S.E. Asia, Part Three─Myanmar

We ate again at an outdoor restaurant on the Mekong and were rewarded with a spectacular sunset, but the "red sky at night" ditty did not work for us.

In the morning we were supposed to fly to Mandalay but, since we did not have visas, Lao Air would fly us only to Bangkok, where, we were told, a visa for Myanmar might take up to five days.  The guide books all state that Myanmar visas have to be arranged before arrival, but other countries in S.E. Asia also claim to require advanced purchase but allow travelers to buy short-term tourist visas at the border.  I assumed Myanmar would as well, and if not, our Cambodian travel agent would have told us.  I was wrong on both counts.  We got a hotel in Bangkok and I called the emergency number listed on our itinerary and told the person who answered of our plight.  He said he would check and call me back.  He called back in about 20 minutes and said he had called several offices, but it was Sunday afternoon and no one answered.  He would try again first thing Monday.  Deb and I discussed what we should do.  If Myanmar were impossible, we could fly back to Luang Prabang or Siem Reap.  Fortunately, in my original scheduling, I had built in several extra days to allow for slippage and to give us more time in Bangkok so it was not panic time.  Yet.

We sat in the hotel bar trying to decide what to do with our evening.  The barmaid suggested we take in the fair at Lumpini Park that she had wanted to go to but had to work instead.  It was the last day of a five-day national Thailand Tourism Fair that offered "a showcase of the kingdom's glorious centuries-old culture."  We grabbed a tuk-tuk and at the park found craft and food booths, stages with music and a variety of performances,

large balloon and paper figures, and a throng of fair-goers.

Monday morning, we received a call from our travel agent who said, and I had him repeat it three times before I understood through his accent, that he was putting his "dream team" to work on the problem.  Twenty minutes later, the team (two individuals) showed up, took our passports and US$250 and said they would return in the afternoon.  We decided to do what we would have done if we had found ourselves with an extra day at the end of our trip: hunt antiques.

We found "Paul's Antiques" (www.paulsantiques.com), owned by a woman from Chicago married to a Thai lawyer, and our favorite souvenir from the trip:  a bronze elephant bell, cast with a bas-relief of Airavata, the three headed white elephant who carried Indra, mounted in a bentwood frame.

And that evening, the dream team showed up with our passports sporting new Myanmar visas and rescheduled airline tickets, hotels, and guides.  We were on our way.  Again.

Mandalay is a modern city (established 1857) of about 1.25 million, half of whom─it seems─are on motor bikes or scooters zipping around and by the cars and trucks on the streets.  Perhaps the most outstanding sight was the Buddha, about 12 foot tall, within the Mahamuni Pagoda, adorned with so much gold that its body is a mass of golden blobs, each built up of the thinnest pieces of gold leaf applied over years by devotees.

Another interesting sight: the Shwenandaw Kyaung monastery,

made entirely of teak, with intricate carvings and teak columns supporting the roof.

Mandalay city was established near Mandalay Hill to fulfill a legend of Buddhism, which states that Buddha himself predicted that a great city would arise there.  A covered walkway leads to the top; believers gain merit by walking the 1,729 steps.  There's a road too: we drove.

The next day I was laid up with a bacterial infection from, we think, the highend sushi restaurant we ate at in Bangkok.  Fortunately, Deb's doctor in Philomath had provided us with an antidote for just such an event.  While I recovered, Deb headed across the Ayeyarwaddy river to explore by horse cart.

The next morning, a 35-minute flight took us to one of the most unusual destinations of our trip, or perhaps of any of our trips:  Bagan.  According to Burmese legend, Bagan was founded in the second century CE but modern thought holds that it was founded in the 9^th century.  During the next 250-odd years, Bagan's rich and powerful had constructed some thousand stupas, 10,000 small temples, and 3000 monasteries.  Unfortunately, the area is an active earthquake zone: between 1904 and 1975 alone, some 400 quakes were recorded; only 2229 temples and pagodas remain.

Everywhere we drove, however, monuments loomed, some in ruin, others standing or restored.

The three above are among the earliest, the middle one still partly covered with original stucco.

We visited some of the most notable but there were so many,

keeping them straight was impossible.

We walked within some,

looked at Buddhas, bas-reliefs, tiles, and painted walls,

climbed others, took photos.

Finally, Deb said, if she never saw another Buddha, it would be too soon.  I sympathized.  We hired a boat and headed for a farming community across the river.

The people there move themselves and their animals to higher ground during flooding, but permanent structures were built on stilts.

The few roads were narrow and not paved.

We looked for the school, but it was Saturday─no classes.  We found the principal, however, tutoring students, who were happy to take the candy we brought.

The principal walked us to the school to show it and we made a small donation to help with expenses.  She thanked us and wrote the amount in a book and had me sign it and said the school board would decide how to use it.

We found a farmer cutting silage with an ingenious foot-driven slicer.  He very nicely let me help.  I'm afraid I just provided him with a little comic relief for the day.

Back in Bagan, we stopped at a shop where they made and sold lacquer ware and gave us a tour of the works and explained the elaborate months-long hand process of making real lacquer ware.

Deb found a box she could not resist.

That evening, we flew to Yangon.  An interesting aspect of dictatorship is its ability to make changes by decree:  Within Yangon, it is illegal to drive trishaws, bicycles, and motorcycles, and since 2004, car horns have been banned, so traffic is considerably more orderly than in other Asian cities.

We spent time at Shwedagon Pagoda, probably the most famous icon of Yangon, if not Burma,

 

 but most of it was covered in bamboo mats and scaffolding

 

 so workers could refurbish the gold leaf.

 

 Our view was different than shown in the brochures.

The finial contains a 72 carat diamond,

which, according to Yangonians, is first thing in the country to catch the morning sun and the last to see the sun in the evening.

Among the many Buddhas and artifacts in the pagoda complex were two large bells.  King Tharrawaddy of the Konbaung Dynasty donated this one in 1841.  The Pali name of the bell is Maha Tissada Gandha which means "Great Three-toned Sweet Sound."  Deb rang it.  So did President Barack Obama and John Kerry.

We flew to Bangkok and spent a day antiquing, then flew Air China some 5 hours to Beijing on what would have been a long slog home but Air China changed our Beijing-San Francisco flight to a day later, so we arranged to visit the Great Wall.  From Beijing, it's a two-hour drive to the bottom of the Mutianyu tourist complex (constructed to handle thousands at a time), then a bus ride to the bottom of the gondolas that take visitors to a point where they can climb to the Wall.

We found that other famous people had visited the Wall before us.

The "In" guides warn travelers to avoid sections of the Wall near Beijing because of the throngs, but the temperature was about 28°F, chilly for us but bitter for most:  the entire complex was deserted except for a few bundled up hawkers and stragglers like us.  We examined Watchtower 14, built in 1404.

We walked along the wall to get different perspectives.

We arrived home January 29.

S.E.Asia─Part Two: Buddha World

Tonlé Sap Lake, the largest lake in S.E. Asia, is a strange lake.  During the dry season, it is about three feet deep, covers about 1,000 square miles, and drains to the south.  In the wet season, water flows north from the Mekong, increasing its area to some 6,200 square miles with a depth of 27 feet.  We took a boat on the river out to the lake, past giant fish traps waiting wet season deployment

to the village of Kompong Phluk, part of which is on stilts to survive flooding but the part we saw was entirely floating, the villagers living from fishing, selling to the floating restaurants on the lake and to the markets in town.

The next day we drove to Phnom Penh, the worst drive of our trip.  The entire way was under construction, continuous pot holes, dust, traffic.  We stopped about noon and sampled deep-fried spider and cricket.

I can't recommend spider, but cricket was not bad.  Locals eat them as snacks while drinking beer and watching football on tv at tea houses.

In Phnom Pen, we visited the usual tourist sites: the National Museum, the Royal Palace, Wat Phnom (the city's eponymous temple), and the Silver Pagoda (its floor consists of 5329 silver tiles, most of which are covered in protective carpeting so visitors can't see or walk on them).  In the middle of town, our guide pointed out giant fruit bats sleeping in tall trees above the traffic.

We took a ferry on the Mekong to Koh Dach island (also called "Silk Island") and watched locals spinning silk thread on primitive wheels and weaving silk cloth.

Deb contributed to the local economy by buying some nice silk table runners and a scarf.

In the evening, we flew to Vientiane, reportedly the most laidback capital in the world.  Our guide took us to the Seasons Riverside hotel, a block or so from the high banks of the Mekong where we found a nice Lao supper at an on-the-street restaurant.

The next day, we visited Wat Si Saket, famous for its display of some 7000 Buddhas of all sizes, made from wood, ceramic, stone, and bronze from the 16^th to 19^th centuries.

We took in Ho Phra Keo, once the Lao royal family's personal chapel, and then on to other standard tourist attractions.

Interesting as the architecture was, I was most taken by the variety of sculpture decorating the structures,

including a huge reclining Buddha, representing his last moments on earth before achieving Nirvana.

You can get an idea of the size: Deb is standing in front by the umbrella.  That evening we again ate on the bank of the Mekong.

In the morning, we took a 50-minute flight north to Luang Prabang, a World Heritage Site since 1995, located on a high peninsula between the Mekong and the Nam Khan rivers.  For the first time, the temperatures (perhaps 60°F) suited our Oregon natures.  The hotel clerk, on the other hand, wore a heavy coat and often a head scarf and complained.  The population of Luang Prabang is about 50,000; its primary income is from tourists who come for the temples and other sights: it is full of boutique hotels and restaurants, souvenir shops and shops offering tours; it is the Estes Park of S.E. Asia.  On the spit above the rivers, open air restaurants overlook the water.  We munched Lao food and watched a fisherman cast his net and then beat the water to encourage fish to enter the net.

We visited Wat Zieng Thong, built by King Setthanthirath in 1559-1560, purported to be the most beautiful temple in S.E. Asia, the entrance guarded by fine Nagas.

Other temples were also lovely, with flowing roofs and walls decorated with inlays and gold.

Perhaps the most unusual was Wat Vison, built in the 16^th  century, referred to by locals as the Watermelon stupa.

In hopes of catching an interesting sunset, we climbed the 328 steps to the top of Phou Si, a hill in the middle of town.

Alas, the sky did not cooperate, but the view was nice.

We walked down a second route and came out on the main street with the ubiquitous night market already set up─a series of "easy-up" tents in the street with hawkers under them selling local craft and tourist crap.

Deb got up early to participate in the daily alms ceremony:  Saffron robed monks and novices with their bowls each morning walk regular routes and collect food from the faithful and from tourists.  If they collect more than they can consume that day, they share it with children who show up with their own containers.  Workers in our hotel showed Deb where to kneel and laid out a rug.

She distributed rice, fruit, and cookies she had purchased from a local woman.  Then we ate our own breakfast on the hotel patio.

We hired one of the traditional Mekong long boats and headed up the river, by temples and farmsteads. bamboo groves and forest, and beyond, mountains in the mist,

a land so peaceful and beautiful it breaks your heart to think of the boys and young men sent here to die by ignorant old men furthering their own political ambitions.

We put ashore at Xanghai village, known for production of a traditional Lao rice whiskey, Lao Khao, produced in pot stills that would make any moonshiner envious.

Although production is primarily for local consumption, the facility caters to tourists, of course, providing samples and a sign explaining the process.

Mr. Somboun also sold jars of the whiskey with various animals and herbs pickled within, each aimed at treating a particular ailment.

We toured the village and found a coming-out party, given when a baby is one month old; prior to that, it is kept inside for protection.  Guests included the extended family, friends, and as it turned out, us.  Gifts of money are accepted; Deb tied a ribbon on the baby's wrist signifying the money she had given.

As we continued upstream, we passed one of the long boats on the rocks.  Our guide said the owner had loaded the boat so full of teak he could not effectively steer it.

The river is not benign.  We were on it during the dry season.  In the wet season it floods, and farmers move uphill until the water subsides.  The restaurant where we ate lunch had a framed photo of a particularly bad year.

Our goal was about two hours upstream from Luang Prabang: the Pak Ou Caves,

renown for the hundreds of sculptures of Buddha arrayed on shelves and walls.

We boated across the river for lunch and had to tread a bouncy ramp since there was no dock.

After lunch we walked to the Nam Ou Elephant farm not far away where, since Deb had never ridden an elephant, we engaged one for a short ride into the forest.

The farm rescues elephants from Lao logging camps, brings them back to health, and keeps them in as natural a state a possible.  For a fee, one can stay for up to a week (or probably as long as one wanted) to learn how to be a mahout. 

A sign was posted explaining how to talk to elephants.

After our ride, Deb fed our elephant bananas, which she (the elephant) clearly enjoyed, skin and all.

We attended an operatic production of Phralak Phralam, the Lao version of Ramayana.

The complete work takes about 8 hours so is performed over five evenings.

We saw only part three, lasting about an hour and a half, with an orchestra of Lao instruments.

On our way to Kuang Si Falls, we found a group of men outside a roadside market comparing fighting cocks.  Fighting cocks in Laos are valued and coddled; many Lao have one.  (Our guide said he did.)  The men had an exercise wheel to get their birds in shape.

They put two birds in a cardboard ring for a timed minute─one man had a stop watch.  The birds' beaks were tied shut and cloth covered their spurs.

Trust me on this, for these photographs, no animals were harmed, or even fatigued.

We stopped at a Hmong village along the road, relocated from the mountains so health care and education can be provided

Hmong still maintain their hill farms, but (according to our guide) do not resist resettlement because they value the government services.

At one of their shops, Deb spun cotton on a Hmong wheel.

We visited a butterfly park, opened by a Dutch couple in January, 2014, guided by a Russian entomologist from Moscow who was visiting for a few months.

He showed us chrysalises that we never would have found without his help.

We visited a bear sanctuary; endangered Asiatic black bears rescued from poachers and from bear bile collectors who keep the bears in cages to extract bile for Chinese remedies.

Our goal was Kuang Si Falls, about 19 miles south of Luang Prabang: lovely cascades and turquoise pools.

We were ready to move on, but problems arose.  (More in Part Three.)