En route to Hsipaw...

I had read and heard about Hsipaw as being a quite remote little town with access to some very interesting hill tribe trekking trips. Furthermore, Karen mentioned a very peculiar train ride to get there. So, hey, why not?!

My train departed from Mandalay at 4 in the morning. Quite early if you ask me, especially since Mandalay doesn't have much street lighting at all at night.

The 15 minute walk from hotel to train station was quite unique. Trying to find my way in the dark, staying away from the way to healthy stray dogs, and find people here and there to make an attempt at asking for direction.

The train itself seemed OK. Just like any train in that part of the world. Nothing fancy, nothing scary either.

Off course, the train management had to put all the foreigners in the same wagon. The 'upper class' wagon. The one with cushion and reclining seats rather than board plank seats. Sure...after all, 12 hours of train for $9, if that means VIP wagon, OK. :-)

We depart on time. Only 6 or so foreigners in the train. My neighbor happens to be French. One will quickly realize when traveling in Burma that tourists for the most part are either French or German.

An hour later, the train stops...and the stop lasts and lasts...and all we can hear is a sort of commotion a couple of wagons behind...so after a while, Mr curious that I am, I peak through the window and look. Hahahahahahaha! I get back in, get my camera and run out, a group of about 10 men were struggling to try and get an entire flock of goats inside the cargo wagon. Hilarious. Man vs nature, and nature was thus far winning by far. Lol so we got stuck for about an hour like that. At some point, a couple of goats managed to get free and ran through the train station. The men started screening and run all over the place to get them back. It was so comical.

That train ride, for reasons I still can seem to understand, was unbelievably bumpy. Literally, often our whole body would take off from our seats, then we would be pushed really hard right and left. It made me think of a small boat going through a severe storm in the middle of the ocean, but actually much bumpier and more swinging. I am sure Universal Studios would not be able to come up with such a shaky attraction.

Oh, for more strange reasons, even though the train runs everyday and both ways, it felt as if we were trail blazers. Branches would come through the windows, some broken, some slapping the seats. To the point that for a very long period we couldn't even extend our arms out or even a finger or else it would get chopped off. The result, when we finally arrived at destination, the entire floor of the train was a carpet of dried and cut grass, herbs, branches.

But for an even longer part, we were shaving a cliff side extremely close as well, but te entire cliff was covered in mint plants, wild ones I guess. So as the rain drizzled, the air was filled with a delicious scent of fresh mint. It was so surreal...

But after 12 hours, no matter the entertainment of the uniqueness of the ride, I was veeeeeeery glad to finally arrive at destination.

Once in Hsipaw, I quickly inquired about sights to see, and treks to sign up for. For me a 2 days 1 night track for the next morning. But when I asked at the front desk about monasteries (I find them so peaceful and beautiful in this country), I was told that there was a meditation time every evening to which I could go if I wanted to. A young German girl was eves dropping into the info so I asked her if she wanted to go together.

An hour or so later we met up and went on. Ha, Hsipaw has absolutely NO street lights at all whatsoever. Only have to rely on the moon, the stars, and the lights of the scooters or cars driving by. We had to walk for about 20 minutes through dirt paths and exit the village a bit. My headlamp was more than handy in such context. Anyhow, we reach the monastery, actually the pagoda where people were praying and where a monk was chanting prayers. Kind of like a daily mass celebration for catholics. People inside see us and invite us to come in and seat in. Wow! Sure! OK! Would never even have ever thought of doing this. So we, her with the girls in the back and me with the men right up front (like in a mosque), sat there for half an hour until they finished the celebration.

Then, we had hoped that we would be able to chat with the monk and learn a bit about meditation. Ha! No no no. Everyone took a quick mini break, and jumped right into a one hour of meditation. One of the ladies (Mrs Boat) being such a marvelous welcoming and hospitable local asked the monk to put a tape in English to guide us into the beginning of the meditation. So after searching through a bunch of old junk, the monk finds such tape and plays it. We were so privileged in so ,any ways at that moment. It was magical, and so unexpected. So for one hour, we both struggled to try and ignore the storming pain of staying in one position, while trying to make sense of it all and fall into a meditative state on our own and without actual real guidance. Ufff...didn't work for me this time. I think I actually almost fell asleep.

When the whole thing was over, we got a huge smile from the monk and from everyone else there. And Mrs Boat, who we finally meet, asks us to walk with her to her shop/restaurant. OK, what the heck!
So we walk side by side with her and all the other people from the pagoda, in the dark, and through the ruined stupas of the site. The older women, including our host, heil a pickup, and we all jump in for 10 minute till get get to her house/restaurant. She quickly brings out several dishes, and tea for us two and begs us to eat. We met her whole family. Her English is extremely good.

After a long chat, and lots of food, we finally say goodnight and leave. Such a magical night.

Going with the flow, and opening the door to any new opportunity is so rewarding if you are in the right state of mind. Thank you so much Mrs Boat!!!

Next day, a German couple (both mid 30's, she is a nurse and he is a psychological doctor for people with mental illnesses), the absolute slowest walkers i have ever seen in my life, our guide, and myself depart our hotel, Mr Charles at about 9am. Oh yeah, a fun fact about Hsipaw is that every site is either Mr or Mrs something. Mr Food, Mr Shake, Mrs Boat, Mr Drink...

The trekking was just OK. Honestly, after Toraja and Bromo, Ijen, Rinjani, hard to to better...

Mostly corn fields, sesame fields, rice fields...

Though when exiting the village we visited a noodle artisan factory, it was soooo interesting. The whole noodle making process has absolutely nothing with what I would have imagined.

So, when we finally make it to the hill town of Pankam, not a Shan tribe, but a Palaung tribe, originating from the Khmer's in Cambodia, it was a most gorgeous scene. Gigantic and gorgeous pine wood houses on stilts. Kids playing in the uneven and not flat dirt paths. Bamboo gates and fences. Ginormous trees. Women wearing traditional tribal outfits coming back from the fields. Men smoking cigars or chewing bethel. And the whole background was tea tree plantations. Ufff.....! Wow! Beautiful sunset atmosphere...

At night, after diner, I managed to find out that some of the local kids were rehearsing dances for the October full moon light festival...and the rehearsing was taking place in the monastery. Fantastic!!! So I motivate the Germans and the guide to head out there right on time. (Seriously, I actually had to motivate the Germans when the opportunity is already sao excitingly motivating in itself...oh well...). It was such an experience. That large wooden monastery in the middle of the mountain. Kids and their mothers were sitting down on the floor, around the central area of the monastery, watching two girls and two boys rehearsing and learning from a couple of elders the classical peacock dance. And all throughout, the two very very young novice monks, running around "their home" dressed in their red-ish robes. And a tall golden statue of Buddha watching it all happening. Surreal. Barely any light. Just one weak light bulb which seemed to be from the 80's. After a half hour the Germans and the guide left. Pffff! Whatever. And I stayed until the very end, when it was only the boys and men left. All the mothers and their daughters had gone home. And so when the head monk made everyone understand that he wanted to sleep, everyone cleaned up and got on their way out...in the total darkness of the night, on helped by the stars to fond their way back home. And so I did the same....and slept delightfully well. :-)

The next day, after finishing trekking and making it back to Mr Charles Hotel, a quick shower/laundry. And off to take a bus for 17 hours to Inle Lake...

Burma, second impressions...

Today is October 17th, it is 9:09pm. I am laying down on my bed, windows open, and listening to some local kids playing the guitar on the bridge below, as the moon is almost full...i am in Nyaung Shwe, Inle Lake.

Well, Karen back in Yangon was so right...every new stop is only better than the previous so far. Burma IS unique that way.

So after Yangon, I went to Mandalay, only one and a half night, and one full day. But what a fantastic almost 48 hours.

I arrived in town at about 5 in the morning, just as the sun was showing the tip of its first rays. The bus station is located about 40 minutes from the center of town, or at least where I was hoping to find a place to stay. So I quickly negotiate a good price for a scooter ride. And how amazing it was to ride through the town still partially asleep, except for the monks and a few early shop keepers. A magical defile of red robe dressed monks cruising through town to get to their first food gathering chores. And well, when we arrived by the canals surrounding the royal palace, slightly hazy, and the hills in the back...and barely a home on the road...well, that was it, I was under the spell, yet again.

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and I found Mandalay simply gorgeous...so what!?

I find a good room, with even hot shower and breakfast. Great. I go up, take a quick nap. Well needed after 12 hours in a bus. An am up by 7 am to eat breakfast. Then I book my train ticket for the same night. 12 hours to get to Hsipaw...up north. Then I rent a very basic bike. And off I go, to explore the town and mostly its surroundings like no other tourist dared doing that boiling hot and burning day. I start by looking for the monastery alley. WOW! Oh my god! Magical and so strange at once. Riding through that very long and narrow alley I felt as if traveling back in middle ages times. I was literally saying 'wows' out loud every 2 seconds.

Then after that, I got lost in twisted little dirt path alleys in villages while trying to find the docks and the main slum. More 'wows' yet again...

Finally I find the river shore and the slums along it. Ha! Guess what...more 'wows' I just couldn't believe the beauty of what I was swing, me, the only foreigner around.

Tiny floating bamboo huts spread on the water with narrow bamboo hand made dodgy bridges connecting the whole web together. Then giant bamboo platforms on which the women were washing their clothes and longiis, then spreading all these bright colors all over the platforms, while the kids, bare naked are playing in the chocolate colored river water. And on the shore, flocks of hunch back cows scouting every inch for some sort of grassy substitute while trying to find some shade under the majestic giant centenary baobab looking trees. And in the back ground, a defile of long motorized pirogues zig zagging between the water lilies to go from one side of the shore to the next...anyway, you get the picture...still far from the actual reality! Lol

I spent a good two hours riding through the mud of the slum, and being greeted and smiled at by its so joyful inhabitants. People were were just so welcoming.

Then I headed south, hoping to find somehow the ubber famous U'bein bridge. Probably the second most famous one after the golden gate bridge. Pretty much the longest teak wood bridge in the world. It looked close and easy to find according to the out of proportion to y paper map I had in my sweaty pocket. Oh well...south/south west was the direction, so I check the compass on my watch and went on...pretty much down the river for about two more hours. Ha! Little did I know that I was going way off track. But the road was beautiful. All along the river shore, and under those big trees, there were simple yet comfortable looking two seater bamboo lounge chairs, for couple or potential future couple to come get some shade and further explore their relationship. There were strategically placed umbrellas behind each chair so that it was not possible to see from the road what was happening in the chairs. 

So, about 30 to 35 km south of my hotel, I reach a very long bridge, which looks nice and leads to a beautiful mountain with tons of pagodas. So I think I have reached the famous U'bein, at last. Hahahaha!

When I ask a local where U'bein is (hoping he will confirm my assumption and point at the bridge in front of us), to my disappointment, he tells me I have to head back to Mandalay. No wayyyy!!!

It is already late, about 4 pm and the sun will soon set and I won't see a thing. (Oh yes, VERY important to note that in Burma, unless you are in the very heart of downtown of very large cities, such as pretty much only Yangon, there is no street light infrastructure at night.)

So I head back north while asking every minute for directions again just to confirm that I am on the right track this time. At last I am lucky, yet again, and a local on his scooter offers to escort me all the way as he is going in that direction as well. Yesssss!!!!!

During the 30 or so minutes ride, we go through a weavers village, where huge pine tree wooden houses house numerous weaving machines (yes, whenever people tell you in shop that anything is hand woven, please don't be naive and don't believe them. And take their offering price, divide by two and don't budge until their price reaches yours.), threads of all colors are hung drying, a bit like in Marrakesh, but around pagodas, stupas, and in the streets. Such a delightful unexpected and totally unadvertised spectacle. I decided not to stop and let this be a moment just for myself. No photos. :-)

Finally we reach the bridge...ufffff....tons and tons of people, tourists, locals and foreigner. Never mind, I will come back another day, for sunrise and cross that bridge and take all the photos I want. A bit frustrating though, as the bridge was majestic! I walk around for a bit to take photos of the surroundings as they were quite magnificent as well, yet not at all the center of attention of the tourists.

And then I head back to Mandalay, hoping to make it before dark...another hour of bike before getting to my hotel. Faaaaarrrr...

But on the way, I couldn't help but keep on staring at the people bading in the river. It was beautiful. Everyone spread out between the lilies, and the men actually managing to combine bading up to their chin, and fishing at the same time. Multitasking indeed. Hahaha!

Later on, I absolutely have to stop. I see a bit of commotion on the left, at the entrance of a temple. So curious traveler that I am, I approach...and to my surprise...a soccer game. In the dirt. Players bare feet. No jerseys. And the fans spread out all over, even all over the stupas. Wow! I felt like it was a secret forbidden gathering, not for the eye of the white people. But people dont seem to mind that I am entering with my bike, all the way to the side line. On the contrary, they greet and smile at me.

I stay a bit, take some photos, soak the moment in, and take off. Still quite a bit before I get back home and the sun is only getting lower and lower.

I forgot to mention that the surroundings of Mandalay are not paved. So only dry dirt path...which means lots and lots of dirt dust flying all over. So picture this, plus about 8 to 9 hours on this bike under the burning sun, no air, and barely any cool water. I looked like crap. Seriously, I think I had a layer of dirt all over me, as thick as a T-shirt. Not pleasant at all. By now, I couldn't think about anything else than a freezing cold shower...

Finally I make it home...I shower, and head back out for some food. I walk around for quite a bit before finding a few options that look appetizing. One is an international place, filled indoors with white tourists. Seriously, it felt like all the foreigners of town were in there at the same time. Ufff...no thank you!

Across the street is a place, outdoor, under some trees, filled with people, but the majority of which are bold men with a long beard. Obviously Muslims. Hmmm...can't really see the food not the menu, but so many people must be a good thing, right. So when walking by for the second time, I see this big guy giving me the typical Arabic/Muslim hand gesture that means: "what do you want?". So I answer with the hang gesture that means food. And hop, he calls me in with a big smile. I walk up, and seat down. He gives me a menu in English. Yesssss! (I must say, I have been much lazier at learning Burmese than I was with Indonesian).

I order the traditional sweet tee, and then a chicken biryani. Wow!!!!!!soooooooo yummmmmmy! So simple a dish, yet so perfectly well cooked with all the right ingredients. Burmese's are known for always serving a set of various little plates with all sorts of condiments with each dish you order. Here it was a delicious soup, some pickled sliced onions, and some fresh mint...and some strangely pickled mango slices. So I just pour everything (except the soup which i eat apart) in my main plate to eat it all. Ha! You should have seen the faces of everyone around and off the staff. Not sure they are used to seeing people actually eating the mint and even less so a foreigner. So quickly they come get the little plate that had all the mint leaves in it before I finished it up...and after some time they bring me a new plate with a fresh pile of mint in it. To this day, I am convinced that they did this because the first batch of mint I was served was bit washed with purified water. So nice to see how attentive they were. When I am done, the big bearded guy comes back to my table, we start chatting a bit, and he quickly indicates to me another place across the street where they serve his favorite desert: 'kulpi'. OK, why not. Wow! Another territory of flavors I didn't know existed.

So finally, it is 9 pm when I go to sleep...after having packed my bags. My train departs at 4am...so I have yet another short night ahead...

...sweet and few dreams...

Burma...voila!

Today is October 11th, it is now 7:45pm. I am sitting on bus to get from Yangon to Mandalay...a 10 to 15 hr ride...the music presently playing in the bus is strangely very much sounding like African music. I asked my neighbor, it is actually not music but Buddhist prayers. Ahahaha!

My first impressions of Burma, but mainly Yangon for now are beyond any expectations!

Everyone I had met had raved about Burma and how it had been spectacular for them...

So far, I must say that there are two countries in the world that stay true to their reputation and that only amaze you more the minute you step in the country: Brazil, and now Burma.

I think I want to rename Yangon the Havana of Asia (you can even drink a glass of fresh sugar cane juice at ever street corner!!!),. It exudes such a similar vibe in terms of architecture and infrastructure. People piled on top of each other in cages. Very old and washed off buildings. Except that the street life in Yangon is way more active and busy.

But let me rewind a bit...

After spending a very short but delightful afternoon with Olivier and Sybille in their new apartment in bangkok, I made my long way, yet once again to bkk international airport.

Annoying process to do my check in with Burmese airline...which ended up costing me $5 for two photo copies of my return flight!!!

And so I am sitting in the boarding room, eating for my flight to board. I try to spot out the other few foreigners, in order to anticipate and see if maybe I find someone to share a cab ride and perhaps a guesthouse room once landed in Yangon. (All the books and forum repeat so often how expensive it has gotten to travel through Burma). The first person I spot is a going girl reading a book. OK, why not.

She seems to have a cold and to be looking for tissues, so I quickly land a hand and give her my pack of tissues. We start chatting.

She is actually american, her and her boyfriend have been living and working in Yangon for a year. She currently works for the International Refugee Center (not totally sure about the acronym IRC). Her name is Karen, she is 24, from Chicago. I ask her for tips and advice in terms of destinations and logistics. Just in case...

We land, and meet up again right in front of the door to exit the airport. I was waiting for her while chatting in Spanish with a local guide. Lol funny moment...

I ask if she wants to share a cab, and she offers to crash at her place. Hell yeah!

It's funny, she reminded me so much of Heather, Jonathan's wife, back in Toronto.

And so we spent te whole ride chatting about NGOs and the industry. Exciting!

They live in an area (Tamwe) where only locals live, a bit remote from the downtown core where all foreigners hang out. So even better...some great local experience, yet with the comforting experience of a foreigner who knows the city. My luck!!!

I spent my first two days and two nights at Karen and Marc's place.

One of the main signs proving that Yangon, despite its fast pace of development, is still quite a preserved and authentic not a on touristy place is the fact that I barely saw any foreigners (maybe 8 max in a 4 hour span) on the site of the main tourist attraction of he city as well as the most important religious site of the whole country. Further to that, in two days of walking just about all over te city, I have only seen two small tourist offices. Which is just unbelievable! In Ubud, Bali, you see more tourist offices than places to buy a bottle of water.

Oh, and for the first time ever in my traveler's life, no one, but really no one in the streets, speaks a word of English.

It really shows that Yangon is still very far from being a tourist oriented city. Fantastic! I arrives at the right time! Yay!!!

Funny though, because on the cover of one of the local English magazines it says "tourists are coming, get ready!".

The street food in Yangon is simply amazing. A mix of Indian, Chinese, Thai, Indonesian, and culinary creativity. Never mind Bangkok or Kuala Lumpur, just check out Yangon!

Burma has a strong tea culture. Very much like Morocco or Paris with their coffee culture, more so for men, on both cases. The funny thing though is that al the common tea houses have low plastic chairs and tables, kind of like the ones kids use in the west because they are at the right height for children. The teas served, with different degrees of sweetness, are delicious. A mix between the Indonesian and Indian teas.

One of the most positively shocking observation thus far, and especially compared to Indonesia, is that here no one smokes. Seriously, in two days I have not seen more than a dozen people with a cigarette. The might be due to cost, (not sure yet if Burma produces tobacco), and the fact that every male chews on bethel nut. Or simply perhaps Buddhism says something against tobacco. Some more research awaits me I suppose...

I was also shocked to observe that here, contrary to Indonesia, bethel nut is only chewed by men. While in Indonesia, it was 100% a women's affaire where each woman, especially in the villages, would have a little velvet purse containing all the equipment to arm a complete dose of bethel nut to masticate, here, it is sold, ready to chew, pretty much at every street corner. And men of all ages consume it on a permanent basis. Such a strange contrast...

One of the most beautiful sights when walking around in the morning is the groups of girl monks, all dressed in light pink, and carrying traditional umbrellas, going around the neighborhoods collecting food and money. All with shaved heads, and are usually very very young, between 7 and 15 years old!

Throughout the whole day you can see flocks of monks, male and female, but never male and female together, hovering the city its different neighborhoods, to collect food and money from people and businesses. It is so strange because the more I observe this daily practice and the more I get the feeling that becoming a monk is not a spiritual choice but rather an easy and finance free solution to live for people with financial challenges. Furthermore, my naive and relatively poor exposure and education about Buddhist monks thus far handled me to strongly believe that monks were receiving a superior education on top of their high spirituality, and that all strived to interact as much as possibly with foreigners in order to further that education. Well, I now realize I was totally wrong. I asked so many monks today for simp,e direction in order to try and kick start a conversation or at least some sort of social interaction, and none, absolutely none tried to make an effort to help or communicate. So disappointing...but I will persist...28 days in this country to learn more. :-)

So far Burmese people appear to be quite full of beauty. Both men and women exude not only physically but also personality wise, something I did not observe in either Indonesia, Malaysia, and Thailand. Furthermore, everyone initially looks at you in a strange way, worth a serious and suspicious face (a bit normal given the extremely low quantity of foreigners around), but as soon as you smile at them, their fave lights up and they smile back.

Dis you know that there is a motorcycle ban in the city of Yangon? It is apparently due to the fact that years back, the relative of a high official died in a moto accident. So since then, motos have been banned in the city. This leads to a high flow of bicycle throughout the city.

Another 'fun' fact is that cars in Burma drive on the right side of the road...despite the fact that a good 95% of all cars have the steering wheel on the right side of the car. Burmese used to drive on the left side of the road during British occupation, but one day, the opposing government decided, over night, to switch from left to eight, just to make a statement and symbolically part from the British. Since then, local car dealerships have not really updated their stock I suppose. And neither have the bus dealerships, which, as a consequence, and to prevent from accident, leads buses to need one of the two driving crew to peak through the windows to alert other cars that the bus is turning to the left.

The traffic in Yangon is just insane! I thought I had seen the worst between Sao Paolo and Bangkok, but Yangon reaches a whole different level. At least with the rarity of traffic light, the total absence of police officers, and the partial presence of street light at night, it create an atmosphere of stillness. Walking tends to be faster than taking a car. However the heat is so disgustingly unbearable that taking a seems yet the better option.

The public transportation is amazing here. Options are train (very slow, unreliable, and only looping around the city), trishaw (an old style bicycle with a side seat), standard sort of modern buses, very old fashioned buses all made of wood inside, pick up trucks arranged with seats on the sides in the back, and huge cargo trucks, arrange the same way as the pick up trucks. And classic taxis. The biggest challenge making it almost impossible when away from the main axis is that both numbers and destinations are written in Burmese, which even for the number has nothing to do with our usual Arabic numbers, and scripts. So taxis, trishaws, and your legs are usually the best options based on your budget. :-)

Another fun strange fact is that until a year or so ago, if you wanted to buy a SIM card for your phone, it would cost you around $USD2,000! Today it still cost a few hundred US dollars!...yet, all the locals have a cell phone, and most even have a smart phone. Yet another thing I need to research and better understand.

The more pagodas/temples I see, and the more I realize how much gold, literally, tons of gold donated in each temple, when the country's majority of the population is extremely poor. I just don't get it. How can faith be so blind that it makes you put your entire life, hopes, and money in the hands of something so virtual and abstract as religion?! Life is not fair, and your destiny doesn't depend on god's will but on your own. So move your ass and stop waiting and praying. Just get moving and doing. Plus, with all the money that temples get I do far haven't seen a single monk actually do something for the community, I am so confused...

OK, let's end this post on my favorite fun stuff about Yangon: the "buzzer" system at apartment buildings. Very very archaic yet ingenious and efficient: a long string tied to your balcony or window with a little bell at your apartment level, and a hook or bucket at the street level, with the number of your apartment on it. (Most buildings have only one apartment per floor). I love it!

OK...Mandalay is for the next post...but I should warn you that Karen told me that Yangon is just the beginning...every next destination will be better than the previous one...and well...after a whole day in Mandalay, she was sooooo right!!!
(Though I started this post in the bus in Yangon, I am finishing it in the lobby of the hotel I am staying at in Mandalay).

Good night!