Journey Around the Balkans – Montenegro

Leaving Edinburgh on 22nd September and flying SleazyJet to Dubrovnik, Croatia, I was met by my chauffeur and whisked immediately to the border with Montenegro where the 12 cars in front of us caused a 50 minute queue. #FutureBrexitProblems.

Met the tour guide in the hotel and was surprised to find that I was the only one that had arrived – a first for me! Wandered for 25 minutes into the neighbouring fortified town of Kotor to explore the lower part, buy some souvenirs and eat! They like their cats. They are everywhere.

The following day, the rest of the group (17 in all) had arrived and we met after breakfast for a standard briefing with our guide – Misa (Misha). The itinerary for the day was mostly about climbing. Walking back to Kotor, we started up some steps to the Kotor fortress with some amazing views back over the red roofs and tall Cyprus trees to the Bay of Kotor – a secluded T-shaped piece of water that still manages to fit a cruise ship or three in.

Some Bulgarians had encouraged some Merkins and others to dance on the top of the fortress.  Meanwhile, the rest of us were just trying to escape the 28°C heat! Descending, we crawled through a hole in the wall (likely not there when they were defending the town from the Ottomans) and headed down a short cliff to a church, and then zig-zagged down the path to the waterfront.

After a quick stop for lunch of squid stuffed with rice and squid, I managed an ice cream before meeting the group for an afternoon boat trip in the Bay of Kotor. The boat included the other Explore group and bounced around a bit, comically soaking some of us, but also damaging a camera of the other group.

After a couple of hours of bouncing around, we passed the natural island of St George, with a monastery on it. The island next door was called “Our Lady of the Rocks”. Every 22nd July the locals have puts rocks in their boats, sailed out and dropped them in the water to create the island. It has a Catholic church as the only building apart from the toilets. Tours of the church were conducted in hushed tones whilst a very officious woman controlled entry and ushered us on. Silver plates that had been donated to request prayers for things mostly featured boats. At least one person obviously wanted their legs included in a prayer though.

The short journey to Perast – not Paris, although the two are easily confused – allowed us to browse more churches, towers, ice cream shops and semi naked locals trying to catch a few rays away from the tourists, by planting their speedos in all the photos. The place only has a population of 350, but there are 21 churches! Outside of each, are tablecloth sales folk who were having a hard time persuading anyone of the need for their wares.

As the sun started setting behind the steep black mountain that gives Montenegro its name, we headed back to Dobrota and our hotel. An uneventful group meal followed (dodged the Scottish Indy questions), but the gruesome threesome found a pub within staggering distance from the hotel. Despite the lights being off, we persuaded the bar staff to pour a few rakija (the local spirit). Tried the Quince and the Apricot flavours – both nice. Apparently you supposed to sip them! Ah well.

The following day, the group piled into a yellow minibus fully filling all 18 seats. This was to be our home from crushed home for a while. We followed the road to Budva (no relation to the similar sounding drink) which is on the Montenegran “Riviera”. Not many took up the option to swim, when they saw the the narrow “sandy” beach fully of small pebbles. To get there, we were dropped at the local dogging area and had to walk through the most unattractive part of town, past a mini Eiffel tower. The marina was full of boats of varying sizes, some gin palaces and some that might struggle to fit a couple in.

Budva old town was demolished by an earthquake in 1979 and rebuilt over the next 10 years. It maintains its quaint alleyways and tourist based shops whilst having overly clean stone that makes it looks almost modern. A quick trip to the citadel provided a chance for €3.50 to make its way into the local economy for no particular reason. There were great views, but the overly frilly library tablecloths required a sharp exit. The small “old ship collection” of small ships was the high point of the visit.  Mostly because it was near the top of the citadel. The strains of Abba have been heard most places, but this town could have doubled as the film set for Mamma Mia.

After more ice cream, we rejoined the bus and headed for Sveti (Saint) Stefan, a posh hotel on an island (Novak Djokovic got married there!) It was connected to the mainland by a small causeway, but us riff raff weren’t allowed anywhere near.

We continued on the coast road to Virpazar, passing through tunnels and being regaled by tales of motorway construction from our tour leader. His mobile phone also has the loudest bike bell notification sound in the world. I mention this only because the motorway stories sent the bus to sleep and his popularity kept waking us up.

Arriving at the hotel, we discovered that every room had a balcony that was larger than the actual room itself. They were also arranged such that we could have a group meeting without too much effort. We headed to the pekara (bakery) that was recommended by our guide, only to discover that despite the sign, the tourist information office that now occupied the building did not serve lunches. We settled on the pub next door instead. Good choice for much cheapness and chicken stuffed with ham and cheese. I’m getting the feeling that they will stuff anything with anything. The cats were nervous.

After a short trip to the supermarket to stock up on supplies, the group boarded a boat and settled in below. As we headed out onto Lake Skadar, the captain descended to baton down the plastic windows, blocking our photography. He snorted somewhat when I asked him to leave one open, not quite understanding. Egg on my face, however, as the “storm” waves rushed over the bow and the waterproofs were donned by everyone else. I did contemplate a jumper. Thankfully, the two large trays of cakes we bought in the supermarket earlier were in waterproof containers and managed to be shared out amongst the group. I had more than my fair share. #DietFail.

We had been hoping to spot the Dalmatian Pelican (aka the white pelican), but the closest I got was the picture on the wall. The boat headed away from Albania and towards the smaller part of the lake. If we had been able to see it through the rain, I’m sure it would have been spectacular. I did spot some cormorants and coots though. The sky cleared on the way back and some spectacular scenery was eventually to be had.

Back on dry land, we were left to our own devices for the evening meal, but the majority headed out to the restaurant owned by the boat captain and we descended, past the toilets, to a lovely cosy wine cellar with eclectic stylings. There were just about enough seats, although we got the children’s table height-wise. Ordering first, we were almost finished the meal before the other two tables had even got their drinks. The waiter did have a small crisis with a tray containing red wine and beer, but he missed everything except the floor. A very nice schnitzel and some red wine later, and we were tempted into some free rakija. Apparently, you are still supposed to sip it. Not content with the great banter of the waiter and owner, the majority of the group headed back to the lunchtime pub for a few drinks, only to discover that our guide was staying there. We made it back to the hotel safely.

Leaving the hotel the next morning, I befriended a rather cute dog. Would have been an odd souvenir but I could have taken him home to fatten up. We drove to a viewpoint on the top of the nearest hill for some last fabulous views of Skadar lake and Virpazar. The road was very steep and the cows using it were not used to a minibus getting in their way.

We came back down to head north into the mountains of Montenegro, skirting the capital of Podgorica, and heading to our next stop – Moraca Monastery. We did pass the construction that Misa had mentioned for the new motorway, with a rather spectacular viaduct being constructed.

The landscape changed dramatically, with towering cliffs overlooking river gorges that only increased in size as we headed further north. Not quite sure why they put solar panels on the shady side of the road tunnels, but we had total confidence in our driver overtaking in the pitch black without being able to see the road ahead. The views were spectacular and no photo can do them justice.

The monastery itself was surrounded by accommodation and ancillary buildings. Large courgettes hung from trellis and young kittens sleepily basked in the sunshine. A water spray kept the vegetables happy in the garden and a large stone monument commemorated the dead of three wars – 1875-1880, 1912-1918 and 1941-1945. Old men in long flowing black cassocks hobbled around the grounds. It was a scene of perfect serenity. Then we turned up.

Inside the church itself, the Serbian Orthodox setup was pretty normal, with an iconostasis at one end and various blue frescoes on the walls. Not overly impressive, but well preserved/restored.

Moving on, we stopped for lunch at a restaurant, as we’d decided as a group not to accept supermarket shopping for a picnic (the choice wasn’t great!) Unfortunately, the choice at the restaurant was even poorer. I had a ham sandwich, which consisted of two large chunks of dry bread and some overly smoked ham. Thankfully, I’d had the common sense to order chips as well. Following that I stretched my legs downhill to the fish pond which they were raising money to create/restore. They hadn’t quite got enough for the fish yet. Or a pond cleaner. Or grass.

I rushed back to the bus, panting from the uphill run, to discover that I was indeed last back. An event that will not be repeated.

Following the Tara river, we reached a bridge that was built in the 1930’s, and then blown up to prevent the Nazis advancing in the 1940’s. One of the men who helped build it was also responsible for blowing it up. His statue was erected as a reminder of events. The bridge is 170m above the water, giving plenty opportunity for the two ziplines that operate from each side of the canyon. Lots of other activities on offer, but no time to do any of them unfortunately.

Arriving at our hotel in Zabljak, we had time to appreciate the spacious rooms, large cloakroom and tiny bathrooms – most with a glass sink where the taps were hidden below and the door had to be carefully squeezed past the basin. We changed into winter gear and headed out into the Durmitor National Park to walk around the Black Lake and its smaller sibling. The path started off well, but degenerated into a rather uneven stoney affair.

We stopped briefly at Tito’s cave, where he spent 9 days in 1943 sheltering from the people trying to kill him – there were a lot of them. Misa gave us the 10 minute talk on the background to the most recent Balkan political issues, dating back over 100 years. It didn’t all sink it, but basically Tito was a communist who did a lot of good, and the people look back on him mostly fondly. The Serbian King fled to London during WWII and his son, the prince didn’t even know the language when he was due to return. Tito took the opportunity and declared a republic (after an election). Tito died in 1980 and things slowly went to pot following that, culminating in the Balkan wars in the 1990’s. Bosnia still has issues. Serbia and Kosovo have issues. Basically it’s all likely to blow up again soon. People have long memories and past issues and current borders don’t really help.

As the sky grew darker, the black lake really took on its name. The road back was a touch chilly and we were all glad that the minibus came to pick us up, despite only being five minutes from the hotel.

We did venture out again for food and took the shortcut across the darkest path in the world. The restaurant offered “traditional” food, which I was suckered into accepting. Durmitor Steak – rolled steak stuffed with ham and cheese. Thankfully, I hadn’t ordered the burger, which was a large slab of mince that had been stood on by an elephant, with nothing else!

My upset at having the pancake order cancelled by the tour guide was tempered by the arrival of a birthday cake for one of the group, completed with rocket candle. A nice treat and probably better than pancakes! The entire group were offered grape rakija, but with some refusing it, I ended up with two.  Must remember to try only sipping it the next time.

Overnight, the hotel heating was well used, with temperatures sinking to -5°C. As we drove off in the morning, snow was spotted on one of the village roofs. We were at 1450m.

Petrol Station best buys

Petrol Station best buys

The following morning we headed off back to the Tara bridge, and turned north towards Serbia. After a petrol station stop, the border post was not long in coming, and we crossed the border in less than 25 minutes. The long queues of trucks, however… #FutureBrexitIssues

Overall, Montenegro has been a most unexpected country for me. Full of stunning birthdascenery, nice people and lots of nature opportunities. I didn’t expect to like it so much, but I did. Not really one for the beach though! Am surprised how little industrial agriculture there appeared to be. With a country of only 700,000 people, they do import a lot – even the well known prosciutto makers import their pigs. Would be more than happy to return!

Day 12 – Mons, Monks & Monkeys

For some reason, my mind thought that 5:30am was a good time to wake up … two days in a row, does not make a pattern.  As the real start was due at 8:00am, this meant plenty of time for breakfast!  The made to order waffles and honey were fantastic, and went nicely with the bacon and toast.  I couldn’t get more un-Burmese than that!

The view from OK Kyaung

We headed first to the temple of Ok Kyaung, which afforded spectacular views of a large number of other stupas and temples, after climbing only a short flight of stairs.  George’s “cousin” from yesterday was nowhere to be seen, but plenty of others had filled her spot.  I started a photo taking competition (starring me and some bricks) in which Karen, Albery and Ethna all took part.  Results will be announced later.

A short hop to the Dhamma Ya Zi Ka Pagoda, which stood in front, saw us do the now traditional clockwise tour of the outside.  This one had a large golden dome, shrouded in bamboo scaffolding, and lots of smaller golden stupas sitting on strikingly red bricks.  Instead of having the traditional 4 Buddhas, this one had space for 5 – in preparation for the coming of the next Buddha – due in about 2,600 years time. (Every 5000 years – the last Buddha was born in 600BC).  Now that’s future planning!  Also around here were a camera crew and a French presenter practicing her English speech.  That doesn’t sound like a great combination.  And it wasn’t.  Inside, next to yet another Buddha shrine, was a glass object bejewelled with rubies and sapphires, which would normally shine at the very top of a pagoda.

Lacquerware making

Crushing the plums

Cats sleep anywhere

Spinning the cotton

We moved on to the local village of West Pwazaw and met with the former village chief who was obviously a wealthy farmer.  He employed 8 people and seemed to enjoy not having to do much himself!  They farmed sour plums and we witnessed how they crushed and separated the kernels which are then sold to the Chinese for £6/kilo for unknown reasons – they really don’t know what they do with them!  They also grow peanuts, sesame, beans, pumpkin, corn and cotton.  There was a demonstration of how to spin the cotton into yarn, and of course an opportunity to purchase the final product.  Despite the rest of the village owning enough cows to keep Tesco in beef burgers for months, this family only owned two cows – because they also owned a tractor!  With 5 children, 2 sons were still at home, two daughters are nurses (one still in the village) and the fifth was obviously not important (or I didn’t listen).   Lacquerware production was also on show.  It’s made from bamboo, horsehair and the sap of the lacquer tree.  I wondered why all the horses had short hair.  Funnily enough, it’s “lucky” to buy two, rather than one.

After being offered some rather tasteless tea (or maybe it was just my cold), we walked around the village – highlights included a man painting a wall without moving the bricks in his way, or indeed, finishing building the wall; a pen full of goats who wanted to like my hand – little do they know what I have in store for their friends on Saturday; a woman with the largest cigar on the planet; and a man who made bamboo cages that confuddle George – apparently they were rubbish bins.  We saw bamboo being split, some friendly cows and a cactus hedge.

Thatbyinnyu Temple

Nanpaya Temple

Leaving the village behind, we attempted to document any remaining stupas that we’d not yet seen.  This started with the tallest (Thatbyinnyu Temple) and then Nanpaya Temple – with a very hot tiled floor outside, I was back to doing the Burmese Waltz across the ground in bare feet.  They should at least have a bucket of water on standby, if not a full first aid team. Inside were four columns with intricate Hindu inspired carvings and a missing Buddha on the raised middle platform.  This is different from most temples, in that they normally have four Buddhas facing every direction.

Outside the temple were some ogres and haspa (sp?) “curvings” (sic), as well as a good assortment of children trying to flog some postcards.  “Very nice, but I don’t need any” was a standard John2 response.  They’ve got to try refining their technique, as the bargaining reached $1million at one point.

In the next door temple, we had four large Buddhas, who looked like they had forgotten the dimensions of the building they were in.  As a result of their size, they look down on the visitors, apparently in reference to the sorrow of the king and queen that had them built.  Saving on the traders here, they had a large gold pot where you could just throw your money away.  Unfortunately, I was suckered in on the way out – another sand painting bought!

Back at the hotel, I had a chance to freshen up and eat (chicken and cheeseburger and fries) before heading off to Mount Popa with Tom and John.  We ducked the Explore version for a local taxi (saving $17 each!).  The journey took an hour, but it completed all possible methods of transport during this trip.  And it had working air con!

Not the real Mount Popa

On arrival at Mount Popa we faced a 777 step covered climb – 1/3 in shoes, and 2/3 in bare feet.  The steps were full of local tourists and macaques (monkeys).  Fortunately the tourists had been toilet trained.  The macaques had not.  The monkeys were scavengers and would happily grab any food from your hand.   They also didn’t respect the Buddhas.  A team of cleaners managed to mostly keep the tiled steps clean and a group were feeding the monkeys at the bottom to try and encourage them to stay there, rather than pester tourists all the way up.  This didn’t work.  There were two sections of steep metal steps which had obviously been frequented by the monkeys more than the cleaners.  Razor wire was used to try to keep the monkeys away from key areas, but they didn’t seem bothered with it at all, using it to climb up and through.

At the top, it was a bit confusing, as there was a collection of shrines, no open space, lots of plaques and lots of people.  We worked our way around, admiring the views from all sides and were asked to star in a few photos by a monk.  We then persuaded a monk to take part in the photos as well.  Fair’s fair.  Anyone can sponsor anything for any reason – a few restaurants had plaques – from Beijing and San Francisco!

Viewing the real Mount Popa

An umbrella

Plaques everywhere.

As a side note, we didn’t actually climb Mount Popa, but the rocky outcrop, half its height, officially called Popa Taung Kalat.  But known to the casual tourist as Mount Popa.

Monks slapping monkeys

Descending and using all the available wet wipes to clean the monkey pee and monkey poo off our feet, we rejoined the taxi driver for the trip back to the hotel in Bagan.  My Pringles and Haribo were cracked open and eagerly finished off by traveller Tom.  I may have helped a bit.  The road back had some roadworks, the men making the tar and the women carrying it to the road for it to be applied by hand by more men.  Time consuming work!  In the middle of nowhere, we also ran the gauntlet of some people, mostly young, begging along the road.  They did this by trying to run in front of the cars to get them to slow down.  We sped up.

After dressing for dinner (well everyone else did – I put clean socks on), we met in the hotel foyer and the group flag photo was done.  Hotel staff are better photo takers than I am!  Disappointed to find that I’d been sold a dirty flag though!  George seemed to have a problem knowing which way up it went!

For our final group meal, we headed to the Star Beam restaurant, and after the meal Graham led the group thanks with a speech he’d spent all afternoon preparing for.  George replied.  “Yes. Yes.”  I hadn’t appreciated this was his catchphrase until this moment.

Cassandra then led us on an ice cream hunt ending, very easily, with a peach and guava variety.  Delice. An early night as we all have planes to catch tomorrow – some of the group are heading to the beach extension option, and the rest of us have a couple of days in Yangon before our flight home.

Still plenty to come from me …

Day 8 – Around Mandalay

Breakfast this morning included pancakes, waffles, honey and a yoghurt.  Past trying of the local stuff!  We had been warned that the breakfast buffet might take us 45 minutes to navigate.  Quite a few of the group had given it a good go.

We joined our bus at 8:30am – a late start apparently! We started the long day with a drive south for about 4 miles to the Mahamuni Pagoda, which consisted of a large gong, a huge buddha hidden away in the middle of the complex and surrounded by lots of men (women forbidden!), and a bunch of young novices being inducted into buddhism.  The lippy was obviously not his first choice, but his father was very proud.  We followed the multi coloured procession around the pagoda, and easily blended with the professional photographers, bowls of fruit and coconuts.  Also on show were some large bronze figures – if ill you are supposed to rub the bit of the statue that corresponds to make it better.  A surprising number of stomach issues amongst the local population.  Graham also found it a bit difficult to read the English version explaining all about them.  In summary, nicked from Angor Wat in Cambodia in 1563, nicked by the Thais in 1598, returned in 1784.

Betel & lime

Sticky Rice cakes

Moving back through the throngs of market stalls, selling all sorts of golden buddhas, waving cats, and sticks of thanakha (it’s a tree – the stuff they use as sun/beauty cream), we reclaimed our shoes and socks and found a betel seller.  Using a betel leaf and some lime (the white stuff), she added tobacco some nuts and some other spices, rolled it up and gave it to Tom to chew.  He lasted slightly longer than I might have.  Cassandra was offered a sweet, mostly coconut flavoured version without the tobacco.  Not sure how that went down.  At another stall, I got some sticky rice cakes to taste.  No-one else seemed up for it.

Back on the bus, George’s insights into the strange ways of Myanmar continued.  This time he narrated the story of his cousin, who had to pay a fine for holding the hands of his girlfriend in public.  Woman are well protected in Myanmar!

Moving on, we headed to a marble stone sculptor, or two, or sixteen.  All focussed on carving buddha statues. Not so sure Buddha would have approved of this commercialisation of his image.  Further up the road, they had stone polishers, painters, gold leafers and those that would sell you the finished product for US$500 (not including freight delivery).

Next on the list of industries to visit were the wood carvers and tapestry makers.  With their toes millimetres away from the sharp chisels, the 5 toed workers showed their immense skill in the making of all sorts of decorative wooden objects.

Also today, we saw some more silk weaving, this time not just with shuttle looms, but with some very intricate hand weaving.  Some very colourful items for sale in the shop and I managed to succumb to a traditional longyi.  I’ll need to have some practice tying it!

Driving on, we caught a short ferry to an island in the middle of the Ayeyarwady River.  Short was indeed the key word there.  The only boat so far without life jackets, because you could basically reach the other side of the water with a long pole.  We arrived on the island of Ava (aka Inwa) to a reception from some overly keen woman with all sorts of bangles and trinkets.  We jumped on a pony and trap / horse and cart.  Albery jumped in the back of mine and I managed to sit next to the driver, with the hairiest mole on his neck – ever.  I think I may have been conversing with it, rather than the driver.

Driving around the island, where cars had never been, we saw an idyllic rural setting, with crops being cultivated in the fields and a large number of pagodas and stupas set amongst the rice paddies.

Stopping at the Bagaya Monastery, we had the chance to see the incredible 267 teak posts, some 60 feet high and 9 feet around.  Bare feet on hot teak is not a great feeling, especially when the metal nails are hotter still.  In one, rather noisy corner, a monk was presiding over the neighbourhood’s poor kids learning a religious text by repetition.  Unfortunately, lots of long lens Chinese cameras were inches away from their faces and the monk had to step in with a loud “No Photos!”  Quite right too.  The noise didn’t seem to be disturbing the bats clinging on to the roof.

Back in the horse and cart, I was now sitting on the back when a young boy jumped on board.  Think he was just looking for a free lift around the island – all the drivers are also farmers and take it in strict rotation to drive the tourists.  He was gone again in a flash.

Next stop was the watch tower – 90m high and rivalling the tower at Pisa due to an earthquake from 1838.  We eventually found the correct side to see the lean, and unsurprisingly it was not available to climb!  At every stop, people were selling stuff, but at this one, artwork was available.  Karen had her eye on a painting and initially bought it, but John persuaded her that another one was better, and I snapped it up.  Technically I had no money, as the currency exchangers were only open when we were touring, but they accepted an IOU until the following day.

Moving on, the last stop on the island was to the Maha Aung Mye Bom San Monastery, known as Me Nu Oak-Kyaung (brick monastery).  With a yellow and black mould exterior, it had a white(ish) cool interior filled with children and monk keen to point out anyone wearing shoes.  Name and shame – that’s the way to do it!  The neighbouring white and gold buildings looked like they had either been abandonded or recently restored.  There is at least a government department responsible for promoting the historical momuments, so, if they have the money, things can only get better!

Before leaving the island, we stopped off for lunch at the Small River (Ava) restaurant for some chicken balls.  A two minute walk to the jetty saw us watching the local laundrette woman bashing the clothes like it was her unfaithful husband.

Back on the mainland, we headed to a monastery containing 1000 monks.  We were met with lots of novices practising their sweeping skills, although they appeared to be sweeping things and never picking them up.  Teamwork is obviously module 2.  Clotheslines full of red robes drying lines the streets of the monastery.  Everyday, donors from all over the country donate food for all 1000 monks, and they can stay overnight within the grounds.  The kitchens and dining rooms were huge.  The largest pots and pans ever seen were used on 8 huge wood fired rings.  Barrow loads of vegetables, and warehouses full of rice were used.  There appeared to be one unlucky sod who was in charge of peeling the garlic.  The monks sit on a raised floor with low tables to eat.  If you want to be a donor of food there is currently a one YEAR wait, it’s that popular.

On a never ending day, we hadn’t yet finished until we visited the famous U Bein Bridge – the longest teak bridge in the world.  It was thronged with pedestrians making the 1.2km walk.  With some shaky boards and no handrails or other method to stop you plummeting to your death (or at least breaking a few bones), we gingerly crossed, trying not to get knocked off by the faster and the far more H&S reticent Burmese.  A flock of carnivorous ducks below were waiting for a culprit to descend.  Half way across, we descended to meet our boats.  The easiest £3 ever earned by the boatmen.  One lap under the bridge and back and then all the boats lined up to await the sunset.

In the meantime, the boatman over from us was showing off his bulge in his longyi.  A cloud of locust like creatures swarmed around us (still awaiting the frogs and the blood) and a dragonfly perched on our oar.  As the sun set, in a bit of haze, the camera filters were put to good use.  Heading back to the shore, the amateur oarsmen were apparent.  I’m surprised that some boats ever got back, with one going in circles.  The crossed oar action was indeed unique and needs more training!

Driving back to our hotel in Mandalay, we cleaned up and George offered a trip to a real local restaurant – Platinum.  Where “normal” is hot and “hot” requires hospital treatment.  Or 3.5l of lager, served at your table on tap. “Chicken feed” was on the menu.  We presume this was supposed to relate to the chicken feet in the fridge, although feed was probably more appetising.

Back in the hotel, dodging the alure of the neon and LED lit bars, I managed a late night trip to the hotel spa, before conking out on the bed.

The blog can wait …

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 …

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 …