Day 7 – The Road to Mandalay

More papaya, pancake and toast for breakfast at a leisurely pace allowed us all to depart Kalaw for our long road trip to Mandalay.

Rudyard Kipling’s poem, “The Road to Mandalay” was read out by Graham in his best Welsh / London vernacular, to much applause.  His additional adlibs helped relate it to our experiences so far.

George was then able to launch into a bit of history of the Anglo-Burmese wars – once again all about control of the sea routes!  The Japanese briefly overran the country in 1942, helped by Burmese Major General Aung San, who was promised that Burman would become an independent country. The British retreated to India.  Unfortunately, they discovered that the Japanese weren’t any better than the British.  Aung San described the Japanese treatment of the Burmese as “like dogs”.  With the help of Aung San the British were back in control in 1945.  Aung San met Clement Attlee (British PM) in London – but had to borrow a coat from India, as he didn’t own one – and negotiated a union of the states making up Myanmar. Full independence was granted in 1948.    But in July 1947, Aung San was assassinated along with 8 or 9 others.

Buddhism was announced as the state religion, which wasn’t popular in the mostly Christian hill states.  Influence from China’s Communists was also unwelcome.  In 1962, the military took control.  At this time, the Shan people, who had also enjoyed autonomy under the British, also had to give up their power.  All the missionaries left the country, which included the running of the schools.  Everything was nationalised.  It started a period of decline.  By 1964, a socialist constitution had been introduced – very similar to communism.

George described the conditions in the 1970’s and 80’s are very similar to now, except for the freedom to talk politics.  The army and police were not noticeable on the street.  In 1988 the people took to the streets, started by the students, caused by the lack of a decent standard of living.  Lots of students were arrested, fled to other countries or hid in the forests.

1990 saw the government change name (but with the same people) and started to open up as a market economy.  Hotels were built, with the help of Russia.  Phones became available – if you had $4000. Cars had a mark-up of 500%.  Foreign travel was permitted, if you had the money.  Deforestation and natural resource extraction started in earnest e.g. Teak to China.

2007 saw the Saffron Revolution, started by the monks, which lasted a few months, again because of the cost of living.  Monks were beaten and imprisoned. This led to multi party elections in 2010, in which “The Lady” (Aung San Suu Kyi) party didn’t take part.  A “civilian” government was formed, consisting of members who used to be in the military!  At the next election of 2015, there was a landslide victory for “The Lady”, but 25% of the members of parliament are assigned by the army.  This led to more investment from foreign countries.

Nowadays, the army is becoming more flexible and discussions are taking place to bring peace to the whole country.  Freedom of expression is much easier, and the tourist industry is booming.

Over 120,000 Rohinga people are in IDP (Internally Displaced People) camps.  The muslim Rohinga have been in the country for several generations, but they don’t have citizenship.  Most have immigrated from Bangladesh. Conflict erupted and the killing started – stoked due to the political situation.  “The Lady” kept quiet on the topic, because she was in a lose-lose situation.  Long term, it’s likely that they will be given citizenship, but not be recognised as an ethnic grouping from Myanmar – more as a foreign minority.

We had passed a truck crash on the side of the road – the cab was completely crushed.  Worrying. After many downhill bends, we stopped briefly at a service station – to cool the brakes with a water hose.  Everyone was doing it.  Another one added to the list of possible ways to die in Myanmar!  During this stop, we witnessed a young novice monk with a gun.  Sometimes pointing it, but mostly trying to hide it from our cameras.  We’re not sure if it was really or imitation.  Looked real enough to us!  Another one on the list!

Although yesterday’s blog was entitled 20 ways to die in Myanmar, I didn’t actually name them … so far we have :

1. Too many chillies
2. Any other food
3. Attacked by dogs
4. Mosquitos / Malaria
5. Snakes
6. Toilets
7. Domestic plane crash
8. Train rocking off the rails
9. Drowning
10. Engine fume poisoning
11. Germs from ice
12. Germs from glasses
13. Burnt by the sun
14. Upsetting the Army
15. Talking politics in public
16. Road traffic accident as a pedestrian
17. Road traffic accident in a vehicle
18. Bus brake failure & cliffs
19. Monks with guns
20. Faulty lifts

Back on the bus, the diatribe continued with more information on “The Lady” and her house arrest and rise to power.  Also the former UN Secretary General, U Thant who helped in the Cuban Bay of Pigs crisis.  In 1974, U Than’s body and coffin were taken by students because he wasn’t granted a state funeral.  The army blew up the Student Union when they didn’t return the body.  Not the best way to make friends and influence people!

We continued through the rural countryside at a sedate pace.  Small children sat idly by the roadside or entertaining themselves in the dirt, and we saw all manner of bamboo and brick shacks, carts, produce, bamboo fences, motorcycles and colour passing by.

The bus stopped briefly at a shrine to a previous governor of the province, and the assistant driver jumped out to pay respects and came back with some leaves – “Eugena”?  “Nats” are the (non buddhist) spirits that are also still worshipped in this area.  People will have two shrines – one to the Nats and one to Buddha “just in case”!

There was much evidence of road construction and we passed through a toll booth to help finance this.

We stopped off at a pot seller and two young kids were watching cartoons on their tablet.  They were good at English (even at the age of about 7 or 8) and we found out all about Iron Man, Spiderman and Batman from them.  Pokémon and Power Rangers toys were scattered about, but they seemed most concerned at the lack of light (electricity).  They were very keen to use the phrase “See you later” and we eventually got the hint and left.  At that age, they learn English from their parents.  Currently it’s the 3 months of the summer holiday (March – June) which is why they weren’t in school.

More from George – this time on funerals.  Gambling is banned, but they are allowed to play cards at funerals!  Catholics are now allowed to be cremated.   In related news, healthcare is available privately or relatively cheaply from the government, but traditional medicine is still widely used.

We drove on, past some man made lakes to the junction town of Meiktila, where we stopped for lunch.  Almost everyone took the chips option.  Mostly on their owns.  I added prawns in a lemon sauce.  Not all of the prawns were edible, in that they had a few too many hard bits included, however the lemon sauce was fantastic.

Back in the bus, we drove on to the highway to Mandalay.  This was dual carriageway i.e. two lanes, which the driver managed to straddle most of the way to our destination.  Every so often he had to pick a lane to filter through the toll booths.  The road wasn’t exactly busy, and he was able to reach speeds of up to 60mph.  I think this was more limited by the brakes than the law.

On the approach to Mandalay, I could see that every hillock was covered in a Golden Stupa.  Mandalay is the religious centre of the country and there are more monks and monasteries here that anywhere else in the country.  However, driving through the second biggest city in Myanmar to our hotel, we noticed that it was mostly a very modern place with large shopping centres and a buzz of neon and moving LEDs.

The Hotel Marvel was on the 4^th floor, above the train station – probably in the same manner that the Dundee Train Station will look when it’s eventually finished.  I hope it’s as posh.  Once we all squeezed into the lifts, we were offered orange and papaya juice and a refreshing towel before the bell boys fought to take our bags to our rooms, show us there, turned on the air con and then came back later to offer a turn down service.  The hotel foyer also featured a spa, restaurant and enormous snooker/billiard table.  The famed karaoke bar was thankfully far away.  I could see the trains arriving from my balcony though.  Hopefully the noise won’t be too bad.

Managed a quick snooze and then the chicken and fried rice on the hotel terrace.

We’d booked a trip to see the marionette puppets, so we jumped in a couple of taxis to take the 7 of us across night time Mandalay to the tiniest of theatres.  The lights dimmed, the band paused from tuning their instruments incessantly, and continued playing the same thing.  The curtain rose – just a little, and a harpist started the show.  Followed by a dancer.  Eventually the puppets appeared, each time preceded by some sort of story in English, but it was quite hard to follow.  I do remember that there was a horse, a monkey, an alchemist and a snake appear at several points.  Occasionally, the curtain would rise higher revealing the puppet masters themselves.  Some of the puppets had a violent fight on stage, and the masters had a few words as well.  It was unclear who was doing the singing – there might have been a cat being strangled out the back.  It was entertaining, if not necessarily repeatable.  I really should learn.  The seats were the most uncomfortable wooden slat type.  The redeeming features were that it finished bang on time and when the 85 year old puppet master’s master was introduced.  I even got to shake his hand afterwards.  He wisnae bad a’ a’.

After a slight detour via a closed bar, we end up back at the hotel bar, trying hard not to hear the karaoke from the 7^th floor every time someone opened a door up there.

It’s a busy day tomorrow.  Here’s hoping it will be as enjoyable as the rest …

“Mandalay” by Rudyard Kipling

BY THE old Moulmein Pagoda, lookin’ lazy at the sea,
There’s a Burma girl a-settin’, and I know she thinks o’ me;
For the wind is in the palm-trees, and the temple-bells they say:
“Come you back, you British soldier; come you back to Mandalay! “
Come you back to Mandalay,
Where the old Flotilla lay:
Can’t you ‘ear their paddles chunkin’ from Rangoon to Mandalay ?
On the road to Mandalay,
Where the flyin’-fishes play,
An’ the dawn comes up like thunder outer China ‘crost the Bay!

‘Er petticoat was yaller an’ ‘er little cap was green,
An’ ‘er name was Supi-yaw-lat – jes’ the same as Theebaw’s Queen,
An’ I seed her first a-smokin’ of a whackin’ white cheroot,
An’ a-wastin’ Christian kisses on an ‘eathen idol’s foot:
Bloomin’ idol made o’ mud
Wot they called the Great Gawd Budd
Plucky lot she cared for idols when I kissed ‘er where she stud!
On the road to Mandalay…

When the mist was on the rice-fields an’ the sun was droppin’ slow,
She’d git ‘er little banjo an’ she’d sing “Kulla-lo-lo!
With ‘er arm upon my shoulder an’ ‘er cheek agin my cheek
We useter watch the steamers an’ the hathis pilin’ teak.
Elephints a-pilin’ teak
In the sludgy, squdgy creek,
Where the silence ‘ung that ‘eavy you was ‘arf afraid to speak!
On the road to Mandalay…

But that’s all shove be’ind me – long ago an’ fur away
An’ there ain’t no ‘busses runnin’ from the Bank to Mandalay;
An’ I’m learnin’ ‘ere in London what the ten-year soldier tells:
“If you’ve ‘eard the East a-callin’, you won’t never ‘eed naught else.”
No! you won’t ‘eed nothin’ else
But them spicy garlic smells,
An’ the sunshine an’ the palm-trees an’ the tinkly temple-bells;
On the road to Mandalay…

I am sick o’ wastin’ leather on these gritty pavin’-stones,
An’ the blasted English drizzle wakes the fever in my bones;
Tho’ I walks with fifty ‘ousemaids outer Chelsea to the Strand,
An’ they talks a lot o’ lovin’, but wot do they understand?
Beefy face an’ grubby ‘and –
Law! wot do they understand?
I’ve a neater, sweeter maiden in a cleaner, greener land!
On the road to Mandalay…

Ship me somewheres east of Suez, where the best is like the worst,
Where there aren’t no Ten Commandments an’ a man can raise a thirst;
For the temple-bells are callin’, an’ it’s there that I would be
By the old Moulmein Pagoda, looking lazy at the sea;
On the road to Mandalay,
Where the old Flotilla lay,
With our sick beneath the awnings when we went to Mandalay!
O the road to Mandalay,
Where the flyin’-fishes play,
An’ the dawn comes up like thunder outer China ‘crost the Bay !

Day 6 – In Kalaw : Walking, Animals, and 20 Ways to Die

Breakfast started the day as normal, but without a buffet selection.  We had waiter service for a change!  Papaya and watermelon to start, followed by pancake and honey, toast and jam and a choice of eggs.  As usual, I avoided the eggs.  And the watermelon.  And the coffee.

We set off on the bus for a planned 4 hour trek in the hills.  We passed many army trucks.  Perhaps they were keeping an eye on us?

We started the walk with an assistant guide who led us along a dirt track, constantly filled with motorbikes – most with at least 2 people on – and only one of them wearing a helmet (mostly the man!)  The fields were neatly laid out and farmers were tending their crops together with the help of some oxen (or horned cattle).

Dog Pee Plant

Jack Fruit

Cabbages

George explained that over 70 different types of bamboo are available – it’s strong and fast growing, making it ideal for all sorts of things e.g. houses, mats, fences etc…

Even out here, the golden stupas and monasteries were still evident. George introduced us to many of the plants and trees growing along the way, including teak – a much used hardwood that takes 50 years to grow, and a tree from which castor oil can be made.  A government project to plant lots of these and use them to produce electricity failed miserably.  Also worth noting was a blue plant locally called the “dog pee” plant.  No further explanation necessary.

Farmers kids in the field

Creating the furrows for ginger

Ginger planting

Cabbages growing

Ginger and Cabbages

 

We next came across a lady planting ginger into furrows.  The ginger was the size that we would generally buy it, but we were assured that it should grow up to 10 times larger in roughly 7-8 months.  The fields next door were overflowing with cabbages, as far as the eye could see.  An amazing sight!  We were led through narrow raised paths through the fields and up past more ginger planters.  The youngest kids sit in the shade whilst the parents work.

Roadside petrol station

Walking on, we stopped occasionally at shady spots.  Passing jackfruit, orange and pear trees, as well as a rudimentary petrol station selling whisky bottles full of petrol, we arrived at a hill top village  called Lu Pyi after 2 hours of walking.

Mingalabar

The chariots await

Dressed like a prince!

Future Novitiate Monks?

The locals were very friendly, with lots of shouts of “Hello” or “Mingalaba” from the kids.  The local monastery was preparing for the initiation ceremony for novice monks.  These were 8 or 9 year old children from the village who would spend 7-10 days being initiated into the Buddhist faith, and then return to their homes.  It’s only a short novitiate, but all (male) children take part at some point.  Decorations were being hung and ceremonial plastic seat carriages were prepared for carrying them to the monastery.  The children dress up as princes, and the ceremony lasts two days.  On the second day, their hair is shaved.  The parents are involved, and their pride is immense, apparently.

We were shown into a local house, where young women were making Shan tea (of various strengths), and we were invited to drink, together with some home cooked crisps.  Excellent!  George had also brought some biscuits for us, as well as medicines (such as paracetamol) for the village which he gave to the monks.  Ethna and I had the opportunity to try on the local traditional Palaung costumes.  Not sure they had any in my size though.

Leaving the house, we found a bike mounted ice cream seller, and challenged my stomach with a green thing on a stick.  Much coolness!

Continuing the walk, downhill, we passed piles of rubbish – they don’t really have a solution to this anywhere in the country.  More cheerily, we saw a huge stupa being built. It was still at the bare brick stage, with a bit of scaffolding around.  A pack of dogs stood guard and the growls made us quickly move on.

Passing further crops of bananas, onions and watercress, we arrived at the main road, and our lunch venue.  As it was included in the tour, we didn’t get a choice – but what arrived was avocado, watercress, chicken soup, rice, fried tofu and various other unidentified vegetables.  It was actually very nice, but my meat senses were somewhat underwhelmed.  The watercress in particular was excellent.

A short drive back to the hotel and we had free time to explore Kalaw further.  Whilst some who had explored the previous day visited further out to a bamboo buddha, I stayed with a visit to the market, climbed the hill to the monastery for a view over the town and walked out to see the tudor style train station.

Flag seller

Market

The small market was quite quiet, but after several attempts at asking, I managed to purchase a Myanmar flag, and to the surprise of the seller, got her picture as well.  Ethna had broken her sunglasses, so I also helped her find a shop that sold RayBans for 3000 kyats (£1.80) or Lacoste for 18,000 kyats (£10.70).  She went for the more expensive option!

The monastery had a shaded walkway up the hill, and a view over Kalaw.  On the way back down, I encountered some red ants eating their way through a larger beastie.  Also on show was a teenager with a flying drone, rather randomly he appear to be sleeping with it on his face.

Wandering to the far end of town to the train station, a train had just arrived, and I enjoy the atmosphere of the various passengers asking the stations seller for food, sending her rushing up and down the platform dishing out polystyrene containers.  The passengers ate as much as they wanted, and then dropped the containers so that the dogs could finish off the rest.  Meanwhile the diesel engine appeared to have been turned off, and despite the attention of 3 policemen, a railway engineer, a man with a flag, 3 others and a monk, the engine had not been restarted after 40 minutes.  The tudor aspect of the building was underwhelming, although there were separate toilets for tourists and a very nice poster about how to behave in Myanmar – including not sitting on pillows!

Walking back to the hotel, I spied several groups of boys / young men playing keepie uppie with a rattan ball.  One was playing a guitar (not at the same time!)  Generally there was a café culture apparent, and not just the tourists.  Luckily I found the Poe Poe bakery was right next to our hotel, and did a mean line in doughnuts and cakes.

That night, 10 of us headed back to the Everest Nepali restaurant, and I ordered exactly the same mutton curry (goat) but it somehow tasted different.  I think there was less garlic in the chapatti. Still one of the best restaurants on the trip so far though.  Finished it off with a banana and chocolate chapatti and a hot ginger, lime & honey drink.

Not satisfied, we headed to the smallest bar in the world – the “Hi Bar”.  Nelson, another patron, introduced himself in pretty good English, and commented that even though I was Scottish, my English wisnae bad either.  He worked at an elephant sanctuary to the south of Kalaw ($100 for a half day visit).  It was not the kind of place to ride elephants, or see them kicking footballs or drawing, but you were able to feed and wash them and see them in a more natural environment.  We were heading in the opposite direction, unfortunately.

The bar didn’t do beer, so rum sour was the order of the day.  The place could probably hold 20 people max, and by the time we left, there were 8 of us, 2 locals and the barman.  I think we might have caught something from the glasses!

Chamabasse (Your Good Health) …

Day 3 – Inle Lake

An earlyish start today forced me to be ready to depart straight from breakfast.  Meeting George in the queue, and he’s got the idea that I’m looking for the traditional foods, so he suggested mohinga – a fish based noodle soup traditionally eaten at breakfast.  It includes other things, like crispy things and chillies.  Sans chillies, por favor.  With a choice of a chinese style spoon or chopsticks, I still managed to dribble down my fresh t-shirt.   It was actually very nice.  However, I joined the group at 8:15am with a couple of cakes in hand!

We walked through the town of Nyaung Shwe to the jetty, passing the busy early morning citizens going about their business – fascinating!  Motorbikes are banned in Yangon, but here they are very popular, and carry all sorts of things, including people.  We boarded three longtail boats – slim with a big noisy diesel engine on the back, and a vicious, movable propeller on a long stalk.  They each had 5 forward facing seats in a row, each with a lifejacket and holey blanket to help cushion them.  We headed down the canal, and towards the open water of Inle Lake.  Together with every other longtail boat in the area.

Immediately we could see some fisherman, who were obviously there for the cameras, demonstrating their famous one legged oaring action, whilst fishing at the same time, with a large kreel or net.  They steer the boat with their leg, keeping their hands free for the fishing.

Bamboo fish whacking

Weed collecting

They also hit the water with large bamboo poles to attract the fish.  Personally, if I saw a strange man with a huge pole, I’d run away, but then again, fish are probably stupid.  Further on, we also witnessed the collection of a large amount of the floating water plants onto the boats.  This is partly to keep the waterways clear, but is also used in floating gardens – to support the float and also, as it decays, as compost.  They grow lots of vegetables (those green things in Tesco) on their floating gardens – more on that later.

Houses on stilts

Gathering mud

Washing clothes

Turning out the of the main lake, we passed through a stilted village and witnessed the daily life here. Gutting fish, washing clothes, bathing, mud gathering and sleeping (the men obviously).

We arrived at a small group of buildings that turned out to be Inle Shwe Inn Tain.  The site housed over 1000 stupas in various states of restoration – some just piles of bricks with trees growing through the middle of them, and some completely restored and painted gold, white or left red.  We walked through a throng of young kids all in bright yellow florescent football tops selling brightly coloured cotton scarfs – or trying to.  George did his best to give us a bit of history and also how Buddhism copied a lot from Hinduism – hence a lot of confusing bits on the mixture of stupas and temples (temples have niches and statues, stupas don’t).  Who knew?

Temple

Cotton scarf selling kids

Buffalo washing

After a few stupas were snapped, we crossed a herd of cows and headed to the Golden Kite restaurant for a toilet stop – and to witness some Buffalo washing.  The keeper of the buffalo was encouraging it to enter the river and wash itself.  They then walked off together arm in arm. Ahhhh.

Golden Stupas

Needing refubished stupas

Cheroot smoker

We walked up the hill, taking the path of least market sellers, I did get distracted with an old man who was very photogenic, but we raced to the top – where the greatest number of restored stupas were.  It was an enchanting scene and several had chimes high up which rang out in the slight breeze.  Within the pagoda itself, at the top of the hill, was another cacophany of gold stupas, dogs and monks.  The monks were eating, the dogs were sleeping and the stupas were spectacular!  I started a craze of taking photos next to the sleeping dog.  It didn’t seem to bother, and with all the gold behind them, very few of the group probably noticed the dog!

Sleeping puppies

Limbless artist at work

$150 helmet!

Kids still “selling”!

We wandered, unaccompanied, back downhill and through the covered market stalls, trying hard not to glance too long at any one object, as the traders were keen to pounce if they sensed a weakness.  Nearly everything started at $45 and you were expected to haggle.  Nothing was worth anywhere near $45, so haggling from such a high price proved too difficult for most.  The traders at the bottom of the hill were far more reasonable, and some good discount were available.  I noted interest (by a 2 second glance) at a fur lined horned helmet – initial price $150.  Err no.  I did manage to find a golden buddha face to hang on the wall (after all Myanmar is the “Golden Land”) and some fridge magnets.

Kids fishing

The boat boys

Toilets!

Shan Noodles

We escaped back onto the boats, to head back the way we had come to the Golden Moon restaurant for a spot of lunch.  George recommended the Shan noodle soup (with chicken) – a traditional dish of the Shan state (where we are just now).  It was delicious, if slightly difficult to eat with the spoon or chopsticks.  Less went on the t-shirt this time around.  I also sampled some of the tea leaf salad order by Julia.  Glad I didn’t have a whole one!  The toilets here were worryingly behind a curtain, but thankfully included cubicles after that!

Back on the water for all of 5 minutes, we visited a silver smith and were shown the process of creating the silver items from lumps of the metal (already refined) – including how to check if it is silver plated, or pure silver and how to spin the silver into a fine wire. The prices of various items were in US$.  Passing on that then.

Next stop on the tour of the lake was to another pagoda – this time much busier with tourists – Phaung Daw Oo.  We climbed the stairs and discovered that the objects of attention here were five lumps of gold.  These were originally images of buddha, but worshippers had applied do much gold leaf to them over the years that no buddha image could be seen.  These had originally been lost at sea in 1965 when they were transported here.  Four were found in the wreckage of the ship, and the fifth miraculously appeared later!

The key thing here was that ladies were forbidden to approach the shrine.  So I ferried cameras up and down and took as many close-ups as possible for them.  Apparently woman are dirty, or some such thing!  The men were loving this.  The woman not so much!

One of the group discovered the delights of Asian style toilets – to the great amusement of the rest of the group.  Thankfully, only a number one was required.

I avoided the decorative archery bow seller – althought I would have loved it, it was too big for the bag.  It was pointed out that I must have missed a bit of sun cream, as one side of my neck was a deep red.  Cue hats, towels and umbrellas all being used back on board the boat.  I sat quietly at the back to try to minimise the laughter.

Royal barge

Keeping out of the sun!

Heading through more stilted houses, we entered the narrow boat lanes of the floating gardens – compost on top of floating plants.  All sorts of vegetables were being produced – none of which I recognised in their leafy states (or probably close up either).

Our last stop of the day was to the stilted Nga Phe Kyaung Monastery on the lake – also known as the jumping cat monastery as the monks used to encourage the cats to literally jump through hoops for the tourists – but alas, no more.  The monastery contain lots of elaborate golden buddha shrines (dating from the 19th century) that were removed for safekeeping from the rich houses in the surrounding areas when the communists/army initially took over the state in the 1960’s.  The rich people weren’t so safe.

Of course, there was also a market through which we had to pass to get to the viewpoint on the other side.  Not sure it was worth it.  But the cats were still there.  And the monks! And a young man with a very long and whispy goatee.

Unsuccessfully tried to get some political commentary from George.  Discovered that a good wage would be about $600 a month, and that you only pay 10% tax on earnings over $500/month.  So it’s a very cash rich society, with a lot of endemic corruption.

Heading back to the hotel, our boat driver did his best to slow down whenever we raised our cameras in the general direction of a fisherman – partly so that he could steer closer without disturbing the fish and partly so that we had more time to capture images.  I have to say the fishermen generally seem to have changed their tactics from the tourist bumph.  Proved really difficult to get a geniune photo in the style advertised.

As the sun began to set, we woke up those that had dozed on the return journey and walked back to the hotel, passing locals playing volleyball.  The changing light in the village refocused the photographers on the same shots as taken earlier.

Back in the hotel, there was time for a freshen up and change of clothes – it was even cool enough for long trousers – but my no means cold.  Most of the group headed off to the Lotus, clocking the massage parlour on the way.  The Lotus had hand written menus in a wallpaper covered book.  However the food was OK, but the prices were great.  For me – sweet and sour chicken & rice, a coke zero and an avocado, banana and lime fruit juice all for £4.20!  Even the non-rice eater was delighted at the option of a lightly toasted cheese sandwich, french fries and ketchup.

His delight was compounded when we headed to the bar across the road, which had a pool table, rum cocktails and almost every non Burmese person in town in it.  Service was a bit slow, so I had to order 2 at a time.  Add tamarind to a mojito for an extra kick!  The rum sours here didn’t contain egg white though, so were a bit flat.  Excited that Mandalay Rum seems to taste very good!

As we staggered back, through completely empty streets (at 10:30pm) – having had 4 large cocktails for £6, we reminisced on the full day of activities and vowed to visit the pub again tomorrow.  If we can remember where it is …

 

 

 

 

 

Day 2 – Gold, Buddhas, Cake & Wet Wipes

This morning started far too early – 6:45am breakfast, and the umbiquitous chicken sausage made an appearance on my plate.  Also managed a green cake to go with the toast and jam.  And some noodles, and chicken, and fish.  OK, basically everything except the eggs.

Our bags were collected by porters and loaded onto the bus by 7:30am.  George gave us all a present of a woven water bottle holder.  Not sure we all appreciated it that much as only one was still on show by the end of the day!  It’s the thought that counts though.

Our first stop of the day, was to the Shwedagon Pagoda.  We entered via the south entrance and were asked to hand over our shoes and socks.  Those wearing shorts above the knee were asked to don a “longyi” – a tube of cotton that looks like a sarong, but is apparently much harder to walk in!  The men had the knot tied at the front, the woman on the left.  Thankfully, I’d just loosened my belt a bit and let my shorts adopt the teenager look – and they apparently passed the knee, so no longyi required.

We took the lift up to the pagoda level (rather than the stairs) and met under a Bodhi tree – the same kind that Buddha was sitting under when he was enlightened.  Even at this stage, the amount of gold on show was amazing – shrines everywhere, buddhas everywhere – but also scaffolding and major restorations were in progress.

George, and several small children, demonstrated the ringing of the bell – three strokes with a baseball bat.  We moved on to the main area and were confronted with the huge golden stupa in the centre of the complex.  This houses relics of the buddha – in this case hair.

Shwedagon Stupa

Smaller shrines pointing skyward (64 of them) circle the 98m high stupa – apparently 21,000+ bars of gold were used in its construction, but it’s basically brick and plaster underneath.  There is also a lot of gold leaf used elsewhere – and you can buy some for 30p (500 khats) to attach at your leisure. Some of these shrines, at the cardinal points of the compass, were assigned to birth days and you are supposed to pray at the shrine for your own birth day.  Incense and candles were being burned, water was being poured, flowers and fruit were left as offerings.  There were also teams hard at work to clean up the mess left behind!

Barefoot, we padded carefully around the complex, taking pictures and absorbing the sights and sounds of a deeply religous place.  From the jewel encrusted golden stupa, to the elegantly carved wooden temples and gold leaf and painted statues, with only the occasional use of flashing LED lighting, it was a sight to behold.

The shaved heads of monks and nuns, buddhas in all sorts of poses, large gongs that MGM would be proud to have, huge 42 ton bells that I would have loved to strike, holy water, festive garlands, fragrant flowers, and the odd palm tree.  The list could go on and on.

Well OK, I will then … how about a currency booth, an ATM and a restaurant, a swishly dressed dyed blonde haired man in a red jacket carrying an umbrella, an umbrella salesman (miniature – for offerings), several cute kids, and a few builders with great pioneering skills – no American pioneering here!  The builders were sawing bamboo to make ladders custom fitted to the particular building they were working on.

We met back with George who helped us to reclaim our shoes, via the souvenir shop and large fan – both welcome.  The first of the day’s wet wipes were given and used – to clean the dirt off your feet before you put your shoes back on!  I decided against the fridge magnets at this point, as the whole shop was very expensive.

Back at the bus, the driver’s kid had laid out a wooden step and was there to give a helping hand to anyone who needed it.  Other kids were trying to sell musical Charlie Chaplin moustaches.  Our bus was thankfully moving by that point, or I don’t know how many I would have bought!

Sule Pagoda

Independence Monument

We headed into the centre of Yangon and the Sule Pagoda.  The British built a grid pattern of streets based on this as the centre. We debussed and walked past the colononial era city hall and the former supreme court (former, as the capital has now moved 200 miles north) into a pleasant green park with a large pointy obelisk in the middle – this was the Independence Monument – to celebrate getting rid of the British in 1948.  It was now dwarfed by a few modern skyscrappers.

On the way we were occassionally interrupted by some young monks begging for money.  Our guide advised that they should not be doing this, and not to give them anything.  They were “bad monks”.

I did buy some postcards – the pretty woman selling them was not the reason.  They use a natural paste as suncream – but they don’t rub it in, and it is accepted as enhancing their beauty.  Some of the younger kids use it as well, but the men are obviously too macho for that.

The tour continued to the Telegraph Office, where there was a large queue to register their mobile phones – only a recent government initiative to try and track them all.  Big Brother is watching.  They all seemed happy to do so.  Only 7 years ago, you could pay US$500 just for a SIM card (not the phone).  Nowadays they are available for US$1.  We also formed a smallish queue to buy stamps.

Continuing down Pansodan Street, we passed many colonial buildings that had seen better days – including one with more greenery growing out the top than faded green paint on its wall, that was bombed by the Japanese in 1943, and never restored.  The street was full of all sorts of peddlers – included a large quantity of English books – English is taught in schools, so the demand is high.  Bells, hats, flip flops and household products were all on display.  They were also many families having an early lunch, sitting low around a table on the street.  Betel leaves – chewed with lime (the white stuff, not the fruit) were available, and there were large manual sugar cane presses churning out juice.

We passed the site of Grindlay’s Bank before arriving at the Strand Hotel – so posh that they don’t allow shorts after 6pm, although I believe the high tea is well worth it.  Our bus met us and whisked us off the few miles to the Reclining Buddha.  The only problem was the traffic – it took 40 minutes to move through town, with lots of honking of horns and gunning of engines to cut into traffic.

Buddha’s many positions

Inappropriate LED usage

Birds for sale

The Reclining Buddha

We had been warned that the 1960’s built Reclining Buddha was a bit feminine looking.  And they were correct.  It was also housed in what could only be described as an aircraft hanger.  It was huge – 70m long – the eye ball was 1.76m wide!  They had at least built an appropriately sited photo platform at one end.  I managed a water offering to the Monday tiger shrine in the corner.  Lots of small golden buddhas here. After a quick walk round, we had another wet wipe to cleanse the dirt from our feet.  The dogs outside managed a karaoke chorus – not sure of the tune, but they were very loud!  Just before we got back on the bus, a cage of many birds caught our attention – the idea is the visitors think it’s cruel and so pay to release a bird.  There is some flawed logic in there somewhere.

We travelled on, past the Yangon Radar Station, to the domestic terminal at the airport.  It had recently been done up / built only 2 months previously, so was very large, very nice and very empty – especially of planes.  Our 2:45pm scheduled flight had already been delayed to 4:20pm by the time we checked in, but was advertised as 5:30pm by the time we’d been there a while.  The reason for this was that the well known “Mann Yadanarpon Airlines” (www.airmyp.com) only has two planes.  And there had been a storm elsewhere, la la, la, la, la …

How can anyone survive on a bag that small?

Some people managed to fit two weeks worth of clothes into a very small bag, whereas mine, as usual, includes the kitchen sink.

4 port portable chargers were available on request!

Anyway, we got a box of cakes and a free drink out of the 3 hour delay.  Unfortunately, we’d already been working on emptying the place of beer – Karen and John and I were chatting.  Who knew one person (not me) could rack up £30+ worth of cake and beer – we think that was 5 cakes and 7 beers, but we lost count.  All were nice.  Others in the group had visited the upstairs all you can eat lounge for $10 – but no alcohol.

Once the cake stand was empty, we moved on to KFC, which I justified internally as I had the Chilli Lime Chicken – totally Myanmar food and not available in the UK!

Boarding the plane

Yangon from the north

Eventually boarding the plane, we took off at 5:40pm – 2×2 seats wide – twin propeller plane!  Shortly after, the ever cheerful cabin steward gave us even more cakes and a cheese sandwich. Well, I say cheese.  It couldn’t possibly have been anything else?  And a wet wipe.

We arrived in Heho airport at 6:50pm and deplaned to one of the smallest airports on the planet (and another wet wipe).  Baggage reclaim was in the form of pointing at your bag.  We wheeled them out to a metal trek cart and the two guys literally rolled them down hill at speed towards the bus.  We kept up just to make sure that they weren’t stealing them!

On a large coach now, we headed to Inle Lake in the pitch dark, on narrow country roads that could barely take two large buses in places.  In the distance, a large red full moon helped to illuminate many raging hillside fires – remnants of sugar cane being burned after harvest, apparently.  George explained that only 40% of the population have electricity and the population do a lot to contribute to deforestation to heat their homes.  Creating an electricity distribution network is therefore one of the main priorities of the current government.

We were met at the Hupin Hotel in Nyaung Shwe, with a welcome drink and a wet wipe, and shown our comfortable but basic rooms.  Air con, a TV and WiFi make the place perfectly acceptable.

Meeting for dinner, Graham, Rosemary and I were at one end, and having just discovered that IndyRef2 was officially on the table again, we chatted about that and then George’s previous stint at being a Catholic priest was mentioned – he didn’t stick it due to the celibacy requirement – he was only 27 at the time.  Got the feeling that there was probably more to it than that – and he hinted at the attitude of others already ordained to their vows was somewhat lax.

More “Chicken with lovely scent” and rice later, and we all retired for the night.

As we are in Shan Province, I need to find some Shan Noodles … and a wet wipe.

Day 1 (Officially) – Burny, burny, taxi, taxi (In Yangon)

A relaxed morning resulted in a rush to breakfast at 9:45am – still only 3:15am UK time.  Four other members of group were sitting there – Gail & John has been joined by their son, Tom, who was travelling the world (heading to New Zealand) and their friend, Ethna.

I managed to find chicken, fish and some kind of thick noodle, whilst avoiding the fried eggs or anything else that looked western.  My only concession was toast & strawberry jam.  Who could resist?

After we compared itineraries, we went our seperate ways, only to meet up again at the National Museum – a short walk from the hotel.  Unfortunately for all of us, the museum was closed.  So said the sign on the gate.  But you could also walk in, and I discovered a uniformed man sitting in the shade outside telling folks like me that the museum was closed because of the full moon.  So, let’s run that through once again – they are paying you to turn up to tell people to go away, when they could have just locked the gate?  Hmmm!

I tagged on to the family group as we headed north towards the “People’s Park” – an area of some trees, either dead or over watered grass and lots of locals hogging the only shade available.  Ethna was a bit displeased about this – bearing in mind that her home in Montreal, Canada was currently at -16°C, and we were at 36°, feels like 45°C!

We parted shortly afterwards – they went to investigate an inflatable Santa Claus, whilst I headed to the House of Memories.  Now a piano bar and restaurant, that formerly housed the office of Major General Aung San – the father of Aung San Su Kyi and also known as the father of modern Burma. He was assassinated on 19th July 1947 – 6 months before independence was gained from Britain in 1948.  He was pretty much the Prime Minister at the time (but that wasn’t his title).

I tried hard not to sweat on the menu as I made my choice of pork and mango pickle curry, with some refreshing ginger ale. The ice in the drink and the air conditioned old house finally did their trick – helped on by an ice cream.  Thankfully just finished as the large tour groups started to arrive on their buses.  Very decent at £9 (including two drinks) – 15,000 khats.

Afterwards, I toured the historical colonial style villa with its genuine antique furniture and many old pictures of the Aung San family.  His wife was Khin Kyi.  Or so he said.

I decided against a long walk in the afternoon sun, and instead a taxi delivered me to a point furthest from the hotel – the Botataung Pagoda.  Outside was a throng of locals and an open entrance.  I headed towards the door, but the Tourist Police ushered me instead into an air conditioned building next door.  Apparently foreigners have to buy tickets.  Hey ho.  Some very nice ladies insisted on taking my photo – for the ticket – and laughed loudly as I spent time wiping the sweat from my brow and fixing my hair.  You’ve got to look good for any photo.  The final ticket was a masterpiece, with my very fine photo, even if I do say so myself!

Heading back to the entrance, I was robbed of my shoes and socks and ushered through airport style security.  Well, it was there – I just nodded at the guard and walked around the gate anyway.  He wasn’t at all bothered.  All the locals were religiously having their handbags searched though.  There are some perks of being a recognisable tourist!

I joined a single file queue until I had sight of Buddha’s first sacred hair relic.  It was surrounded by gold and many jewels.  There was a bit of jostling at this, and it was the only point in the day when I had to reach down and check my wallet was still there.  Personal space please.

I then followed others through a minor maze of gold plated corridors, laid out in triangles, with doorways halfway along the wall, and people praying (or using their mobiles) in the corners.  On the small outside wall of each pie slice, was a cabinet displaying various gold or other precious items.  All had large grills seperating you from seeing them properly.  One had a further cage and padlock on top of that.  Not really sure what was behind, but most people walked quickly past.  At the end of the maze, I headed out of the stupa and into the grounds of the pagoda.

With bear feet, the ground was incredibly hot and I headed towards the shade.  I was met there by a man who started chatting.  He was called Tin, and was obviously wanting to be my guide.  He said that his [–insert random family member here–] had been trained by Scottish Police and that POLICE stood for Polite, Obedient, Loyal, Intelligent, Courageous and Efficient.  I immediately doubted that any relation of his had been trained in Scotland.

Anyway, he walked me through the Buddhist customs when visiting a pagoda.  Based on my birth day (Monday), I had to use a specific shrine (facing East) and he asked me to pour 5 cups of water on the Buddha (as a Christian) – once for Jesus, once for the bible, once for the bishop, once for your parents, and once for a teacher.  As a Monday child, I also had a small statue of a tiger at my feet which got the same treatment.  The cooling effect of the water splashing on my feet was fantastic.  I could have done this all day.  And it began to look like I would … as Tin asked me the birth days of my parents and siblings (he had a book to look up the days).  We visited each appropriate shine and watered them all.  Thankfully, after 4, he gave up.  They obviously can’t cope with large families.

He then showed me a Buddha with LED lights incorporated into the gold shrine.  Also, Buddha’s footprint. And 4 divas(?) representing East, West, South and North.  I had to have my picture taken with them all several times – for each member of the family.  Next time, I’m saying I’m an only child.

Did I mention that the entire surface of this pagoda is made of heat reflecting tiles.  They stole my shoes at the entrance and now expect me to literally burn the soles of my feet whilst contemplating Buddha’s work.  What kind of religion is this?  The Catholics would have had some place selling you feet shaped ice packs.

He wrote out “horoscopes” for my family members listing their planet, animal, good direction, lucky number, amulet and sleeping bed head direction.  Quite specific.  Thankfully my parents had the same bed direction, or that could have proved tricky.  Now I’ve just got to make sure the bed faces west.  As we walked away, the burning surface of the tiles got the better of me, and a water patch and my big toe had a disagreement as to direction, leaving my toe the worse off.  It hurts!

Another large Buddha showed Knowledge and Awareness – the example he gave where these traits were necessary was crossing the road.  Having seen the traffic in Yangon, I get his point.  It also applies to walking on hot tiles.  I discovered that the pathway tiles were not so reflective, but keeping up with Tin required not using the pathways.

Whilst I was almost Googling for an ambulance, he finally found some shade – admittedly in the middle of a building site – but at least it was cool.  The feet were now black.

He showed me a WWII tank track left over by the British.  It was in the shade, so I was genuinely interested.  Also a few statues of Buddha standing under a tree (he was a smart guy!) and passing on his wisdom to a former king and some monks.

Last on the list of the pagoda tour was a trip to the turtle pool.  Lots of the blighters not doing much.  Cute though.  And cool.

Tin and I parted ways, having insisted that in Buddhism he would normally get [– insert double the amount I gave him –].  I caved in.  He had been very good.  But it cost more than a meal!

Retreiving my shoes, I briefly wandered down the waterfront – almost as nice as Dundee’s! – until the thundering trucks from the industrial port made me change my mind.  I found the main post office, British Embassy and the Strand Hotel – 12 blocks down.  By this point, with 38 blocks to go, I found a taxi and appreciated the speedy return to the hotel for a shower and freshen up.  Sun tan started.  Sweating in cold rooms commenced.

At 5pm we met the Explore group in the hotel foyer.  As well as the tour guide, known as George, the group now consists of [John, Gail, Ethna, Tom], [Karen, John], [Graham, Claire, Rosemary], Cassandra, Julia, Manny, Albery (?) and me.

George managed to pad a 20 minute intro into a 50 minute marathon.  At least 3 people nodded off.  But they all had partners who were doing the listening anyway.  Considering that some of them were just off a plane, I think they did very well!

We then almost all headed to a local restaurant for dinner.  Missing the “Class” restaurant, we headed to a greasy spoon across the road.  Food was cheap and cheerful, with picture menus.  Not the best so far.  I did manage a Yangon speciality – hot and spicy noodles with chicken (easy on the spicy).  The prawn and pork that came with it were obvious extras.  And a banana smoothie.  Karen had travelled extensively and had brought John along for the first time in their 7 months of dating.  He was staggered to hear that the only hotel pool was several days away and that he wouldn’t see a beach for weeks.  He also doesn’t like rice.  Karen must be really special!  Great couple though!

Making my excuses early, I headed back to the hotel and starting preparing for the early start tomorrow.

I saying preparing, but that did include Haribo …

(WiFi not liking photos, so they may be added later)

 

Days 0 & 1 – Travelling, Sleeping & Rugby

Must start with a special thanks to my brother-in-law (and sister) who are currently car sitting for me.  In return for a couple of weeks of Prius showroom display quality in their drive, they also got the pleasure of dropping me off at the airport.

Glasgow airport seems to go on forever!  Managed a lunch at elevenses time.  My stomach isn’t going to like me today.  A mostly uneventful Emirates flight to Dubai (DXB) happened smoothly.  Very nice plane.  Plenty space, lots of films on offer, and an individual socket to charge my phone.  Not only that but they give you free WiFi – well 10Mb or 2 hours, whichever comes first.  I can tell you that a smartphone gets through 10Mb in far less than 2 hours – about 10 minutes actually.  Despite being Scottish, I paid the $1.00 fee to get a further 500Mb for the rest of the flight.  At least I hope that was the cost.

The air stewardess did manage to drop water and ice (not destined for me) all over me.  After many cloths and an apology, the next one asked me if I wanted a drink.  “Water, with ice please.  In a glass”. Was met with a large smile.

Chicken Curry tastes better at 35000 feet

Can you guess which one I attached to my seat?

A fantastic chicken curry kept me going through three films – Fences, A Street Cat Named Bob and 95% of Jackie (JFK’s wife, not the the DC’s magazine). Despite not landing for another 30 minutes, and with only 7 minutes of Jackie left, they whipped the headphones away. (It’s OK, don’t panic, I finished it on the tarmac whilst waiting for the second flight to Yangon to take off!)

Dubai Airport – a haven of British tourists!

Chicken Deluxe!

Arrived in Dubai to a “remote landing strip”.  The bus to take us to the terminal should have been another plane!  As a DXB first timer, it was a pleasantly sized terminal.  Gate B22 was very close to a McD’s, and I sampled my second of the year.  A very nice employee took time to describe the differences from the UK menu to me.

Confusingly the next flight was going to both Yangon, Myanmar and Hanoi, Vietnam.  I wondered if, like trains, you had to sit in a certain section to get to the correct destination, but it thankfully turned out that everyone was going to Yangon first.  The couple next to me were French with early signs of Alzheimers disease.  No seriously, they were.  Filling in the landing forms (in English) turned into a real problem for them, but they were travelling in a large group, and several passes of the bits of paper, up and down the plane, got the whole group through the process.

Managed to watch the Pierce Brosnan film “I.T.” – from another script writer who obviously only uses a manual typewriter. Also stuck on “The Producers (1967)” and missed the middle section due to visiting sandman issues.  I did wake up to the sight (near the end of the film) of a large number of folks singing “Springtime for Hitler”, whilst dancing about in Nazi uniforms.  I could literally feel the tension from the French folks sitting next to me.  Someone will have to tell me how it ends.

Before we landed (only a few minutes late), breakfast of noodles, chilli sauce and chicken was served (in those relatively decreasing quantities).  The chicken was not immediately visible.  Should have gone for the scrambled egg – at least that’s guaranteed chicken content.

Some dangerous building practices?

Spot the currency exchange without any money.

Very modern airport in Yangon, the former capital of Myanmar, but there were some further building works taking place.

At passport control, with only two queues out of 20 for “Foreigners” – defined as not Myanmar citizens (8 desks) and not ASEAN (South East Asia) citizens (another 8 desks) – we were a very long queue.  Thankfully someone had employed someone with a brain, and we were quickly shuttled into other queues.  No problems, and no speaking required, during the process of being admitted to the country.  They took my picture.  That’ll be another one for the CIA to track me.

Walking straight past the “customs” desk, where a dis-interested man collected our forms, we met our transfer driver.  Ethna (pronounced Etna) was the first of the Explore group I met – she was travelling with Gail and John who were strangely whisked away in a different transfer.  We waited for Cassandra, the third person on his list.  And waited.  And waited.  After many phone calls, we gave up.  Did manage to change some money – the first place would only change if I wanted US$5 worth.  Very strange for a currency exchange company – they had no money.  Even in this country, I don’t think that’ll get me far.  The booth next door was much more helpful and gave me enough notes to start a small campfire.  1000 = 60p.  Must remember.

Stepping outside the airport terminal and the heat hit instantly.  Only 34°C, or so.  Our driver tried to introduce some phrases to us, but when asked any other question, the answer was always “10 miles” – apparently the distance from the airport to the hotel.  A short (30 mins?) ride in a minibus , with a free bottle of boiling water, took us to the Panda Hotel where we were met which a much more refreshing welcome drink (and a WiFI password!).

Checked in, tipped the bell boy, washed the travel off and collapsed on the bed (having made sure the air con was on and working).  6 hours later and I awoke to remember that it was time for the England v Scotland 6 Nations rugby game, and that my stomach was now wanting food.  Devices charged, using one of the available wide assortment of electrical sockets, I ventured out to the Fat Ox in a taxi.

Any plug should fit!

The Fat Ox

The Fat Ox was the only “British / Scottish” bar according to Google /Facebook.  As it turns out, it had recently been taken over by English owners.  Getting there was easy – the hotel offered to get me a taxi, and a woman for my room.  I only took them up on the former.  Ah, the dangers/pleasures of travelling solo.  For £1.80, I got a 15 minute taxi ride through the streets of Yangon.  Floodlit billboards, but not a lot of neon.  Overall, very dark and quiet.  The driver had to ask for directions to the place, but I used Google Maps to assure him that he was at the correct location.  Only a discrete LED sign advertising the 6 Nations showed the location, and on entering, it did indeed remind me of ever other pub that I’ve ever been in, pre smoking ban.  France were busy humping Italy quietly in the corner.  So I ordered a mutton curry and pulled up a stool.

6 Nations Rugby on the big screen

Myanmar Mutton Curry

Rum Sour

A local Myanmar lager was pleasantly chilled and, unusually, I could indeed have drunk many of those.  An older couple from London – Gerry and his Malaysian wife – pulled up a chair beside me, and she was obviously rugby mad.  “Come on Scotland”, was all I could muster, as she started briefing me on the English team selection.

The mutton curry was delicious – just pleasantly spiced and not too hot.  I checked that it was sheep and not goat, as it is common to be described as mutton here.

After a short while, Chris, Briggsy, staggered in – he’d been in the 50th street pub to watch the previous game.  He was obviously a regular, and throughout the match we chatted about all things British, Scottish, Army and Brexit.  He was originally an army officer – the Ghurkas! – but had spent many an hour defending his squaddies in a Paisley court after they had been accused of slashing folks.  He was currently working as the country manager for a Dubai company, doing – as the other locals said – not very much.  He reckons that without heavy industry, the only sales opportunity here is for consumer white goods!  As a regular, he had his own bottle of Bombay Sapphire behind the bar (with his name on it) – cheaper than individual drinks!  Every so often, the loud cry went up, “more tonic please!”

John, the bar manager in an English Rugby shirt, interrupted the gentle click of pool table balls to introduce himself.  Dave, one of the 4 owners also waltzed in occassionally.  Everyone was very friendly – even the drunk English guy who had just moved there last week.  John and Dave had words with him regarding his apparently obnoxious shouting and pointing.  Nothing that everyone in The Glens wouldn’t expect as a regular occurrence. Not here though.  Quiet and civilised was all that was tolerated.  Very English.

Didn’t actually see too much of the game, as the Briggsy conversation was very interesting.  The 4 rum sours – apparently very traditional – also helped to transfer my attention.  However, I believe we got humped 61-21.  Enough about that.

I escaped at the final whistle to find that at 12:45am, the only things on the streets were dogs and taxi drivers.  The second taxi driver got the idea that I was setting the price, not him, when I walked away.  We agreed on the same price as the outward journey, and I was quickly whisked through the deserted streets to the hotel, avoiding as many dogs as possible.  Am now doubting the definition of “mutton” again.

Almost as bad as smoking in the hotel lift – No Durian fruit!

A free day tomorrow, until I meet the Explore group at 5pm, so with a few Briggsy suggestions under my belt, I think I’ll manage a visit to the House of Memories.

However, tomorrow is another rum sour …

Preparing for Myanmar (or Burma?)

Packing the night before for another trip felt strange.  Just t-shirts and shorts.  No coats and only one jumper.  Plenty of sun cream and moisturisers.  Umbrella?  Just to be safe – not anticipated to be used at all.  So why does it still fill the bag?  The temperature is set to change from 7°C to 37°C (feels like 44°C!).  Medicine box updated – hopefully not required.

Updated all the tech before setting off, which included charging the old Kindle, just in case the laptop gives up the battery.  Nothing ever seems to retire, but everything needs updated.  Dropbox  files updated on all devices, but the paperwork is also in the bag – just in case!  A quick browse of the hotels in Myanmar shows that WiFi is mostly available, but the reviews show it to be slow.  Don’t expect a lot of photos in the blog.

Hopefully you will follow along.

 

Day 16 – Groupless in Baku

Tried to get as much sleep as possible before having to check out of the room.  This didn’t quite work out as planned. The body clock seems to have finally adjusted to Max’s relentless early starts,  just as I need to readjust.

Surprisingly however, I found Caroline and Carolyn both still in the breakfast room at 10:20am. William was being water boarded at a local Hamam (men only baths), whilst George and Amanda were promenading. The conversation over breakfast (toast again, but with Nutella this time) turned to Asian style toilets, and pooping in the undergrowth. Did I mention it was a Nutella day?

Packing proved easier than I thought it would be, with barely a squeeze required, although I’ve broken one of the fragile items already.  Managed a final SS&S before hovering up the remaining food and drink fragments – mostly guava compote.

Met the group downstairs, just to make sure they were actually leaving, and received a very nice lavender farm calendar from Caroline.  She also tried to pass off the remaining marijuana seeds, but we all wisely refused to touch them! Just in case.

Carolyn and I waved goodbye as they drove of with Balash in the minibus for their Aeroflot flight via Moscow to London.

I then wished Carolyn all the best on her midnight train to Georgia (well 8:30pm, but it sounds better) and invited her to sample the cold wet rain of Scotland anytime.  Somehow I don’t think it’s high on her list!

Left luggage seemed simple and I tried to grimace only slightly when the hotel reception confirmed my taxi booking for “23:45pm”.

Into town without a real plan. Wasn’t at all tempted by the first McD’s or the KFC and ended up outside the Maiden Tower.

I was merely admiring the hats when Elrich (sp?) the souvenir shop owner accosted me.  We ended up deep in conversation about Scotland and the price of houses in Aberdeen which his friend Maurice (from BP?) had shown him. I say “conversation”. I could barely get a word in edgeways. And he was a very fast talker in broken English.  By the end of 45 minutes, with no sign he was stopping, I had no option but to buy something from him. Amazing, he actually had postcards.  It’s only taken 16 days to find these things!

So because of the extra unanticipated spend,  my depleted manats and my insatiable desire to see yet another carpet museum, I queued for 30 minutes to change some dollars into manats.

I was unable to walk across the road to the carpet museum, as I was informed by a local that I should use the marbled underpass or face a fine of $30.

To add to the insult, when I got there the carpet museum had free entry today!

All that happened after getting caught in the paths and bridges of Mini Venice.

No photos allowed in the museum and I checked my camera into a locker. Despite the clear no camera phone signs, people were happily snapping away in front of the staff, so I joined in. After 45 minutes of all varieties of carpet, including donkey bags, my insatiable desire was fully satisfied.

Ice cream and a boulevard walk followed.

This post will not be continued, as I was too busy exploring and then travelling home to remember!  Ah well! Until the next trip …

Day 15 – Baku, Azerbaijan

What a busy day.

Started off with a last minute rush from breakfast to bus. Don’t want to waste any valuable sleeping time. Toast again.

Our new bus captain took us uphill to the new symbol of Baku – the three Flame Towers. These are glass covered skyscrapers in the shape of flames. Window cleaners were busy working on trolleys and one unlucky chap had abseiled from the very top. Not on your nelly.

Our guide, Balash, took us past the new parliament building to Martyr’s Lane where he told us of the Azeri Major General who led the Soviet troops to victory in the Battle of Stalingrad (WW2). Azerbaijan seems to have been the subject of many takeovers, from the Persians to the Russians and has only recently reasserted itself as an independent country.

More recent headstones with pictures commemorated the 19 year olds who lost their lives in the 1991/92 struggle for independence.

Balash told the story of the capture of an important German general and the suggestion to swap him for Stalin’s own son. This was refused by Stalin as he would not swap a low ranking soldier for a general – “all his soldiers were his children!”

He also told the story of Hitler’s 1940 birthday cake in the shape of Europe. Hitler cut himself a piece containing Baku, as it was all he wanted – access to the oil of the Caspian Sea. Azerbaijan was providing 80% of the Soviet oil during WW2. Hitler ordered his bomber pilots to avoid Baku as he wanted it intact.

Also in this area was a stone to commemorate the British soldiers who died 1918-19, including two Scots from the Seaforth and Cameron Highlanders.

I managed to snap a cuckoo thanks to the keen eyesight of the birders. Bit bigger than a pigeon – who knew?

Up on top of the hill provided great views of Baku and we then started our descent down a long flight of stairs. These were being used by young wrestlers in training. Up and down and up and down. Apparently it’s called exercise.

Moving on to the Old City, we had a demonstration from Balash of archery through the narrow slits of the city walls and how to pour boiling oil on your enemies. If there was further resistance, a full size catapult was also present. This may cause a few problems if used during the forthcoming F1 Grand Prix. The city walls have been recently restored to their almond coloured limestone brilliance.

Nearby was the chess school attended by Gary Kasparov and several other chess grand masters.

We headed into the Shirvanshah’s Palace Complex. The walls were marked with gun shot holes from the Armenian genocide carried out in 1918.

We strolled around the various parts of the complex – Tomb of the Shah, residential building & throne room. They made good use of modern technology to recreate the missing bits. The ceramic tiles were stripped from the walls and transported to St Petersburg. In their place a projected image gave a feel for what it would have looked like.

One of the more interesting exhibits were the mustache trainer and keeper which were used to keep a mustache in shape during sleeping.

We also stopped off at tombs of the chief scientist, a mosque, a bath house and the family tomb. The pistachio tree in a courtyard was also of interest.

We found the studio and workshop of Ali Shamsi, a famous artist with a show in London next week. Wouldn’t rush to buy any of his stuff but it was interesting to see the bare foot artist in person. He was happy to do autographs.

Lunch was open air and consisted of a new dish – khingal – which was pasta, oil and minced lamb with yoghurt and pourable “cow” cheese. Much more delicious than it sounds. Also tried Qutabs – thin pancakes with meat filling.

Had to try on a few hats as we moved through the old city. The sign next to the wooden pomegranate ornaments apparently said “don’t touch”. Ah well. Passed many souvenir shops, including one selling flying carpets!

We arrived at the Maiden Tower – no agreement on why it’s called this, how old it is, or even what it was used for. However the 8 floors had some interesting exhibits, even if the top had disappointing views and a large crowd of young school children. When the building was restored they had to move out swifts that were nesting there. By all accounts more effort was put into this than strictly necessary with international ornithologists drafted in to sing sweetly at them in a new area, and shout loudly at the tower. Or something like that.

After a quick visit to the bank by Max on our behalf, we drove to the Heydar Aliyev Center, designed by Zaha Hadid, in the shape of Marilyn Munro’s dress. Only slightly spoiled by the multicoloured teletubby animals on the lawn outside.

Inside was worryingly how I imagine the new Dundee V&A to be. Lots of space, few exhibits. More hats, carpets, musical instruments and national dress are joined by models of all the new buildings in Azerbaijan.

The last tourist stop was to Atashgah Temple for Zoroastrianism fire worship. Several dodgy mannekins stared back at me. Need to do some more reading, although Balash did a great job with his tablet photos, presenting the important information. And video of Hitler cutting his birthday cake.

We managed to tear ourselves away from the fire photos and stopped off at the railway station to show Carolyn where she would be catching her 13 hour train to Georgia tomorrow.

After a brief clean up in the hotel, we headed back to Fountain Square, this time with fountains, for our final group meal.

Managed to take my signature flag photo with all three flags, although Max has a definite photo phobia.

The menu consisted of a 135 page menu, with each page featuring an exact photo of one dish. The Khan kebab seemed to consist of liver kebabs, with a pomegranate sauce and chips. Max even splashed out on desert and coffee for the first time. Chocolate tea was available, to a mixed reception.

George did his very best to sum up the trip and remind us of all we have done, whilst thanking Max for his hard work and passing on his tip. I was officially upgraded to apprentice farmer and offered a summer placement in Dorset. I suspect that may involve some back breaking work.

On the way back we stopped off at a local supermarket for some pomegranate sauce and emptied the place of it all. Baxter’s soup also available for £4.30 a can!

Fantastic day. Fantastic country. Fantastic trip. Fantastic group!