, where the small propellor planes are dwarfed, point to a vision for Mandalay as a busy hub that is fanciful in the extreme at present.
Check in was quick, our bags were tagged and we sincerely hoped that we would see them again in Heho. Gill was less worried about seeing the bags at Heho, more concerned at seeing each other at Heho in one piece.... We were given stickers to wear denoting our airline, today we would be flying with Yangon Airways. Their slogan is, "You're Safe With Us". Given the dubious record of certain Burmese carriers, we hoped that Yangon Airways would live up to this.
The small domestic area of the airport was crowded with tourists heading off on the next leg of their Burmese Odysseys, and the only way to tell them apart was the airline sticker they were wearing; Air KBZ, Air Bagan, Air Mandalay, Asian Wings, Yangon Airways, Mynama Airways. We all lined up in our crocodiles to board our buses to our flights, which were leaving in quick succession. This was certainly a slick operation, BAA could learn a thing or two. The only exception to this were the monks who were travelling. Their colourful robes required no gaudy airline sticker, and they even had their own waiting area, a sort of Monks' Executive Lounge, if you wish - but without the free booze...
We boarded our flight and settled in. Despite Gill's misgivings the plane seemed to be in good condition and we could not detect any Sellotape holding the wings together. As we taxied early David looked longingly at a Myanma Airways Fokker 28, was it the one from Cafe Flight we wondered? These planes have long since stopped flying in the West as they are so old and the airline is not noted for its safety record. This really would have been a step too far for Gill but the height of fun for David. Indeed, we have since discovered that the Myanma Airways Fokker on which we had dinner at Cafe Flight in Nat Pyi Taw is actually the remains of a flight that crashed a few years ago...
The flight to Heho was a short hop. In flight service consisted of a fizzy drink. After 25 minutes we made a rather bouncy landing at Heho. This would have taken us twelve hours by train and six by road. Time for the next leg of our trip to Inle Lake.



We negotiated a price for a pickup truck for the hour's drive to Nyaung Shwe, the town nearest to Lake Inle from where we needed to find a boat. We could have paid only a fraction more for a real taxi, but Ant decided that we should save 5000 (£4.50) kyats "for the adventure". At this point David reminded him that the adventure would pass after the first ten minutes of bouncing around clinging on for dear life, and this proved to be the case as we rattled along mountain roads, around hairpin bends, and descended towards the lake.


Nyaung Shwe is the main drop off point for the lake. A busy canal cuts through town and the jetties were busy with the traffic of people and goods to the lake. It was a 30 minute trip on a narrow wooden motorboat to the Sky Lake hotel.



As the channel gave way to the shimmering main body of the lake we were enchanted by the view of the lake and surrounding mountains. Lake Inle is justifiably described as one of the highlights of Burma and currently graces the cover of the Lonely Planet guide to the country. Most iconic are the fishermen who row with one leg. This is no mean feat given the small size of their boats and the co-ordination that this requires. As we entered the lake the boat slowed as we came alongside several fishermen. This was obviously a photo opportunity for a small fee, but in reality there is no need to do this as you will see so many real fishermen during any trip across Inle Lake.



We chugged serenely into the Sky Lake Resort to the sound of traditional Burmese drums greeting us. We were rather less graceful as we clambered out of the narrow boat, fearing that it might capsize at any moment. The hotel is built on stilts over the lake and each room is an individual cabin laid out around walkways branching out from the main part of the hotel. The lake is clear and from our verandas we could see to the bottom, with fish weaving between the weeds. The rooms were very large, a bit tired, but clean and spacious with everything that we could need for a short stay (and this from Gill - except heating...). Electricity is available during evening and night time and hot water was plentiful.


We spent the rest of the day having a long lunch and a lazy afternoon before watching the sunset over the lake with a cold drink. The hotel seemed eerily quiet and the bar was reminiscent of the Hawaiian Ballroom at Maplin's Holiday camp, but after a few lime sodas with secret water, we really didn't mind so much. This was the perfect spot to chill for a few days. Luckily, Gill's fears of extreme chill in freezing temperatures didn't come to fruition, and Ant, who hadn't believed it could even get remotely cold here at night did have the grace to admit that even he felt "a bit nippy" at one point...



The staff were really attentive and tried so hard to please. We ate a hearty dinner of curry washed down with Myanmar beer and wine we had brought from Mandalay, cheerfully chilled and served with no corkage charge by the hotel. Then to bed, warmed by a mountain of brightly patterned heavy blankets, listening to the silence, and after a long day we were excited at the prospect of seeing more of the lake in the morning.




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Thrills not spills in the hills of Pyin Oo Lwin (15 January 2012)

In days of old, to escape the heat of Mandalay, the British Raj (then Burma was considered by the Brit's to be part of the Imperial Indian Empire) headed for the hills to the cool of the hill station of Pyin Oo Lwin. We did likewise, albeit for a day trip. Being strapped for cash we opted for a shared taxi. This sounds more exotic than it sounds. It involved going to the corner of 25th and 83rd street, finding a battered white estate car, held together with string and the back storage area loaded with stuff (think these act as the local delivery service too...) and paying 6000 kyats each (about £5.50) to a man in a dark dusty shack. We sit three across in the back, no mean feat, but as there are no seat belts, we felt this cramming in was more of a safety measure, we couldn't move! The front seat was more expensive so had to wait for this fourth passenger to show up. None did, so we eventually went to a gentrified area to collect a maid from a General's type house, she could afford to sit up front! An interesting area - a sub-General suburbia if you like, a collection of detatched villas on smallish plots, all protected by tall wrought iron fences and security. One even had a small swimming pool, all so different from the other houses we had seen.
It was a bum numbing, eyes shut tight, whacky races kind of trip. 90 minutes, 42 miles, 1000m climb, white knuckle, big truck avoiding, hair pin bend, blind side overtaking, adrenaline pumping, Muttley laughing, car falling to bits nightmare.







Pyin Oo Lwin, is run down in Indian kind of way, a small replica Big Ben clock tower marks downtown, then parades of run down shops, surrounded by the Anglican church, mock Tudor houses and cooler climate fruit and veg gardens. By this time, tummies were rumbling (in a good way considering our location...) and we'd heard of a British era bungalow on Club Road, that had good food and a terrace, and unsurprisingly, if not imaginatively called The Club Terrace Food Lounge. It had our name on it and indeed the curries were great. We ignored the handful of other tourists there. What is it about Burma, all the tourists apart from us are ancient. The restaurant was actually a genuine relic from the 1800's (bit like the other diners....) and the garden, now slightly neglected, would not have looked out of place in Surrey. The tables were set out on the wooden verandah where the Sahib would have taken a peg or two after being out all day taking taxes from the local population.... Gill did a bit of a Hindi thing and went back to a previous life as a Memsahib; she almost found herself saying "jaldi, jaldi" very sharply when the waitress was a bit slow with the stee rye....



David motivated us to visit the national botanic gardens on the outskirts of town, a good 30 minutes walk away, but as time was passing quickly, we asked for a taxi. Gill was mortified when two motorbikes showed up. It was to be her first three on a bike experience! Anthony on one and Gill and David perched on the other. Gill was the lucky one who was offered a crash helmet, her head still itches thinking about it.... But the two glasses of local wine at lunch helped our balance and increased the giggle count... The gardens were magnificent, the first well maintained thing we'd seen for weeks. Happy families, groups of teenagers, all incredibly friendly and inquisitive, we progressed to a chorus of mingalaba's, and even had a group "mingalaba" chorus from a huge group of kids at the gate. The whole place was reminiscent of a huge British Park the way they used to be, which is, we suppose, exactly what it was, but with the odd tropical bit added... The lake, municipal flowers beds and aviary were great, we wished we'd had more time, as too soon we needed to head back to town to get a shared taxi.



First challenge to get back to town, the local tourists were using tiny Cinderella coaches pulled by frisky ponies. In we squeezed, like the three ugly sisters squeezing into a skin tight carriage! Poor pony. My big fat gypsy wedding had nothing on us....



Before hailing a shared taxi back in town, we casually headed back for coffee and cake at the Golden Triangle cafe, where David enjoyed a creme caramel, whilst Gill hovered with Gill gell! However, the shared taxis had finished for the day, now what? We were advised to go to a roundabout outside of town in the increasing darkness and try and find a pick up truck that was heading back to Mandalay. Oh the glamour! Our predicament didn't stop us spotting an old junk shop en route. We went in for a rummage, bought a Buddha, and a few old battered lacquer betel nut boxes and a brass tiger. This turned out to be an investment as on hearing of our predicament, the owner called a friend of a friend and produced a shared taxi! Perhaps there is something in this karma business after all. He was our hero. We were still three stuffed into the cheap seats in the back, and we toured town looking for a fourth, richer person who could afford the front one! We ended up at the hospital and collected a lady who wanted to do the same trip. She spoke no English which was bad luck for us, but she did buy us the most disgusting prawn crackers at a mid way truck stop. They stunk. We sat in the back giggling and pretending to eat them. It was a nice and very generous gesture, even with our dollar issue we probably had much more than she did but to be honest I think we were hysterical with fear to be driving on these roads with only sidelights! Yes, for the return trip, we were driving blind at night...... Never has the road to Mandalay been so hair raising, and never has anyone been so pleased to see the end of the road to Mandalay.




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Much Mingapalaver in Mandalay (13 - 16 January 2012)

Our one and only word of Burmese is "mingalaba" meaning hello. It's taken us over a week to learn even that much, but in Mandalay it was a word we used over and over again as everyone greeted us like royalty as we drove along in pickups, walked, went in to restaurants, strolling in the backstreets, this must rate as the friendliest city in the world, ever. It took Ant a little while to his greeting right, on many occasions, it came out as "mingapalaver", but it still elicited a nice smile from the recipient, but probably because he sounded like the British policeman in 'Allo, 'Allo! Even as we were negotiating our fare from the boat dock and turning down outrageous offers, and offers from tiny men on trishaws to take us and our luggage for miles, everyone was friendly and charming. We checked into the Mandalay View Hotel, not one of our better choices, but clean and very welcoming, with a sign outside, even if a little "tired" with weird bathrooms, and the location was good.
Arriving quite late, we ended up eating at the Green Elephant, a chi chi touristy sort of place with average food and expensive why why. But no matter, we are really adept at the secret water trick so ordered lime sodas all round and spiced them up ourselves....
As we had left the hotel a young guy with a really old tiny Mazda pickup type vehicle asked if we needed a taxi, which we didn't but the next morning decided it was a good plan to hire him for the day, especially as he had good English, to go to the various places we wanted to see.


It was tiny, a big squeeze to fit into, blue and 43 years old, which it sounded, but at least for that day, kept going. We had great fun whizzing down the wide streets aound the palace flinging out mingalaba's to everyone who came near, and several moped drivers approached us as we drove along to say mingalaba to us. We were like royalty waving to everyone and getting great smiles in return. We are non partisan so we also waved to passing policeman and military. They were invariably pleasant back even as they waved their machine guns....



But our first port of call was wonga admin. We needed to pay for as much as we could on credit card to hang on to our waning stack of pristine dollars, so had to visit the Hotel by the Red Canal, the very posh sister of our more soap dodger sort of hotel, the Mandalay View, where we could pay for our rooms with credit card, the only place in Mandalay to take them. We also needed to find out if they could book flights for us too and pay on credit card, which we could, but at a swingeing 27% commission, but it was either that or no beer, why why or food. No choice really! But we didn't know what flights we wanted so had to repair to a travel agent to see what was available. You can't find out any details of flights or book online, even of you can find working internet. And even if there is a published domestic flight schedule, it is pure fantasy apparently, if they go, they go, if not, well, whatever... Schedules seem to depend on bookings.... The travel agent was a revelation. Loads of agents acting like a trading floor in London in the 'eighties who were long on flights..... Phones going, people shouting, paper, yes, paper tickets with the old red carbon and hand written with the details going down in a big ledger. No computerisation here! But that was just booking, to find out first what we wanted to book we had to go next door and speak to a poor girl whose English was really bad and ask about flights, hotels, etc. After a tortuous hour or so, particularly for her, we had a plan, and booked our Lake Inle hotel and had worked out which flights we wanted to book. But even booking and paying apparently isn't always a guarantee that a flight will actually go...so, much palaver....


So finally enough of admin, we were ready to go and see the delights Mandalay has to offer. We went first to the gold pounders' district where extremely well muscled and bare chested men pounded away at gold squares to make the gold leaf to be used to adorn the local buddhas. Ant said it was like standing in a mirror.... We purchased a few gold sheets and then went off to use them at the Mahamuni Paya pagoda. A very sexist pagoda this, only men are allowed to place the gold sheets onto the huge Buddha which was becoming rather mis-shapen as people (i.e. men) lay on the gold sheets day after day, year after year.



Gill had to be content with the job of team photographer as the real men went about their religious business, and she watched them being telecast onto a rather snowy flatscreen.... David had to be redressed in a longyi and had terrible trouble with his knot.... He was almost the first person to be arrested for indecent exposure as he climbed the stairs, trod on his longyi, and nearly lost it... But once they were up on the platform, the other men were helpful in showing them the local laying on of gold technique as we womem watched adoringly.... And one nice man even gave them more sheets to put on, perhaps they had such a good technique... good karma all round.



By then we were in need of lunch and our first choice where Lonely Planet had promised us lattes was closed down.... The only other place in town where we knew a latte could be found was the City Cafe and off we went in our noisy Mazda. At this oasis in a desert of decent eating places we tucked into pizza's, beer and in the absence of why why (again....) a G & T for Gill. Suitably refreshed we carried on our religious education and visited Kyauktawgye Paya, the pagoda with a huge marble Buddha, then an ancient teak monastery, Shwenandaw Kyaung, then finally to the set piece of Mandalay, Mandalay Hill, a 750 step covered walkway up a steep hill, barefoot.... But at least it would help walk off the pizza... On the walk up we were accosted, in a nice way, by a local man who was a private English teacher who brings his students here so they can improve their English. He was interesting and told us that the English teachers here are not good, they teach only grammar and not idiomatic language and that was what he wanted his students to learn. But frankly the students, a mixed group of sixteen year old's were more interested in flirting with each other than learning any idiom from us! Our grammar of course perfect is so if they may talk like what we do she would be good.... But he was interesting, not too hopeful on the future of Burma, but said he had done his bit in the '88 revolution, and it was now the turn of the younger generation to fight on for democracy. There were various smaller temples on the long walk up, and the pagoda at the top is not one of Burma's most shining examples, rather scruffy and it felt more Indian than anything else. There was also a memorial to the Gurkha's who fought here in 1945. We stayed till just before sunset taking in the fantastic view of the city, the Irrawaddy and its flood plain in one direction and the Shan mountains in the other, before taking the 750 barefoot step walk down. And given our dollar issue, decided to stop off at the Hotel by the Red Canal again for their free cocktail hour, we are behaving like real soap dodgers now... And were very antisocial, sitting the other side of the small pool, knockin 'em back (four each....) as we watched the clean and tidy guests the other side.... By this time it was getting late as we had planned to go to Desmond's (well, actually it's called Too Too's, but we do like a nickname...), so we set off on the walk there around the palace walls. It was interesting, obviously Mandalay's answer to Lover's Lane as courting couples snuggled into each other in the chill of the evening. We did see one other restaurant on the way, Cafe Brolly, and walked in to take a look. An odd place with big swish cars outside, an odd collection of staff at the gate and giggling coming from the odd little private dining huts.... We think we had stumbled into a General's knocking shop, so made our excuse and left, the staff looked mightily relieved...
Finally, after negotiating dusty, dark lanes we found Too Too's, another of Lonely Planet's hot picks, it looked rather like a large white tiled public lavatory. Much to Gill and David's relief, as it was so late - 8pm - there were only two dishes left, cat, no sorry, chicken curry, or chicken liver curry.... So yet again we make our excuses and leave. Third try was another Lonely Planet hot pick, the local veggie restaurant. That was down an even dustier lane, and looked even more like a rather dirty white tiled public lavatory. Yet more excuses and more leaving. Finally we were left with one choice, BBB's and here the restaurant looked ok, but let's not talk about their lavatories.... But free wifi is always an attraction here as it's so hard to come by. Mediocre food, bad wine and full of Westerner's. And overstaffed, there was always someone loitering near the table, staffed by watchers and listeners we thought....
After our day in Pyin Oo Lwin, of which more later, our second day in Mandalay started the same way as the first at the Hotel by the Red Canal to book and pay for flights with credit card. And again it took ages. Lots of paper and lots of faxes, we think the transactions were faxed to Singapore for processing. Our trusty Mazda who was meeting us there waited patiently. Whilst we were waiting, we got introduced to an ancient, one red toothed trishaw driver who was the person who had taught Nwe Oo, our driver to speak English. He taught him over the years as they waited about for fares when they both drove trishaws. A really chirpy old man who berated our driver for becoming lazy, "he used to be a trishaw driver", he said, "but now he is a lazy boy and drives the 43 year old car". We nearly told him that calling the little wreck a car was pushing it a bit, but decided to be charitable and not mention that. But it says something about the spirit and literacy of this country, two guys, struggling to make a living essentially as taxi drivers, learning English as they wait for fares, we can't imagine that happening in the so called first world. And what a waste of talent.
Our plan for the day was to visit U Bein, a teak bridge just outside the city. This is the longest teak bridge in the world and crosses a beautiful lake. But we had obviously worn out our trusty Mazda a little on Day One as the engine kept cutting out every time it stopped. It didn't sound too healthy either.... But it restarted fine until we were halfway across the busiest cross roads in the city. As Nwe Oo desperately tied to get it going, the traffic was grid locking all around... But at least we cheered up the local population as two tall strong men (that's Ant and David in case you were wondering) leapt out of the back and started pushing it to the side of the road under the direction of a stern looking traffic cop, but even he ended up smiling....



It finally spluttered into life after a bit more pushing and we kangarooed all the way to U Bein. While we were visiting the bridge, Nwe Oo would go off to find the right wire to fix it, but he need an advance on his day's money to get it - even though we think we have temporary money worries as we may not have dollars, he needed an advance of a fiver, he must have had nothing at all...



The start of the U Bein bridge is a mix of motley restaurants serving what looked like huge fried prawns, well at least that's what they looked like when the flies cleared enough to see.... The bridge itself, made of teak, rickety in parts, has been there for two hundred years and is a lovely walk 1300 yards across. It spans the lake, but parts have been reclaimed so you look down from the bridge on scenes as if from history as oxen pull the ploughs making furrows for rice, and men fish in the lake and barefoot children wander around.



The children with thanaka paste made from wood bark on their faces to ward off the sun, a sight we were now used to here. But it's a bit of an old and a new scene, whilst all that is going on below, on the bridge are a few Western tourists, not many as the peak time is the 4am walk across the bridge by the local monks with their alms bowls. We decided against that, not because of the early start it would require of course, or the fact that our dollar situation meant we couldn't afford to give alms to anyone, more that we wanted to see it at its least crowded.... And local youngsters meeting up and flirting, a few of the girls having made the mistake of wearing heeled shoes.... There is the odd little stall selling drinks and a few fortune tellers.


Reaching the other side is a bit of a repeat of the start, with another temple, but I think we have all reached the "whatever" point with temples and pagoda's, think it's called temple fatigue... We decide to make the return trip by rowing boat - that is with someone else doing the rowing of course. Gill was looking for the life jackets when she realised they were probably surplus to requirements; we see the men fishing are standing in the lake and the water only just covers their knees....



Back on dry land, we get the news that Little Mazda is kaput, if the engine stops again it will not restart, so we drive back into the City and are handed on to another Little Mazda, white this time, and looking in worse nick than the one we had just left. But we had sights to see, so said a sad goodbye to our two friends, the driver and the little truck. It will forever have a place in our hearts..


We spend the afternoon in the Royal Palace. Well, not the Royal Palace exactly, that was destroyed in various fights, wars and skirmishes with the Brits and the Japanese, this was a "faithful" replica. We are not convinced however, that King Thibaw and his many wives lived in a palace with corrugated iron roofs and peeling gold paint, all covered in a betel nut spit coloured red paint which we thought they must have got in a job lot from China... The Brits kicked the Burmese Royals out in 1885 and turned it into a Governor's residence, Club etc. All the teak buildings survived until 1945 when it was burned down in skirmishes between the Japanese and the Brits. It may have been more friendly as an occupying force to take a casserole or an apple pie rather than destroy a National Treasure, but at least the junta have made the effort to recreate it, albeit with rumoured forced labour. It's set right in the middle of the six square kilometre walled and moated complex dominating the middle of the city. But it only takes up a small part, the rest of the square is occupied by the military for training. You can only enter by one gate, which is festooned with a huge pink sign saying "Tatmadaw (the military) and the people co operate and crush all those harming the nation". We take note and promise to behave.... Dire warnings are given about staying on the road leading to the Palace, and not straying an inch into the military zone and not using your camera on the way. Soldiers who look like children stand guard with their AK47's, but whilst they look scary are charming and smile broadly as we fling about yet more "mingalaba's". But even David, who has little camera control, decided against challenging the rules and taking a sneaky picture as we walked past the military groups doing their training...
The walk to the palace was even more fascinating than the palace itself, a big parade ground with stands, probably the old cricket ground when the British had their Club in here during the Imperial era, and dusty dark wooden stilt houses, probably housing the local support staff. But the road was also lined with gardens each growing a great selection of tasty looking veg. We felt very James Bond as we tried to unobtrusively peer over the fences to catch glimpse of what was really going on.
After that we take the Lonely Planet suggested, slightly off piste, walking tour and wend our way through dusty shady lanes full of old, walled Imperial era houses, now really run down and sprouting weeds from the bricks. One day these will be lovingly restored and turned into amazing boutique hotels, but for now they are monks' residences with their deep red robes drying in the evening breeze. Other streets around yet another temple are straight out of India; dark, dank houses, dirt and rubbish everywhere. We then find our way to yet another amazing pagoda, but the thought of taking our shoes off again proved a pagoda too far.



Just round the corner we find the local Tony & Guy and Ant decides on a haircut - the full monk cut. Basically a chair in a dusty road and a man with a cut throat razor. As the scalping progressed, the crowd grew larger and yet again we provide entertainment for the populace. And when Ant paid with a large tip, the whole crowd all protested and said it was too much - how nice to find such an attitude, we just hope that as their tourist trade progresses they don't lose their wonderful, genuinely friendly ways.



We then walk on towards the river hoping for a sunset bar for cocktails. Through the colourful flower market with chrysanthemums fighting for space with roses, lily's and tropical flowers we couldn't identify, to the river. It was here that we abruptly realise there is no way it will be peppered with anything approaching civilisation, let alone a cocktail place. The river side is like something from Armageddon.



Dark wooden boats being filled and emptied by armies of men like ants with sacks of rice, bamboo poles and other cargoes and tiny stilted bamboo huts precariously clinging on to the sloping river beach. Filth and rubbish everywhere, no running water, no electricity, barefoot kids, dogs and cats everywhere. It was the worst poverty we have seen, yet still people were smiling broadly back as we flung out a few, slightly more cautious "mingalaba's". It was hard to understand how they could be so nice in such circumstances, and whilst we don't flash our belongings, it's obvious we have so much more than them. We all agreed we wouldn't be so generous had the roles been reversed.
But just as we had given up on the sunset drink, a miracle occurred! All those temple visits paid off. Through the darkening sunset and pollution we spot a big white building and joy of joys, a roof terrace! All compassion forgotten we ran as fast as we could, got in the lift and straight up to the rooftop bar. We enjoyed drinks we paid for and many more we didn't pay for as yet again, we came across a free cocktail hour, we can only assume they thought we were guests and we didn't disabuse them of the idea.... We were obviously dressed more like tour group participants than soapdodgers that day.... And we got great views of an Irrawaddy sunset into the bargain. Happy days!


We seem to have such full days here that we had only time to drop off the why why we had bought in a supermarket (look, Gill was desperate....) to take to Lake Inle, then off out again to finally make it to Too Too's. It still looked like a big white tiled public toilet, but we were a bit earlier than before and there was more food on offer. We slightly misunderstood the ordering system and ended up with a table full of food, it looked great and would have been great if only it had been hot..... Quite a disappointment after all the efforts to get there. Taxi's from Too Too's were a rarity so Ant gets a motorcycle one and David and Gill take the plunge and sit back to back, arms linked, desperately hanging on to a tiny trishaw, not made for Western rears.... If we thought it was an effort just to stay on, think how the poor guy cycling felt... Good job we didn't eat too much at Too Too's.
This is such an early city and there is nowhere to go for a post dinner drink, unless we went to the posh Sedona Hotel, which is not really us, so we scoot round to A Little Bit Of Mandalay for three lime soda's, spiced as usual with secret water. They looked askance when they thought we wanted food at 8.30 pm, and relieved when all we wanted was a drink. We were extra careful with the secret water here though, as the menu said if you bring your own wine, there would be a "cockage charge" and we really didn't want one of them.... Then our last walk round the roads of Mandalay back to the hotel ready for an early start tomorrow. The cool evenings here see kids and adults wrapped up in puffa jackets, beanie hats and gloves, even Gill thought that slightly excessive!
So, we loved Mandalay, on the surface lacking charm and overly polluted, but under the surface are hidden gems, lovely people and interesting places to see. "Mingalaba without the palaver".


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Nellie The Elephant, Bagan to Mandalay (13 January 2012)

Today, we spent the day drifting northwards on the lazy Irrawaddy. The 5 am departure from the hotel meant a quiet and subdued taxi ride as we passed the ghost like pagodas en route to the ferry landing at Nyuang U. We did smile however to note that some of the temples are lit up like the Blackpool illuminations or the Vegas strip!



We rolled our bags down the steep sandy banks to our ferry whilst it was still dark. It's a little rusty, a tad tired but really welcoming little metal boat, made in China in the distant past and named Sun Far. We set sail just before 6 am for our twelve hour schlep. Dawn came quickly over the broad wide flood plain. The Irrawaddy was much wider than we expected, probably about half a mile of slowly moving brown waters. The sunrise reflected bright red on the waters surface and we were grinning like children. Not for the first time on this trip. After the sun had risen Ant and David continued their night's sleep on the rickety seats in the "saloon".






We shared the boat with maybe 15 other people, (officially it could take over 100), all Westerners, at $30 US, it was probably too expensive for the locals or maybe they aren't allowed, who knows? We spent the day snoozing, reading, blogging, lounging and watching the world go by.




There wasn't so much village life on the sandy river banks, as the river was low and obviously floods during the wet season Some of the sand banks were being used for fast growing crops, others had temporary fishing settlements, with waving children. We loved watching the small fishing boats, the tugboats hauling teak, bamboo or fuel, and we pulled into the bank occasionally to let a crew member off or to collect a new one.
We had lunch that was produced from the bowels of the boat, hoping it doesn't reappear too urgently from ours.



The afternoon passed slowly and lazily, finally after 12 hours, we sailed beneath a couple of broad span bridges, saw some temples on the hills and so knew that we were arriving in Mandalay as the sun was setting, a magnificent red ball of fire. The journey had taken from dawn to dusk. We were really excited and had loved the smooth trip. There was the usual scrum at the jetty to get a taxi that wasn't charging a fortune, we agreed on 6000 kyats, climbed into the back of a pick up truck and headed through the dark, smoky streets of Mandalay to our accommodation, the small Mandalay View inn, which is an unusual name for a hotel where most of the rooms don't have windows...

So why Nellie the Elephant? Well....

Nellie the elephant packed her trunk and said goodbye to the circus,
Off she went with a trumpety trump
Trump trump trump,
The head of the herd was calling, far far away,
They met one night in the pale moonlight, on the road to Mandalay.

Wonga Worries, US dollars in Burma (January 6 - 24 2012)

Before we came here, we knew that we needed pristine dollars to exchange into Myanmar Kyats, as the currency is not available for exchange outside of the country. But until we got here, we didn't realise quite how pristine that should be. We also knew that there would be no access to money from ATM's or banks and that virtually nowhere took credit cards. So we thought we had really over estimated what we would need and would have plenty spare for the niceties of life and take a thousand or so dollars each back home. How wrong we were. A couple of days into Yangon, we realise that we may have miscalculated. Coffees and why why and drinks in Yangon's trendy cafes had used up more than our calculated going rate and we suddenly realised that if we were to have somewhere to stay and something to eat each day, we had to stick to a budget, a new experience for all. And now we had to plan ahead to know if we could afford a flight or whether it would have to be an eighteen hour bus ride. How strange to have no access to money other than flying back to Bangkok and back in again, but actually, we couldn't do that either as our visas are single entry only... So sticking to a budget seemed the only option... Need I say it promised to be a steep learning curve!
It has been quite a laugh checking out restaurant menus and deciding to eat back at the Kumadura hotel in Bagan as the food (as well as being really good...) is half the price of the local posh Thai. And so funny seeing Ant making sure he hid any leftover bottles of free hotel water so they would be replaced, and of course, making use of the old secret water to spice up a cheap lime soda.... Finally, we felt like real backpackers!
Part of the problem is that prices are much higher than we expected, but reading the small print in the Lonely Planet tells us that inflation is running at 25% a year, pity we didn't see that earlier.... And secondly, some of our dollars that we thought were fine were not, they wouldn't take them. They have to be virtually brand new, so fold them in you wallet and you're stuffed. It brings a new meaning to money laundering as we would have washed and ironed them if we could! David even braved hours in the painfully slow internet office here, typing in one letter at a time to see if his bank could fly or even parachute in some new dollars to us but the computer (or perhaps the sanctions....), says no! But here in Bagan, we have found a couple of dodgy money changers who will take slighly less than perfect dollars, for a lower rate of course.... And we also discover they take other currencies, so have been scraping our wallets for every stray Pound, Euro and Thai Baht note we can find... strangely, it's only dollars that have to be in perfect condition, other currencies can have been crumpled in your purse or pocket for months. Every little bit helps as they say in the Tesco's ad... The excitement of Gill finding a few thousand Indonesian Rupiahs and a few hundred Indian Rupees lurking in her purse soon waned as we discovered they were worth next to nothing.... But it's not just us. Every Westerner you talk to has the same issue, they are running out of posh new dollars and so running out of money. Such a pity as it means that even though you want to spend and help out the local economy by buying local goods, i.e. non government enterprises, (and there were some fine examples of this, especially beautiful laquerware), you can't, an example of sanctions crippling those people who really need your help most.
We have also luckily found a hotel in Mandalay that takes credit cards, for a huge surcharge of course, but it frees up a few more cash dollars for other things. So now the rule is it doesn't matter what the hotel costs, as long as we can pay by heavily surcharged credit card, we will book it - not quite the lesson on budgeting that we should be learning....
But having said that, booking ahead and finding out if indeed they do take cards is a challenge in itself. After the surprisingly available but slow and inefficient wifi we found in lots of places in Yangon, we have now come to the end of the information superhighway. Here in Bagan, the speed on the hotel internet (no wifi here....) is slower than that of the old dial up so your free 30 minutes each day is eaten up by getting connected to hotmail and then speed reading anything that looks important and no chance of actually replying...
Our cash situation developed into a textbook example of the way the British economy is working (or not...) at the moment. We were suffering an extreme liquidity crisis. We had been downgraded to junk status and were desperate for a bit of quantitative easing. Thankfully, Gill, representing the SMF (Soapdodgers' Monetary Fund) in Myanmar came forth with a debt restructuring package. Quantitative easing was made available via the sterling and Thai bahts that she found in her bag. These were quickly converted into kyats. New lines of credit were also made available courtesy of the Hotel by the Red Canal, albeit at a punitive rate of a 27% markup. Nevertheless, market confidence was restored, we were solvent again, and reverted to our profligate ways as if the crisis had never happened. Perhaps the Eurozone could learn a lesson from us......



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Peace and Ponies at the incredible Temples of Bagan (10 - 12 January (2012)

Despite having to pay with our precious cash, the Kumudara Hotel, in New Bagan nearest to the temples, was a great choice, set in fields close to the temples, with a good restaurant, temple facing swimming pool and upmarket rooms, including breakfast for $39US. Best of all, they served the best gin slings ever for £1.20. Our rooms gave on to the temples in the distance which appeared to be randomly dotted for miles around. As we scanned the horizon more temples appeared. It was hard to keep count of them. We couldn't wait to see them in daylight.


The four thousand temples here are spread out over sixteen square miles and the best way to get around Bagan is by horse and cart. The other option is hiring a bike, but it is a bit hot.... We negotiated with a driver to take us around the temples for the next two days. We liked the look of his pony - a healthy and well cared for specimen compared to some of the mangy nags we had seen around town. We had no real plan on how to see the temples, but preferred to visit them almost at random. Thankfully none of us are the type of people who need to tick sights off a list. Perhaps the most fun of the day was getting on and off the trap. Ant bagged the front seat and asked our driver to wait while "mother" and " younger brother" clambered aboard. We really hoped that Neddy would get an extra nose bag for hauling us around all day. He certainly deserved it. It was an unusual looking "taxi rank" outside the hotel each morning!


The Bagan temples were originally built in the eleventh and twelfth centuries, in a sprawling complex dotted around the countryside on the eastern bank of the Irrawaddy river. They are built in a variety of styles and Bagan is a work in progress as temples are still being built today. Bagan has been denied UNESCO World Heritage status, as new temples are going up, and existing ones are undergoing constant renovation. This makes for some interesting juxtapositions of ancient temples with fairy lights and tiling that would not shame a 1970's bathroom. Perhaps UNESCO have a point, but we loved it and the temples seem to be a living reflection of the Buddhist faith and not just a showpiece for tourists.



After seeing a handful of temples, we began to experience temple blindness. Which temple did we go to today? Have we already been to that one over there? Most of all we enjoyed the atmosphere of this unique place, the lolloping rhythm of the pony trap, and the sedate, clippety clop tempo that was the soundtrack of our stay in Bagan. We each took turns at driving....



The highlight was the visit to the "sunset pagoda", Shwesandaw, to watch the sun setting. It' s possible to climb up many of the temples, though the precarious inclines and the Burmese interpretation of health and safety make this a climb not for the faint-hearted. If you can put your fears to one side then the reward is great: a view of the surrounding plain, studded with temples all of different design and scale, looking westwards to the Irrawaddy river, the misty mountains beyond, and the setting sun. As the sun set the temples looked increasingly ethereal as the light changed, and mist drifted across the plain in the far distance. A moment of perfect peace and contemplation.


As temple fatigue kicked in there was also time for some R&R by the hotel pool, which in our case meant falling asleep with books on our laps. Evenings were spent in the hotel restaurant, eating hearty curries and drinking innumerable gin slings that went down very well, so much so that the hotel ran out of local gin. On both nights the barman was very grateful to hear that we were going to bed as we were the last to turn in at the very late Burmese hour of 9.30pm. The gin slings really were that good.



We were sad to leave Bagan. It is a unique place, not overrun by tourists yet. Despite the 5am alarm call to make the boat departure at 6, we were excited to be heading for Mandalay, up the Irrawaddy, both names so evocative and filled with promise. We would not be following in Nellie's footsteps today, as she took the road, and not the boat.


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