We take a short flight north to the Inle Lake area from Yangon. It’s another 30 km taxi ride to reach the town of Nyaung Shwe, which will be our base while we explore the area. After settling into the hotel we spend some time getting our bearings by wandering around town. We cross the canal that ultimately leads to the lake. It is packed with the long boats that take locals as well as tourists to various points on and along the lake. Numerous boat drivers approach us clamoring for our business. After checking around town, asking around and confirming that there is rather a range of prices, we happen upon a widely smiling man who introduces himself as Moe Wine and he gives us a very fair deal and promises to pick us up at our hotel jetty early the next morning.
The morning is surprisingly cool, and a low thick fog hugs the town. We put on pretty much every layer we’ve brought and we’re off after a substantial breakfast. As the canal(about 1.5 km) opens into the wider lake, we catch our first glimpse of the famed fishermen, who appear to do a balancing dance on their boats with their large net baskets. It is a bit of lake poetry for which we slow down. They pose and wait for tips. The day continues with a stop at the floating gardens—these are tomato gardens, staked with bamboo onto floating islands which can rise when the lake water level rises during the rainy season. From here we enter the byways of the lake where stilted bamboo dwellings and resting stations for the farmers dot the lakescape. First stop for the day is the floating market which appears to have morphed into a tourist market and is presently on land—although we’re told this, too, changes when the rainy season arrives. There are stops at a family silversmith business, a lotus-fiber weaving business which sells its wares at staggeringly high prices—even for foreigners—, a cheroot rolling factory, a small boat building enterprise and then the requisite pagodas.
As we leave the first pagoda having had a simple lunch of avocado salad, large rain drops begin falling. By the time we pull into the so-called Jumping Cat Monastery, a beautiful teak pagoda renowned for its monks of old who trained the many monastery cats to jumps through hoops(!), the rain turns torrential. We take shelter in the pagoda, checking out the lounging monks and the gently cared for prayer areas. There is an odd assortment of shops around the complex—and there are indeed legions of cats, but no more tricks or leaping from this feline generation. In a light drizzle, and an occasional drenching, we boat back to the hotel under umbrellas. It’s a good first look at the area. We hope to check out a more traditional and local market the next day.
The markets around the lake rotate on a 5 day schedule, and the hotel confirms that the market we hope to see is indeed the following day. We arrange a tuk-tuk(basically a motorcycle with a small covered truck bed behind it for passengers) to make our way to the Maing Thauk market. We arrive early and meander around the stalls, returning the easy smiles that seem to be the universal response to our just looking in any given person’s direction. We watch the ladies preparing betel nuts packages, and are starting to take more serious notice of just how many people actually chew the small leaf-wrapped bundles, and how truly dreadful many people’s teeth are as a result. We are also getting better at ignoring the rather vile habit of projectile blood-red spitting associated with this very local habit. A few hours gives us a solid look at the market scene and we’re off to check out more of the Nwaung Shwe.
Our remaining days have us taking a day’s walk(trek) into the local mountains with a couple of young guides, the younger of whom is a sort of apprentice who’s English is almost incomprehensible, but whose smile is utterly disarming. We walk up to a Buddha riddled cave, passing through different Danu and Pa-O villages, meeting monks whose greatest thrill seems to be taking their picture with us and then asking if we have Facebook(!), but there is little way for us to differentiate the peoples we encounter as today they virtually all wear the traditional Myanmar longyi, as opposed to their more traditional dress, at least in this area. Higher in the hills poverty is dire, and the guides confirm our perception. Most people appear to make some sort of living from chopping wood, as the fuel for cooking and heating is all, by necessity, wood. The hills are not just dry from the fact that it’s the “cold” season, but they have been, and continue to be systematically denuded, with no viable alternative appearing at present. There is no electricity, although we do encounter random solar panels, and even one that is hooked up to a TV dish. On our way back downhill we stop for a simple lunch, largely prepared by our two guides, with ample platters of fruits, a few cookies, a truly delicious bowl of Shan noodles, and plenty of tea. Further down the mountain we stop in at a monastery for about 40 boys, where a monk is presiding over some sort of downtime for the kids, who sit in a clump all watching TV—quiet as mice. We leave a small donation and slowly head back into town treating the guides at a local tea shop before parting ways.
Our final day in the area we decide that despite our having lost count of the number of Buddhas we’ve seen, we want to forge ahead and add another 8000+ in one visit, by making our way north to the smallish town of Pindaya, famed for its hillside caves adorned with Buddhas. We have again made arrangements for a taxi ride for the 90km haul.
Our driver Maw Maw is quite talkative along the journey, although in all honestly not everything he says is entirely comprehensible English. He has a couple of go-to topics—specifically the innate evil of using chemical fertilizer, and in a completely different sphere, the fact that he wants to teach English as a volunteer to his fellow Burmese when he becomes too old to do anything else—. He, like many of the Burmese we can communicate with, is big on doing things of merit, and he waxes quite eloquently on the topic. He seems to be a walking talking advertisement for the way of living like a true Buddhist.
The road is in appalling shape, dangerously narrow, with rutted, low shoulders, and undergoing all sorts of repair and perhaps widening in places. There are few cars, but quite a number of small, heavily laden trucks, reams of motorcycles, and ox-carts pulled by hefty oxen, so going is rather slow. Along the way we encounter veritable chain gangs of women repairing the road. They are all ages, and doing seriously heavy labor, pounding larger rocks into smaller ones, carrying pans on their heads full of these stones, then distributing them along the roadway by throwing the pans full of rocks onto the surface while other women then redistribute them to sort of even the surface, and throw pans of concrete dust on the rocks. This is not gravel, but half-fist sized rocks. Maw Maw maintains this work provides a tiny supplemental income for the family. The women earn about $3 a day. Most also help farm, so adding to their backbreaking work. For us, the scene strikes us as alarmingly close to slavery.
We arrive in Pindaya before the major crowds arrive, and the driver insists we book a table at the local restaurant that caters to tourists, engaging in a lengthy and incomprehensible discussion about which table he wants us to have so that we’ll have a good view of the local lake. He seems pleased when we leave and then drives us to the half-way point from which we begin the walk—barefoot, of course—to the main entrance of the cave. On entering, the Buddhas are everywhere, all sizes, high in small niches in the cave, rows and ledges everywhere, some beautifully lit, others shimmering golden in the shadows. It’s nothing less than overwhelming. Beyond the opening is an area called the “maze”, and from here the cave narrows, one goes deeper and eventually the temperature and humidity rise markedly and one reaches the largest cave. There are donated Buddhas of all sizes from all over the world, a whole wing dedicated to the many mudras(hand gestures) of the Buddha, some made of bronze, others of a sort of ceramic. There is also a stupa to add gold leaf to. It’s nothing short of a kaleidoscope of Buddhas and positively mesmerizing.
We slowly make our way back down, enjoy a simple lunch(succeessfully garnering a good table), and then stop by small family business that makes Shan paper from the bark of the local mulberry tree from which they ultimately make lovely paper umbrellas and other goods. A couple of young women show us the whole process, while one of their sisters paints traditional designs on a large parasol on the patio. Beautiful craft work indeed.
Last stop is the local market which we happen to have hit in the (also) five day rotation. Strictly a local affair, there are endless ominous looking sweets, and we are offered some semolina cake, which is quite tasty, There are jewellers, mat makers, mechanics(?), and even a wing of seamstresses. All the fruit and vegetables vendors are outside the covered market, doing their best to shade their wares from the punishing sun. Same slow ride home with a predictable reprise of Maw Maw's favorite talking points!
On Sunday we’ll be taking a mini-bus/van for the day long trip north to Mandalay—about 7-8 hours climbing through the mountainous Shan state back down to the large central plains of Myanmar.
Links below are to photos!
https://goo.gl/photos/DmT7XDQQ4nShQa8FA
https://goo.gl/photos/CxMEP9eer8KR6bhZ6
https://goo.gl/photos/afead5RC3DfBZDqf8
https://goo.gl/photos/vPgtECyQj4iVRNwx8
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