The (Monkey) King and I on Mount Popa

Due to a brief illness and unreliable internet access I’ve been unable to update this blog for the past few days, but now those problems are behind me so it’s time to get cracking again.

For my last day in Bagan, I made the two hour trip to the famed and revered Mout Popa. Mount Popa is a bit of a misnomer, because when most people, Burmese and foreigners alike, refer to the mountain, nine times out of ten they are referring to this:

  

Yea. That is the Popa Taungkalat monastery. Unbelievably picturesque and dramatic when viewed from any angle, the monastery sits atop an outcropping of the actual mountain. Anyone can go to the top, but there is no elevator and the view is not for the faint of heart. Although I was beginning to feel quite sick by the time we arrived at the base of the monastery, there was no way I was going to let that impede my experience having come so far to see it. Ultimately, the climb was tiring but not so horrible, and I reached the top without incident, save for some encounters with the monkeys.

 Before I go on, I’ll speak a bit on the monkeys. They are Macaques, and there are a lot of them. Making the climb up the monastery steps, you really get the feeling that you are inside an old Travel Channel documentary (before it turned into Food Network 2). We arrived early in the morning, before most of the European tourists had had their tea or croissants or whatever they do, so it was just us and the locals for the most part. The monkeys are everywhere, jumping around, begging for food, and in some cases grabbing onto you or trying to steal your belongings. It’s really an eclectic environment, but also an authentic experience to be sure.

Once I reached the top, I took a moment just to gather myself and enjoy the view before exploring the summit. There really isn’t much to see at the top, just the usual Buddha statues and collection boxes; the best part is the gorgeous scenery visible in all directions. The monkeys become fewer and farther between the higher you get, and at the top I found only one. He was large and looked old, and I theorized that perhaps only one monkey out of the lot of them gets the honor to sit at the top, and this particular monkey was the king. I had a chat with him about how I had figured this out, and then we posed for a picture together.

Back in Bagan, there were still a couple of things I had yet to examine. I took a closer look at the still-intact portions of the old city walls, and also toured the reconstructed version of the palace. Night was beginning to fall, so Anna and I took a pleasant ride in one of the many horse carts that weave through the monument zone, followed by a self-guided tour of some of the large pagodas that are lit up at night. It was an excellent way to spend my final night in Bagan, and satisfied that I had made the most of my stay I began looking forward to my trip to Mandalay the  next day.

Bagan!

Looking out over the Old City

I know I said in my last post that I would be visiting Naypyidaw, but due to some changes in our schedule we only spent the night in the capital city and left early Saturday morning for Bagan. I was fine with this as I will have time toward the tail end of my trip to go back and explore Naypyidaw, and more time in Bagan is nothing to complain about.

To sum it up, Bagan is one of the big reasons I decided to go through with this trip in the first place. A sprawling valley filled with over 2400 Buddhist pagodas, stupas, and other religious monuments mostly from the 10^th-13^th centuries, Bagan was once the capital of an ancient kingdom called Pagan, first to unify the peoples that more or less constitute modern Myanmar. Today, one can wonder through the fields exploring for days on end- big pagodas, small pagodas, brick, sandstone, white, gold, etc., etc. For someone like me Bagan is an absolute fairytale land with no equal. It is by far the greatest sight I have every laid eyes on.

We started off Saturday afternoon in New Bagan touring a lacquerware shop. Burmese lacquerware is famed the world over for the impeccable craftsmanship and attention to detail with which it is made, and after seeing the process for myself I can understand why. Most pieces were out of my price range but I picked up a few small boxes for some friends. From the shop it was on to the pagodas, starting off with a medium sized one containing much of the original mural work on its interior walls. The parts which did not survive had been chiseled off by a some German guy in the 1890s who had been kind enough to leave his signature behind on the wall just to make sure everyone would be clear on who took them.

In the opposite direction

Eventually after examining a few more specific Pagodas up close, we were taken by our guide to one with exterior stairs leading about 5 stories up, affording amazing view of the surrounding countryside. The thing that one must understand about Bagan, what makes it so amazing, is that the scenery of the place is already breathtaking without the pagodas. On both sides you have mountain ridges jutting up into the sky with sweeping plain in the foreground and the immense Irrawaddy River winding along beside. Whenst you add the grandeur of the monuments, the sight is just indescribable. There are literally more pagodas than you could possibly count. I had trouble framing photographs because there was always another wonder lurking right outside the frame that I wanted to include. You try and get it all in to capture the magnitude of the moment and there’s just no way. I could stand atop the highest peak taking photos until the cows come home (of which there are many in Bagan) and it still wouldn’t come close to actually being here. But I tried.

reflecting pool

a monk

We climbed to the top of this one

This morning, the wonders of Bagan were again the focus. This time without a guide initially, we went biking in the opposite direction from yesterday and made a circle around the far side of the monument zone. From there we simply went wondering and exploring amidst the ruins, eventually coming upon on of the larger and more weather-beaten stupas, which we were able to scale via an internal staircase. I doubt many will get this reference, but wandering around in Bagan is rather like the PlayStation 2 game Shadow of the Colossus. Ruins smattered haphazardly about, dramatic vistas in every directing with peaks looming off in the distance, capped by barely visible monuments of unknown origin. You can see the weather from miles off- clouds moving in and fading away, far off storms viewed like a naval battle miles out as seen from shore. The drama increased when we made our way to a recently built viewing tower. The immensity of the valley never ceases to amaze, and from even higher up the scene was even more impressive.

After lunch we again met with our guide, and were shown a rather interesting pagoda that was dug into the side of a cliff, apparently built for a king in need of a hiding place, and quite unique in Bagan. We went to what I would best term a palm farm, where the process by which the various properties of the palm tree are harvested and put to use, and then to a street fair. The day’s travels were concluded with a cruise along the Irrawaddy to view the sunset. The scenery from the river was nothing short of majestic, and I couldn’t help but wonder what the British must have though when setting eyes on all of those stone peaks emerging out of the brush. Probably something along the lines of ‘bloody hell we have hit the jackpot’. At any rate, a dip in the pool and some gin to close out the day and that’s what the past two days have looked like. I knew Bagan would be amazing, but seriously… no words…  

Journey to the North

This is just a quick update to explain what I'll be doing for the next five or so days. In about half an hour I'll be leaving to go to the Burmese capital of Naypyidaw, followed by old city of Bagan, Mandalay, and Inle Lake, all destinations that I will elaborate upon later. I'm not expecting great internet anywhere I go, so posts will probably be infrequent until I return. At any rate, here is a bit of information on Naypyidaw...

Named as the new capital city of Myanmar in 2005, Naypyidaw was more or less built from scratch in preparation for events that had yet to happen and people that had yet to arrive. The reason for the move from Yangon, like many other things in this country, is shrouded in a bit of mystery. Officially, the capital was moved due to the increasing congestion of Yangon. Naypyidaw is indeed in a far better location for a national capital due to its position near the center of the country. Rumor, however, was that the ruling military leaders foresaw a foreign invasion (possibly predicted by an astrologer), and sought to relocate the government to a more advantageous position than Yangon. At any rate, from what I understand the new capital is mostly complete, and here to stay.

What I am most interested in is to see how alive the city has become. Most reports from the capital by foreign journalist paint it as a ghost town, but many of those are not at all up to date, and it is my understanding that the city now boasts almost 1 million people and is one of the fastest growing in Asia. I've got to leave now, but let me make it perfectly clear that I am very excited to see Naypyidaw. It is one of the most obscure capital cities in the world, and for someone who obsesses over these types of things, this opportunity is priceless.

Graves, tombs, and an enormous Buddhist disco ball.

Disco Inferno

I awoke yesterday to a light rain, which slowly dissipated before we left the house to go visit the Sean Yaun Kyi Pagoda (which means diamond gleam). This pagoda, not especially famous or rich in history, was something I happened to spy off the side of the road a few days ago. It fascinated me because the entire exterior was made up of tiny mirrors instead of the typical gold, making for a somewhat spectacular effect. I have no real knowledge of the pagoda or insights into its significance, etc., I just though it looked cool so I made a stop. There was also a friendly cat prowling the grounds, which Anna and I took a moment to play with.

Pagoda Cat

The tomb

On the way to this disco ball pagoda I spotted another thing that sparked my interest and warranted a stop- an assortment of tombs on the side of the road leading from the great Shwedagon. There were four in total: one belonged to Saya Thakin Ko Taw Mhaing, a comrade of General Aung San, another to Khin Kyi, wife of Aung San and mother of Aung San Suu Kyi, a third to U Thant, former U.N. Secretary General, and the fourth, which made the stop wholly worth it for me, was the tomb of Supayalat, the last queen of Burma. I've always taken an interest in the end of monarchies and the inevitable claims and pretenders to the throne that follow, and so to stumble upon such a tomb was great luck. Supayalat seems to have been quite a force of personality, apparently butting in during her older sister's wedding ceremony in order to become queen in her place, and subsequently forcing monogamy on the king- completely unheard of in Burmese history. After the Third Anglo-Burmese War, she and her husband were forced to abdicate from their thrones in Mandalay to exile in India, where the kind died in 1916. She was allowed to return to Rangoon (as it was called then) in 1919, died in 1925, and was entombed where I'm standing in that picture, against her wishes to return to Mandalay. I wish they would take better care of the garden around the tombs, it's in quite a state of disrepair.

War Cemetery

The final stop for the day was to the War Cemetery, a slight drive to the north of Yangon. I didn't do my research before the trip, and so was surprised to find that the cemetery was the final resting place of mostly Englishmen, with more than a few Indians, mostly Sikhs, as well. Maintained by the Commonwealth War Grave Commission, as a placard at the entrance to the complex clearly states, the cemetery was probably the most beautiful, peaceful place that I've encountered in Burma and is meticulously maintained. Wikipedia spits out the statistics better than I can: "The cemetery contains the graves of 6,374 soldiers who died in the Second World War, the graves of 52 soldiers who died in Burma during the First World War, and memorial pillars (The Rangoon Memorial) with the names of over 27,000 Commonwealth soldiers who died in Burma during the Second World War but who have no known grave. There are 867 graves that contain the remains of unidentified soldiers." As I said, the place was genuinely beautiful, and for most of my stay we were alone to enjoy its calming effects. A really fitting resting place on foreign soil if there is one. 

After the War Cemetery we were to meet Anna's friends for dinner, but had time in between to take a ride on her driver's motorbike, which he kept at his home nearby. I'd never ridden before so it took me a few passes to get the gear shifting to a serviceable proficiency, after which Anna trustingly hopped on the back for a pleasant ride through the countryside, the locals a little taken aback by the sight. 

Posing

   

Over the river and through the rice fields

I've had this post ready to go for a little while but due to some problems with the internet I was delayed in publishing it. Anyway...

Saturday I was lucky enough to join a group of employees from Anna’s mother’s tour company on a day trip across the Yangon River to a village called Dala. It was a great chance to see a less urban environment and another facet of daily life around Yangon. Here is a map:

We woke early to join the tour group at the office, and took a bus to downtown Yangon and the ferry landing. Due to the early hour a thin mist hung about, giving the river a rather mysterious air both upstream and down. From the midway point the high-rises of Yangon became partially obscured by the fog, exuding a kind of pleasant melancholy I find difficult to describe. Large freighters drifted about with impunity as small water taxis zoomed by below. On the ferry we met a young boy of about 13 named Peter whose job it was, along with many others, to sell chewing gum, mints, cigarettes, etc. to passengers on the ferry. Peter was quite likeable and impressed me immensely with his knowledge of several languages. He spoke to us in English and immediately jumped to the conclusion that Anna and I were married (I wasted no time correcting him), proceeding to ask me questions about where I was from, what I did, how long I was staying, and for what purpose. From there we had a brief conversation in French, and he informed me that he also spoke some Italian and Spanish. I bought three packs of gum and some mints.

Arriving on the opposite shore, we disembarked into pure chaos as mobs of people jockeyed to enter and exit the ferry while many others sold various goods and offered taxi service. This side of the river was entirely different from where we had just come from. It had a much more backwoods feel to it and as we boarded trishaws and were peddled farther from the river this feeling would only grow. The trishaws (bicycles with two back-to-back passenger seats on the side) were a surprisingly pleasant mode of transportation and allowed for much more involved observation of the surrounding environment. The roads were narrow with houses and businesses (most little more than shacks) clustered on each side. Much of the land on either side of the road was swampy, with many of the houses on stilts, makeshift walkways leading up from the road. One thing that struck me about this place was that, despite the absolute filth of much of the roadside- mud was everywhere and in places this was accompanied by a healthy layer of trash and litter- all of the people walking about, attending to their business, were as clean and well groomed as one could imagine. Clothing was generally spotless and neat, hair well kept, and sandaled feet surprisingly dirt-free. Frankly, how they do it is a complete mystery to me.

Outside the monastery

First stop on the tour was a monastery and adjoining school, no rest for the young students on a Saturday. Inside the monastery we were given a brief overview of how it runs and the daily life of the monks who call it home. We exited, I snapped a picture of a cow relaxing next to an intricately ornamented shrine, and we were off once more. The roads went from well-paved to barely so as we were peddled deeper into the countryside. It was a nice day to be certain, and eventually on both sides of the road there stretched rice fields with waist deep water as far as the eye could see. Eventually we reached out destination, a small village where lunch had been prepared for us. I have no idea the names of what I ate, but it involved chicken, beef, rice, vegetables, and soup, and was really delicious. I was nervous about how I would like Burmese food- it’s not as if I can just grab a burger if I find the food disagreeable. To my relief, however, most of what I’ve eaten so far has been really tasty. I don’t really examine it or smell it or think about it, my attitude is more or less that I’m going to eat it, whatever it may be, so I just dive in head first.

After finishing our meal Anna and I took a brief stroll around the village to get some pictures. We spoke briefly with a young boy playing around with a makeshift fishing pole, then headed back to rejoin the rest of the group. The return journey was pleasant with a refreshing sprinkling of rain, and in about a half hour we were back to the ferry. The fog had dissipated by now and Yangon’s waterfront, dotted with warehouses and docked vessels, was in clear view, making for some nice pictures. After crossing we headed home and I took a much-needed nap. 

Welcome to the Golden City

Yangon is the former capital of Burma and a city of about 4 million people. Called the ‘Golden City’ because of its many gleaming golden pagodas and other Buddhist shrines, it was supposedly once considered the most beautiful city in Southeast Asia due in large part to the plethora of grand colonial-era buildings that line the streets of downtown.

Nowadays it’s a different story. Most colonial-era structures, while still intact, are in bad disrepair. The city is instead dominated by 8-story apartment buildings to house a population that has ballooned over the course of the last century. One gets the impression when walking in the city that there is a constant battle being waged between the buildings and Burma’s rain and humidity, and in most parts of Yangon that I’ve seen it appears nature is winning. Moss and small plants cling onto every surface imaginable, and even newer buildings quickly fall victim to the same effects. Long story short there is a general feeling of corrosion and decay- the city is a part of the land and climate in a way unique in my experience. That is not to say that Yangon is unpleasant... on the contrary I'm finding it rather enjoyable. Once you get used to the atmosphere it begins to grow on you. Its dirty and its loud but its also alive in a really tangible way.

I made these observations Friday while walking downtown to visit the Sule Pagoda (pronounced sooh-lay), rumored to be the Yangon’s oldest. It is located in the center of the city and all mile markers radiate from it. Octagonal in shape, the origins of the pagoda are steeped in legend so I couldn’t find a definitive answer to when it was built or why. It’s quite an impressive structure and is in close proximity to the excellently preserved colonial-era city hall building, the somewhat decaying high court, and the independence monument, another focal point of downtown that houses an immense obelisk commemorating Burma’s independence from the British.

I walked into the pagoda complex through a highly ornamented entryway, of which there are four, and up onto what I can best describe as a stone patio that encircles the pagoda and is itself encircled by rooms housing various shrines. Everything is gold more or less, creating a stunning visual effect that I found incredibly pleasing despite the gloomy weather. I’ll talk more about pagodas and their use in a later post.

After my stroll downtown we visited the Aung San museum house, where General Aung San lived and raised his family. Aung San is the father of modern Burma and was the leader of the independence movement that freed the country from British rule. He was tragically assassinated just months before Burmese independence was attained, in 1947, setting in motion a chain of events which has arguably led to many of the problems that plague the Burmese state today. His daughter, Aung San Suu Kyi, is an internationally known advocate for democracy and winner of the Nobel Peace Prize. The house was pleasant inside and out, and relatively modest for a figure as revered as Aung San. Much of the original furniture was on display, as well as many images and timelines pertaining to the general’s life and achievements.

That’s it for Friday, I’m gonna grab dinner and then write about Saturday to get all caught up.  

NYC to Yangon

This might be a long post as I try to cram the events of the past few days in so bear with me…

Instead of visiting the Empire State Building as I had suggested in my previous post, I opted instead for the much more cost-efficient activity of visiting Chinatown. My decision proved to be an excellent one, as one of my friends in the city took me to this dim sum place that was absolutely delicious. The restaurant looked unassuming from the exterior, but upon entering I immediately ascended an immense escalator into an equally spacious dining hall about two stories up. From there I was quickly bombarded with dining choices which I left up to my more savvy friends. I don’t eat ‘real’ Chinese food very often as I’m not a terribly adventurous eater when there are more traditional options available, but I was assured I’d enjoy it this time, which I did to the utmost.

After a satisfying meal I got a great deal on some teas in one of many similarly fashioned shops that dot the streets of Chinatown, and narrowly avoided dropping money on the expertly crafted knock-offs that are perpetually hawked to every passerby that looks even the slightest bit interested. I was sort of looking for a pair of Diesel sunglasses but I let it go. After leaving Chinatown I didn’t do much else notable in the city except make last minute preparations for my flight the next day. Though expensive, New York was definitely a cool way to spend my final days on American soil, and provided a nice contrast for what was to come.

On Tuesday by some miracle I was able muscle my unruly suitcases through the turnstiles of the subway, and in about an hour I made it to JFK to catch my flight. It was a good thing I got there about 5 hours in advance, because there were some complications with my Visa paperwork that needed to be sorted out, and given it was about 4am in Burma I didn’t actually find out if I would be allowed on the plane until half an hour before boarding. Luckily everything worked out, and in short order I was airborne.

As for my flights, there is really only one thing I’d like to express- Qatar Airways is the only way to fly. The staff was courteous and helpful, the meals were complimentary, frequent, and surprisingly good for airline food, and the entertainment was unmatched. Loads of movies, tv shows, music… they even had the Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra for Christ’s sake, it was great. Lucky coincidence I suppose that Qatar happened to be the cheapest option when I booked my flight months ago. I’d be more than happy to fly with them again. The layover in Qatar was brief and after that it was on to Yangon.

As we began our descent the Burmese countryside came into view, a patchwork of misshapen fields among crisscrossing irrigation canals, the occasional river providing a home for the immense amount of rainwater that falls on the country this time of year. Here and there were visible small towns and villages, little more than collections of corroded tin roofs from the sky, but many with a gleaming golden pagoda pushing out amongst the other nondescript structures. It was then that it really dawned on me that the months of waiting and hours of traveling were over, and I had finally arrived. It was beyond exciting.   

After landing I could gather that it was quite a gloomy day in Yangon- rainy, overcast, humid. The humidity really struck my when disembarking. It oozed like poison gas into the jetway and was barely vanquished by the air conditioning blasting from within the airport. After my passport was visa’ed and stamped I met Anna near baggage claim (bags had arrived a little worse for wear but generally ok) and we proceeded out to the car and to her house so that I could get settled in. The room I have is very nice and I couldn’t be more grateful to Anna and her family for housing me so. Sliding wooden and glass doors open onto a lovely balcony overlooking the lawn, the immense Hotel Yangon looming in the distance providing a rather romantic backdrop.

I didn’t do much the first day, however, we did go to this huge market in downtown Yangon to get some important supplies like new flip flops, some ‘Myanmar Beer’ for my sampling (so-long U.S. drinking laws), and a Burmese garment the name of which escapes me that looks rather like a long skirt, for when I visit the pagodas. I got to observe a good bit of Yangon during this excursion, and descriptions of a detailed nature will be forthcoming. Now though I believe the household will be waking up soon, so I’ll save my descriptions and thoughts of the city for another post.