Friday 3 August 2007

Thumb twiddling

I'm stuck in Kathmandu, thanks to a severe fu*k up (sorry mum, but it's deserved) on behalf of Thai Airways or Global Adventure Trekking or Flight Consultants or Osho World Travel or the fiddler's dog, who knows. The end result is that instead of being reunited with my boyfriend at the Edinburgh train station in a misty sepia-coloured photograph RIGHT THIS MINUTE, I am here with my daiquari. I'm turning into Ernest Hemingway.

To make pleasanter the 48 hour delay, I've been thinking through the highlights of this trip. Here's the top ten...

(in no order)

(off the top of my head).

1. Mytkyina to Mandalay boat ride, Myanmar
48 hours in the lungs of a ship: inter-mingling with Burmese people, sharing my books and camera and pictures; laughing with the boys running the kitchen that will live and work on the noisy rusty ferry for all their lives. Singing the 'Titanic' song with Heather whilst watching the sun set over palm fronds and water; it could almost have been the Thai islands.

2. Mt Kailash kora, Tibet
Such a beautiful place, a sacred place. One of the few places on the tourist trail that it's still an effort to get to (and not for long - again the Chinese are gonna destroy the thing they so revere by building an airport and a road around it) and an effort to climb... but for such reward.

3. Tibet in general
My first land-bound glipse of theTibetan mountains whilst on the road from the airport into Lhasa will always stay with me, as will first seeing the lovely lady pilgrims with their prayer wheels and patterned aprons walking the Barkhor... Butter tea; yak wax candles, spruice... such a special, special place.

4. Bagan, Myanmar
Having awesome travel companions in Germans, Gerd and Sarah, so I didn't have to think about the schedule for a minute! Watching the sunlight rise over the Bagan temples, thinking how it the pink light of dawn, it looked just like England.

5. Thamel, Kathmandu
There are few places to get over the remoteness - and lack of a good menu - of a trip like that to Kailash than Thamel. There can be too much of a good thing though... I do wish I wasn't still here.

6. Tiger Leaping Gorge, China
Like Bagan, this was a place that I'd longed to see from afar and had planned my trip around. It's such a vast gorge from north to south and unfortunately one that is soon to be diminished by the humans who mistakenly think they can tame the world. See below blog for more on China's plan to dam TLG.

7. Kids of Kathmandu
Many people have flocked to Kathmandu from the countryside over the last five years to escape the Maoist conflict, including many children who've run away or been pushed away from home. I had the good furtune to meet Bruce Moore of the American Himalaya Foundation and go to a shelter for street kids here. The shelter we visited caters for 600 kids, and provides shelter for 200 of them every night. There is a school and a clinic. If not for that place, many of those kids would have no option outside of the glue sniffing and intravenous drug use (that means HIV) that's prevalent in the homeless community. Please check out the Foundation's link(www.himalayan-foundation.org) because they do absolutely fantastic work for the Nepalese, Sherpas and Tibetans that have very little support to get outside the tragic cycle of displacement and poverty.

7. Chinese food
The Chinese make very bad humanitatian and environmental decisions but they cook like angels.

8. Lijang, China
This UNESCO town was like stepping back into the China of two hundred years ago. Imagine swinging lamps, water wheels, willows brushing the water of stone canals... stunning.

9. Missing Richie, everywhere
High vomit factor, I know. I don't think distance could make this heart grow fonder, but it has given me even more perspective on what's important. So I'll see you soon baby!

10. Edinburgh, Scotland
I'm not there yet but it'll be good. :)

xx

Wednesday 1 August 2007

Cultivate your garden...

Kathmandu is perhaps one of the most romantic cities I've been too. Maybe it's the fact that I wake up to the patter of gentle rain on most mornings. Or that I'm staying at the Kathmandu Guest House, a historical colonial building and perhaps the most famous of guesthouses in this city. It's seen its fair share of intrepid adventurers.

Or maybe it's the fact that two of my most favourite people got engaged near here.

Or the fact that I can get lost in a rainbow frenzy of pashminas, and can think of Ben and Chris and Mia (because everytime I wear your shawl I feel like you are giving me a cuddle.)

Or that every bookstore has another version of the Karma Sutra - titillation for a girl who's missed her boy for the last two-and-a-bit months... oh la la!

And yet another surprise today: the Garden of Dreams. The Garden of Dreams is like something for Little Lord Faulteroy, a secret garden. It was commissioned more than 80 years ago by Keshar Shumsher Rama, the son of a Prime Minister of Nepal, a lover of art, architecture, history and gardens... many of the good things in life. He was inspired to develop his garden of the seasons after visiting an Edwardian garden in Britian. But it was forgotton after his death and became overgrown and untended. Only in 1996 did the Austrian government fund it's refurbishment and it's back to its former romantic glory.

This beautiful place, hidden by high walls, features six pavilions - one for each of the Nepalese seasons. A pair of irory-coloured elephants guard the entrance to the spring pavilion. A maple tree conceals a pond with lillies. Marigolds play sentinel to a moss pool, on which I wrote "Caz loves Richie" with twigs.

There are lovers seats set amongst long grass, like they have at the palace at Brighton. Plus, plaques around the garden feature inscriptions by poets and writers of times past; including a line by Voltaire... "cultivate your garden"... from Candide.

It was the setting for a wedding.

So, a little message for all of us.... cultivate your garden. Take care of the ones you love... and maybe one day you can show them how much you love them in the romantic city of Kathmandu.

Monday 30 July 2007

Nepali tea is oh so good! Nepali rain sucks

I'm proud to call myself a quitter today. I failed my first test of Nepalese mountaineering; Everest is nowhere in my sights.


I did what every good backpacker does when they check into Kathmandu. I got myself a room in Thamel, I drank my way through several fabulous daiquaris to shake off the noodle aftertaste of Tibet and I, of course, booked myself into a trek. It was supposed to be just a baby one, four days only, to give myself a taste for the country life in Nepal.


But three-quarters of the way through, the rain got the better of me. Day one was five hours walk uphill, in the mud in the rain. Day two was nine hours walk uphill in the mud in the rain. Today was a sinch - just five hours through the mud but downhill in the rain. My fancy new Chinese made Goretex jacket didn't cut the grade so for the last 60 hours I've been damp. Cos it's wet inside the guesthouses as well, so nothing dries overnight. Oh, and did I mention the leeches?!


So when people tell you to wait out the monsoon in Nepal, believe 'em! Sit back in Thamel with your Nepali tea in the morning, your mango daiquari in the evening. Go to yoga, buy some pashminas.


So, with my mango daiquari and my now-dry, quitters feet, I toast to Thamel and I toast to foolhardy mountaineers who's boots I can't fill.

Wednesday 11 July 2007

I'm gonna get HIIIIGGGGHHHHH!!!!!!

Now that I've had my political rant, let me tell you what I've been up to.

Neither words nor pictures can express how awsome Tibet is because it is also a place of smells and sounds. Today was my last day in Lhasa, so I took the most sacred of holy walks, that being around the Jokhang Temple in the middle of the Tibetan town. It was a rainy morning, cold, so at 8am I was the only westerner with a flock of Tibetan pilgrams, equipped with their prayer wheels and hot flasks of yak wax to keep the candles burning. It was so smoky in the Jokhang that it was sometimes difficult to breathe, but listening to a fold of monks chanting the morning mantras, and lining up with the locals to pay my respects to the main buddha - Suryamuni - made up for the lack of air.

Yesterday I went to the beautiful Potala Palace, home of my main man the Dalai Lama. It was wonderful to be there just knowing the age of the place and that it is so special to Tibetans. Unfortunately you have to look past the terrible propaganda of how the Chinese liberated Tibetans from slavery blah blah, plus the very annoying Chinese tour groups that screech over the silence, to enjoy the place. I don't mean to be racist but again, they shouldn't be here. And it's ironic that these people are so enjoying a place that they have tried to tear down, enjoying the home of someone they won't recognise.

So my internet time is up - I'll leave it at that. I'm off to sacred Mt Kailash (7000m +) for 12 days tomorrow, then to Kathmandu. Here we come Nepal!

Quit work, come to beautiful Tibet.

Monday 9 July 2007

Free Tibet bandwagon

So, all of you know how I love a good argument, and a political one at that. In my defence, all I knew of the political situation in Tibet before coming here was a few 'Free Tibet' signs being held up by dredlocked-wearing hippies at university open days all of 10 years ago.

But coming to Tibet, one cannot help getting caught up in the political - and emotional - situation here.

I can't read your comments, guys, because I think the Chinese government prevent blogspot from being viewed. But I guess (hope) that some of them from he most recent post express envy and good wishes for me being here. And if so, for wonderful reason. The scenery is spectacular; the people gorgeous - in looks and manner.

As you walk around, you cannot be more struck by how different the Tibetan culture is to the Chinese and therefore, how unjust the Chinese occupation. 1.2 million Tibetans have died - either through stavation brought about by Chinese communist methods, or by slaughter from the Red Guards - since the Chinese occupation 50 years ago. In a country of 4 million people, that's a lot.

There are small injustices. The fact that part of the walk at the Potala Palace now goes anti-clockwise - in strict opposition to the clockwise way of the Buddhist pilgrims; the fact that the holy stones at Namsto Lake have a Chinese building on the top; the fact that all the signs in Lhasa are written in Chinese bold script, the Tibetan words (if they appear at all) are smaller. There are no pictures of the Dalai Lama allowed in Tibet. The current Panchen Lama (second in charge) named by the Dalai, has been in custody for some countless years. And the Chinese have named a different Panchen in his place, hopefully to usurp the position of the Dalai. Pilgims at the Jokhang Temple in the centre of town are jostled by police as the walk through to pray and chapels are shut without reason.

The Dalai himself says the political situation here is complicated. I am no expert but from here in Lhasa, in my bones, it feels like this gorgeous place should be free to be its own. To be peaceful. Free Tibet.

Thursday 5 July 2007

Tibet: ouch you amazing place!

Hi guys

Nothing can do Tibet justice except to say - it is stunning, stunning, stunning! I am pinching myself I am here! I've been off the plane for a whole 9 hours but already it's clear to me why people flock to this place.

The 95 km journey from the airport unveiled sandy granite hills reflected in unpolluted, green / blue brooks; prayer flags dotted across bridges and streams, and a deep blue sky - like virgin ice - us being up at this altitude (Lhasa is 3700 metres above sea level said to be one of the highest cities in the world).

I've spent my last few hours getting bearings in the higgledy-piggledy backlanes around Barkhor Square, the old tibetan area around the Jokhang Temple. The people watching has been fantastic - withered old ladies carrying prayer wheels; worshipers prostrating in a parade around the main square; horsemen with skin like leather and matted hair, and all sorts of different ethic dress. Words fail me.

And the people are lovely - tonnes of smiles and I've made some local friends already. A little girl took some of the only pics of me I have on this tour and I met some sisters who are giving me a mini tour so they can practice their english.

And what a day to be in Lhasa, for it's the Dalai Lama's birthday I'm told. There won't be pomp and circumstance but I will make my pilgramage to the beautiful Potala Palace anyway. I'm pinching myself!

xx

Friday 29 June 2007

Crouching Tigers, Hidden Doom

I can't quite believe I've been in China a week. Whilst not blogging, I've been swallowing up everything there is to offer in fantastic Yunnan provice, in the very south west of the country.


Yunnan borders Myanmar and Tibet so it's full of ethnic minorities, many of whom still wear traditional dress when in the feilds or catering to the tourists. So as we've toured around, it's not uncommon to see the women wearing pink head gear, like fuscia hats for Russian Cossacks, or full length yellow silk dresses with little plats in their hair (OK, the last is mainly in the tourist centres).


My first stop was Kunming, the capital of the province and what a change it was from Myanmar. I flew over the last green mountain into lego land - a bustling city of brand new highrises, which have replaced much of the old Chinese buildings that Kunming was renowned for. It's not an unpleasant city though; Olympics preparation has brought about wide boulevards and being a university town, there are funky shop front areas that would fit in well in Melbourne or Newtown.


Although Kumning doesn't have many old areas left, our next stop Lijang has a large and beautifully preserved Old Town. With polished cobble-stoned streets, low lying wooden buildings decorated with red lanterns, canals and even an ancient water wheel, stepping into Lijang was like stepping back in time to a lost China. Our guesthouse was a wooden building of two stories with a balcony on the second floor that looked down into an internal square courtyard. I felt like a concubine staying there.

And from Lijang we headed to Tiger Leaping Gorge, the reason I came to China. Drawfed bythe Ha Ba mountain range, which includes the spectacular 5,500 m Jade Dragon Snow Mountain, Tiger Leaping Gorge is said to be the deepest gorge in the world. Despite what a sacred place - and a tourist attraction - you would think this would make it to the Chinese, the gorge is seriously threatened. Developers are planning to dam it - as they've done 1000 kms downstream at the Three Gorges Dam - with building potentially commencing next year. The gorge would lose approximately half its depth and more than 100,000 people will be displaced. And because the Chinese government are advocating this doom, the area is hardly promoted. There are no postacards and hardly any infrastructure at the start and finish of the walk.

So if you love mountaints, this death sentence is even another reason for me to say come here, and sooner rather than later. Snow-capped mountains, rapids rushing through the deep gorge, curious mountain goats, peace - need I say more. Even Michael Palin's loo lived up to the view.

Read all about it at the link above if you fancy. Again, pics will come soon.

x

Thursday 21 June 2007

Baking in Bagan

I've spent the last few days at perhaps Myanmar's most famous site, Bagan, home to 2500 temples, most of which are around 800 - 1000 years old.

I don't know if any other nation can have the same experience as an Australian when in the presence of such historical sites, only because our own documented history is so short. It's a marvel for us to gaze at the Notre Dame or the Colosseum, only because out big but small land was so far from being born into the nation that we know today. I don't mean to take away from the history of the aboriginals but aside from rock art, we have little to look at to understand their culture all those years ago and I, for one, wasn't taught it at school.

Sidetracked!

In short, Bagan was awesome. I ended up spending four days there, most of the time hiring a bicycle to ride through the temples, which are scattered over a 15 square kilometre (or thereabouts) area. I made some great new friends - a German couple and American guy - and of course with the Germans we had a cracking schedule organised. Our first day was the highlight, us being struck with beauty of seeing all of these temples scattered across the flat, hot plain. On our first day we also took a trip up the Ayerwaddy to see a more remote temple, and ended up having tea and fudge with a monk who was living in a cave.

When we were templed out, I shopped for lacquerware souveigneers and sand paintings (tradition lives on mum). We also took a half day trip up to Mt Popa. On top of this volcanic pinnacle is a temple to the nats, pagan spirits which the Burmese worshipped and appeased prior to the widespread adoption of Buddhism. The temple sits perched far above the earth like a prison castle in a Rapunzel-like fairytale - it is quite magical to look at.

Otherwise, there was more cycling, more Star Cola and more temples. All in 40 degree heat; we sweltered but apparently the temperature wasn't as bad as the week before when it had got up to 52! I dunno if that's the truth or just an American's translation from Fahrenheit to Celsius but nonetheless it was baking in old, beautiful Bagan.

No pics yet cos the internet is faaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarked in this country (if you even get electricity). xx

Friday 15 June 2007

An ode to Burmese feet

Yoga studies have made me consider feet. And the Burmese have some of the most handsome I've ever seen! The fact that they spend their life in thongs has a lot to do with it I think. Their feet are wide like a bridge, often being too wide for the average thong. And they have strong gaps between proud toes, not squashed or calloused by shoes that are too small or highheels. They are divine.

Despite their good-looks, the foot is a little maligned here. You aren't supposed to touch anyone with your foot and have to apologise profusely if you do. But in risk of becoming a social pariah (or just being considered a mad westerner) I've become obsessed by the beauty of the Burmese foot and have got anyone in the vicinity intrigued too.

And it made for a great conversation starter during the two day journey I've just done down the Ayerwaddy River. There, I saw a man with toes so strong they were like fingers and perfectly utilised in massaging someone's back.

The Ayerwaddy herself is a handsome and significant river. She has long connected the more remote and unreachable northern parts of the country with town centre Mandalay. The Americans and the British used her greatly in colonial times to ship up missionaries and ship out the teak, respectively. The missionaries were pretty successful because there is a strong Christian, particularly Baptist, contingent in the north; and sadly the river is still being used to transport the ripped-out wood today.

The north has been the most rewarding part of the trip so far. I took the 24 hour ride up to Myitkyina, which was quite comfortable in upper class. But the highlight was when I stepped onto the train platform and met a newly-wed couple - a Japanese girl and Burmese guy - who met and lived in Dehli. They'd come home to his parents to have their wedding blessed by the family's Baptist priest.

We met for a minute and they offered me a lift and by the end of the next minute, I'd been invited to the blessing. So in Burmese and I like to think true Christian style, I was a guest in their house, witnessing the prayers and speeches given by the family and joining in the hymns (in Burmese) to the couple. As you'd imagine, it felt pretty special to be a part of.

The next morning, I skipped to Bhamo on a bus. Not much to do in Bhamo except buy a boat ticket, drink beer and eat BBQ, so all was right in Caz's world. The next morning, I hopped skipped on the big barge back to Mandalay, meeting up with a previous travel companion, English Heather, by chance along the way.

We had a truely great time doing very little for a day and a half. We made friends with the kitchenhands, so mostly spent out time in the womb of the boat amongst towers of wheat bags drinking tea, tea, Burmese tea. The routine of read, drink, check out the scenery and show kids how to play with the camera was occasionally broken up by a stop at a village, which signalled it was time to eat. La dolce vita.

We had a great time with a local fan club too. They don't see that many of us up in the north and even fewer girls on their own. So we had a great time playing with the kids, taking pictures, allowing people to look at our books and photos (in Burma, they will just take your things to look at - nothing is private), and having our faces decorated with the local bark sunscreen / make up, called thanaka.

Heather sewed a bag, I ate Mangos with the smallest knife in the world (love you Lindsay) whilst English-girl drank tea with the biggest mug in the world, as mad westerners with strange ways do.

Plus we checked out the feet.

Saturday 9 June 2007

Capitalism as the new Imperialism

I'm fanning the cobwebs of my university memories with today's blog title. But on hitting Mandalay at 4am this morning, my first impression is that Chinese money is taking over the town and its culture.

Mandalay is only 150 years old, not so ancient for an Asian town, so I can understand that there aren't that many glorious buildings to see. It's unfortunate though that the street facades are being updated with ugly Chinese buildings; four-story monstrosities of mirror-like white tiles and concave balconies. At least the British colonial buildings have gradeur and style.

Admittedly I haven't yet visited Mandalay Palace, the residence of Myanmar's last (and quite disasterous) royal family who were overthrown by the British government in the 1940s. But the palace was all but destroyed in WWII due to fighting between the British and Japanese, and apparently it was re-constructed with concrete using forced labour in the 1990s. That makes the US$10 entry fee (which goes to the government) even harder to swallow.

There are many gold, jade and ruby jewellry outlets here, also likely Chinese run, using the gems that are being mined out of Mogok (the name could be a terrible place in a Tokien novel and considering that they use forced labour there too, it's apt). I get the impression that most of Myanmar's abundant natural resources are being dug up, sawn down, siphoned out and given away. Whilst I was in the Inle Lake area, trains of trucks would pass, piled with the old-growth teak wood that is being ripped out of the hills. Myanmar's copious resources of natural gas are apparently mostly send across the borders to China, India and Thailand, the profits of which are lining the government's pockets. Ditto the teak and the gems. And let's not raise the issue of opium.

Myanmar has been eyed off as a golden opportunity by many overseas nations - the British, the Nepalese gurkas on a smaller scale (see previous entry), and now the Chinese. It's so sad to see that in a country so vast in natural resources, none of it is put towards the development of the people.

End rant.

Thursday 7 June 2007

Laying low in Inlay

Being such a water lover, it refreshes the spirit to be close to a big body of water like that of Inlay Lake.

I spent the day yesterday on a long boat trip around the lake. It's a big body of water, stretching in a slither 22 kilometres north to south. Being a fresh water lake, there are plenty of birds, with some conservation wetlands stretching around the site. As well as for the birds, it's also a lifeforce for many of the local Shan people who fish, wash and live in houses protruding from the water on slits around the lake.

Many of the sights are touristy but interesting nonetheless. Our first stop was a weaving factory, where they produce fabric from the lotus flower. If you break and separate the stalk of the lotus plant, fine silk-like threads emerge. The fabric is tough, much like hemp. Although not producing the thread itself on site, they were weaving beautiful silk, lotus and cotton fabrics for sewing into scarves and longyis, the national dress skirt worm by both men and women. So, of course, I have a new scarf for my collection. :) Mum, I would love to take you to these fabric makers in Asia one day - you would love to see it I know.

Besides the weaving factory, we also visited cheroot, boat-making and silversmith outlets. Most of these places are more like show-rooms than working factories. The cheroot place in particular was very touristy, with eight girls arranged in two lines like a choir, quite different from the proper factory I saw near Bago (see previous post).

The highlight for me for the day was a spot called Indein, on the west side of the lake. It's not on the general tourist boat agenda, but we made a special stop. Dotted around this village are more than 1000 stupas, some which date back more than 2000 years. Amazingly, these stupas aren't protected or even cordoned off from the rest of the small village. People live near them and around them, and we wandered through backlanes and tilled fields on our own to get to some of them. One hillside spot was so magical I expected a snake to slither out and start speaking to me in tongues. The main pagoda is home to more than 1000 beautiful stupas in itself. Some date back centuries, and others are still being built today. One of my companions scoffed at the fact that some of the stupas are not old, but I loved the fact that this ancient site is still in use by the locals, evolving and growing like a living organism.

BTW, I leave Inlay tomorrow evening, heading for Mandalay. Big city hopefully equals cheaper internet. It's 3000 kyat here, 10 times as much as in Yangon. But it's good to be in touch.
Pics posted! Village life on the lake; Indein 2000 year-old temples; me in longboat; sunset Inlay-style.

x

Tuesday 5 June 2007

King of the road to a soy chai latte

I've well and truely crossed the one week mark in Myanmar (as now rolls off the tongue rather than the English 'Burma' ) and I think I've negotiated every kind of transportation available to 'foreigners' in the country. From the cycle trikshaw, where a poor soul carries either one or two back-to-back passengers, pillion-style through the crazy heat, to hitching a lift in a truck carrying black-market fuel to the outskirts of the country, it's been done. I've taken local buses between towns which means a 70 kilometer journey from Kalaw to the Pindaya caves (8094 buddhas in some limestone caves) took 12 hours there and back. The journey to Pindaya cost US$1 to get there, with 22 people and their luggage stuffed into the tray of a Hilux ute, with another 10 standing on the roof for the 1 1/2 hour journey. On the way back (there were no more buses after noon) it cost us US$10 to hire motos with drivers to get most of the way back, followed by hitching a lift with the truck between the last two towns.

To assure you mum, it's safe here. There aren't too many travellers but there are enough to get by with. I travelled with the intrepid Belgians (sic?) for a couple of days - Golden Rock and Bago - making some friends that are welcoming us to their home near Gent anytime we choose. Bring on Belgium pancakes, I say.

After Bago, I made it to Kalaw for some trekking in the hills. The ride took 16 hours via big bus. When it comes to the roads, size matters in Myanmar and buses are at the top of the food chain. The big bus journeys are characterised by a soundtrack of funny, terrible karaoke videos and the bus drivers honking their way through the towns. On the three hour bus ride from Bago to Kalaw, we heard a one music video no less than eight times. They also use their horn to tell people (scooters, bikes, pedestrials, minivans, trucks - anyone smaller) to get out of their way, and then to thank them for getting out of their way. Noise is a constant.

Kalaw was an interesting, but sonambulous place. The LP describes it as one of the most backpacker-friendly towns in Myanmar, but other than a couple of guesthouses and trekking guides, I didn't see any evidence of this. No internet (again). US$5 a minute to make an international phone call. But there were many Nepalese people in the area, which was curious and meant great food plus an authentic soy chai latte. Most of the 150 Nepalese families in the town are descendants of the gurkhas who came to Myanmar with the Allied Forces to fight off the Japanese during the Second World War. Seeing an oppurtunity in the fertility of the planes, many stayed behind of their own will to farm the land, not being provided (even today) with any assistance or land from the British or now, the Burmese. These Nepalese speak four languages - Nepalese and Hindi at home, plus Burmese, English and often the languages of those Burmese tribes that live in the surrounding hills. It puts us Aussies to shame!

Yesterday and today we went trekking to see some of these tribes - Palaung, Danu and Tangu-Yo people that live in the surrounding hills. Fortunately for them, agriculture and a little tourism (not now) thanks to their proximity to Kalaw is bringing more wealth to them. The downside is that it seemed to me that they were not living so much their tribal ways, even as much as that of the displaced (Burmese) Lahu and Karen tribes I visited in northern thailand last year.

Global warming is another concern that is noticable in this cooler, higher area. There are cobras around that have never been seen before. They can grow mangos now. Malaria is more commonplace thanks to the greater number of mosquitos.

On finishing the trek, a kiwi, english lass (current travel companions) and me headed to Inle Lake this evening, which is much more used to seeing tourists. I'm staying at the 'Little Inn' for the next couple of nights at least.

So I'm well and safe. Sending happy birthday messages to Miss Wong. You must be a whole 23 darling - may you have an awesome birthday and year.

Love to all. Cazx

PS: Richie, I think there is a photocopied version of the Myanmar LP in the bookshelf in the hallway. That might give a bit of insight into where I am, with you in Soi Chai Lattes. xx

Saturday 2 June 2007

Bustling Bago

So out of Yangon and into the bustle of the real Burma. It feels good. After umming and ahhing, I made the decision to come to Bago, site of two reclining Buddhas and many others in between. It's certainly rates a mention in the Lonely Planet, but it being the off season, there aren't many of us foreigners around.

Neither English, nor hospitality, is scarce in this country, and as soon as I was off the bus, me and backpack were on the back of a scooter for an afternoon of touring the buddhist sites in the vicinity. There are 42 monasteries or monuments in Bago. Our first stop was a bustling study monastery, home to more than 1200 monks who study for 20 years within its grounds. It was something special to stand in a room packed with monks chanting their studies.

Following the monastery, we visited another seven sites, including two reclining buddhas, one of which was first built more than a century ago, the other of which is only four years old.

Perhaps the highlight of the afternoon though, was a cheroot factory. More a two story house in a back lane, about 100 women work from 7am until 7pm packing cigars for the local market. They get one kyat for one cigar, which is about one cent, and depending on their speed, they'll get through 1000 - 1200 in a day. So that's a dollar in earnings a day.

Despite the hard work, they were full of spirit and laughter. One girl asked me if I had a boyfriend, so Richie, your picture got passed around more than 50 hands to which there was lots of exclamations of 'chore', handsome. :) I managed to find Miles a bride too - they were all keen!

Last night I spent the night at Kinpun, about three hours west of Bago. After some waiting for the bus, we luckly bribed a bus full of Thai tourists to take us up to the heralded golden rock yesterday. It was quite a sight and indeed is perched on the mountainside by a hair's breadth.

So I've found a couple of Belguim friends who quote 'lekka' at every meal, Ma. We heading north on the bus very shortly, me to Kalaw for some hopeful trekking (depending on the leaches) and them to Inlay Lake, which is not so far. Hopefully I'll write again from one of them.

PS. Have a super last day at work babe. Thinking of you, pink pictures and pink presents on the fridge. xxx

Tuesday 29 May 2007

Buddhas, balancing boulders and blogging

I am notoriously slow up the uptake of things, so slow usually that I like to think that I make whatever the 'thing' is cool on its retro time around. Howorthians will foldly recall the example of The Hoff, prior to his eating-a-burger-off-the-floor days of course.

And again another example. It appears that rather than spending my money on beers on this trip, it will be blogging. As a fairly private (?!) person, I've eschewed blogging as an outlet for showoffs or know-it-alls. But now that I've been forced by the Burmese government to take up blogging so I can keep my mum informed of where I am (no Optus roaming; no mobile phones; no gmail, hotmail, Yahoo or any other free web-based email), I'm embracing this blogging bag like any good PR that likes the sound of her own voice.

So, mum, tomorrow morning I leave Yangon for Bago, which is about 80 kms north. There is a a reclining buddha there that is 55 metres long, and reports that another (very ancient) one of more than 70 meters has just been finished. Or at least if my calculations that my trusty Lonely Planet is at least two years old are correct.

From their I'll take the bus to spend the night at Kinpun (potentially the Sea Star Guest House), a few hours down the road. This means I can get up with the crows to see the Golden Rock at Kyaiktiyo, a boulder that is apparently precariously balanced on the side of a cliff. The Burmese like this 'hair of Buddha' game, and they say that the thing that is keeping the boulder from tumbling down the side of the cliffside, is another of his hair's, encased in a little stupa on top of the rock.

From Kyaiktiyo, I intend on catching the bus to Kapaw. It's an 18 or 12 hour ride depending on what you read / who you listen to, so I'll be getting value for my ticket money. I'm hoping there is Internet in Kapaw as apparently it's a backpacker dropoff for trekking in the area. That's what I intend to do too, for a couple of days, and from their I'll probably head to Inlay Lake. But I'm hoping you'll hear from me by then.

Long live the criss cross roadway





On my second and a half day in Yangon, one of the things that I'm still struck by is how the British tried to impose order and hierarchy, Queen Victoria style, here. For a city perched on delta land beside a long and winding river, and just out of the reaches of the jungle, they were ambitious. And as I've gazed up at some of the seven-story colonial buildings, I've thought that not only were they ambitious, but these buildings are a sign of the absolute arrogance that marked the British entry to Burma.

The irony is that these magnificent colonial buildings are now either being used by the very un-democratic, un-British military government, or have been taken over by squatters and the trees. There is a huge maroon and yellow building on Bogyoke Aung San Rd who's only use appears to be to house some squatters that bathe in a brown bath in the grounds by the roadside, and wash their longyis to dry in the midday heat.

One thing I am grateful to the British for here is the criss cross of roadways. The roads in the centre work in a very logical north south, east west system. At the epicentre of it all is the 2000 year old Sule Paya (pagoda), a golden stupa that is said to contain a hair of the buddha himself. I walked around the stupa today. It is filled with shrines, each to a different animal that also corresponds to the morning of a person's birth. So you pray to the animal-god for your day, in my case (Tuesday), the lion.

Of course, the main golden stupa in Yangon is the Shwedagon Paya. It's located about 3 kms north of town, which is a fair trek from where I'm staying. I went to visit the pagoda yesterday, but mainly only had luck in seeing it's smaller sister, pagoda.

As a girl travelling on my own, I'm getting a fair share of attention, which in Burmese style is meant in a friendly way (don't get scared mum, ain't no one is trying to accost me) but it's mostly still unwelcome because in my grumpiness with the 40 degree heat I'd rather be on my own. At the pagoda, it was no exception, and I realised that I've got to be rather ballsy if I don't want someone to follow me around to explain things, to then be obliged to pay them at the end of the talk. I think I offended an older man today when I told him I didn't want him to arrange for me to pray to the Lion God, I could do it myself. I'm trying to find the line between politeness and firmness, but despite the guilt, I think I've got to get some gumption to look after myself.

So I might go back to the Shwedagon this evening, pay the $5 fee to the government, and commune with the Buddha at this most holy site for the Burmese. My original intention for this trip was for it to be a spiritual journey so I suppose, despite the annoyances of heat, prices-for-foreigners, and some over-friendly locals interested in a rare-ish SWF, that Yangon is a good place to start.