Mingalaba

Comings&Goings

Bagan, Myanmar

We came to learn that the early morning chanting which awakened us around 4 am reflected the activity surrounding a seven day religious celebration at the Ananda Temple which featured 24 hour a day monk chanting, booming through speakers and drifting throughout the region. We learned too that hundreds of pilgrims had journeyed from all over Bagan to celebrate this festival and partake in both religious rites and an almost carnival festival, replete with pop up stores, restaurants, and souvenir stands.

What struck us more than anything were the overloaded caravans of trucks and cars, packed with adults and children and loaded down with gear, setting up ad hoc tent cities constructed of tarps and woven mats as friends and families settled in for a week to combine faith and clearly some fun. From the ongoing cacophony of chatter, colorful dress, and activity, one could not help but feel the warmth of their common humanity. Later in the day, as Amy and I moved among the throngs, it appeared that they may have been more curious about us than we of them.

Milton’s Balloon

We awakened, however, early and, in darkness, we were taken to the launching site where we had a cup of coffee, also in darkness, and got to know Milton, our Aussie pilot, who was right out of Indiana Jones central casting.  By his own description, Milton had been a “naughty” boy and a truant growing up in New Zealand before finding a way to escape to Australia, starting his career as a dishwasher, and then – through happenstance and guile – linking onto the nascent hot air balloon industry.

After many years of perfecting his craft, both Milton and his wife are now balloon pilots dividing their time between Myanmar, East Africa, and Australia, guiding balloon tours, meeting interesting people, and enjoying living in different parts of the world. In short, Milton lives for hot air balloons. It also crossed my mind that a one-time passenger probably doesn’t want a pilot who is still learning about balloon physics and trying to find his/her way along the balloon learning curve.

Silently, we watched as the balloons around us were inflated, and then we took to the skies just as they started to brighten with the day ahead.

The next 45 minutes or so were pretty amazing as we drifted over Bagan and headed towards the Irrawaddy River, floating above temples, pagodas, stupas and monasteries, viewing the world from an entirely different perspective.  All truly sublime to be sure. At one point we were floating 3,000 feet high with only the sound of the wind and the occasional blasting of fire into the balloon.

After seeing Bagan from the sky, we spent the afternoon exploring on E-bikes/scooters, pushing Amy’s risk envelope to be sure.  No real mishaps until Amy went to park the bike at the end of the ride and then decided unexpectedly to throttle up.  More details to follow.

Ye Ye’s Grasshopper Tour

Leaving the skies and E-bikes behind, we had great fun on Day Two in Bagan, having signed up for a gritty (literally) mtn. bike tour through the dirt tracks of various towns and along the single tracks leading to different ancient sights. Ye Ye, our guide, was outstanding and knowledgeable about the many sights and the underlying Myanmar culture. He was especially keen about the evolution of Buddha design and taught us to recognize shifts in Buddha lips, eyes, and hands. In some cases, as one moves away from a Buddha’s gaze, his affect becomes more gentle, more friendly.

In a country with military rule and a problematic shift towards democracy, Ye Ye shared his thoughts about the country’s diversity and its 135 different ethic groups. We also talked with him about the Rohingya refugee crisis and that ethnicity’s suffering and, at least from Ye Ye’s point of view, we learned that this group’s struggles are part of a very complicated morality tale.

As we weaved and dodged people, oxen, scooters, and more, I wish that I was positioned to take a picture of Amy ahead of me, navigating her bike along the busy road, enveloped by hoards of people, machinery, honking horns and occasional stray dogs. Kind of a mass of humanity with color and movement.  With the Ananda Festival going on, caravans of religious pilgrims moved about and camped along the roads.  We had a few “white knuckle” moments on the bikes, but otherwise safely negotiated some of the winding dirt roads. We especially enjoyed pedaling through quieter Bagan neighborhoods, witnessing the pulse of daily life there. Of note were the courtesy warning honks of scooters and cars, as they made their way by us and kept us out of harm’s way.

Myanmar’s Venice, Inle Lake

We moved deeper into Myanmar’s interior today, taking first a turbo prop plane and then a 1.5 hour taxi to the stunning Inle Lake Region.  Two quintessential mountain ranges bracket each side of the 50 square miles of lake expanse, providing picturesque sunrises and sunsets with its ubiquitous mountain backdrop.

We observed that the lake has a series of small floating villages on stilts, so to speak, and that while scooters were critical for transportation in Chiang Mai and Bagan, one needed here some sort of watercraft.  Our boat reminded me of a 32 foot Adirondack guide canoes, with a flat bottom, and an amusing four stroke engine with a long, moveable drive shaft and propeller for navigating the small serpentine canals and an overabundance of invasive lily pads. 

We spent the day zipping across and around the lake visiting market places, floating gardens, temples, and stupas, in addition to observing artisans at work crafting textiles, teak boats, silver, and bamboo items.  The day also appeared to be “wash” day, as many people, mostly women, bathed along the canal banks. While Inle Lake is relatively new to the world of tourism, one has the sense that as the region grows it will be more than prepared to host visitors from around the world.

#Amy’stakeonthings

So we are just over half way through this spectacular trip, and I find that stumbling upon schools, taking pictures of children and their parents, and seeing the spectacular super blood wolf moon rise and set over Bagan helped us both feel less far from home.

In Inle Lake, we stumbled upon a loud and busy boy’s school, and watched the boys and their teachers (not understanding a word of all the chatter) problem solve how to lift a platform (stage?) back into the schoolyard. The scene made us smile and think of Westminster. We watched the children at a primary school happily running around the recess yard, and we continue every day to wave back in answer to the joyful “Hello!”s we receive from the many children in the different villages we pass by on our bikes. We have not met with one scowl, frown or impatient voice as we navigate streets and crowds, lakes and hills, boats and bikes. Inle Lake was quiet – almost ghostly quiet – while Bagan was filled with the energy of happy people at a festival and the constant background sound of the monks chanting through the night. Every bright splash of the bright saffron or burgundy color robes of the monks continues to catch my eye, and each time I think of the commitment these men (soon women, in Laos) make as they sign on to a higher purpose. The splash of color stops me every time.

Up up, and away

Caravans of religious pilgrims

Morning fishing

And Finally

I had forgotten about the awkward and amusing interplay that emerges between a visitor and a local when traveling and dealing with a language barrier. On many occasions thus far, I have watched locals try to translate my slow enunciation of English (as if that makes it easier for one who speaks in the Thai or Myanmar languages) and my words of intent. There is often a respectful, earnest and blank stare in response, with friendly and foreign eyes seeking non-verbal cues for understanding. A few gesticulations and body movements on my part, more slow English, and then a victory of sorts as a dawning smile of understanding opens up before me – an epiphany at its very best.