Thursday 22 November 2012

Inle Lake (1), Stilt Houses, Fishermen and Non-Swimming Buddhas: Myanmar/Burma Part 10

Fishing, Gardening and Living On and Around Lake Inle

Nyaungshwe: The Shortest of Visits

Myanmar

A short drive from Heho brought us to Nyaungshwe the main settlement on (or more accurately near) Lake Inle.

Nyaungshwe is a small town, and we found ourselves at the docks almost before we realised we had arrived. There was much frenetic activity and our cases were manhandled from car to water’s edge by unseen hands as we were led to a waiting boat.

Like most passenger boats on the lake it was a long canoe. Local people usually sit on the floor, but tourist boats have four seats set one in front of another while the boatman perches at the back beside his long tailed outboard, the propeller set so that its tip breaks the surface of the water - there is a lot of weed in the lake and nobody wants to get tangled in it.

Leaving the dock at Nyaungshwe

The Canal to Inle Lake

The town is at the end of a wide canal and we pottered down it for twenty minutes rounding rafts of water hyacinth and passing reed beds and stilt houses before we reached the lake itself. The houses are the homes of the Intha people, who live around, over and somtimes on the lake.

Stilt houses beside the canal from Nyaungshwe

Surrounded by green hills, Lake Inle is placid, shallow and a very pleasing pale blue.

Fishing on Inle Lake

Emerging onto the lake we found ourselves amid a cluster of fishermen. Intha fishermen use canoes smaller than the one we were in and lacking an outboard. They stand on the stern sometimes setting out nets in groups, sometimes using a single net like the one in the picture below.

Fisherman, Lake Inle

The boats are manoeuvred by means of a single paddle, which may be held in the hand for balance (as above), but when they row they use one leg, leaving both hands free for their nets. Somehow they seem to maintain hold of the paddle without actually grasping it. Their sense of balance is wonderful. Perched on one leg at the end of the boat they pull on their nets or push on their paddle without the slightest wobble. Sometimes the paddle becomes less of an implement for rowing and more an extension to their leg, and one with which they seem effortlessly able to walk on water. We watched them here and at various points on the lake over the next two days and every time we marvelled at how each fisherman was so at one with his boat and the water.

Almost walking on water, Lake Inle

At present they fish for real, and the man who came to show us his catch (and yes, he was wearing a Chelsea shirt) was merely being welcoming and friendly. Lake Inle has many tourists, and the numbers are growing; two or three lakeside resort hotels already exist, and several more are at the planning stage. The fishermen who happily pose for photos for nothing will soon realise they can make money from it, and indeed more money than they can out of fishing. Before long their fishing, like the cormorant fishermen on China’s Li River, will merely be a tourist attraction. That will be a sad day, but it is probably inevitable.

Part of the catch, Lake Inle

Ywama, a Village Literally 'on' the Lake

We scooted across the lake to the stilt villages of Ywama and Tha Lay......

Ywama, Lake Inle
Coming home from market, Ywama

.....with their floating gardens where they grow squash, tomatoes and flowers.

Through the floating gardens, Ywama, Lake Inle

Tha Lay, Mr Toe's Restaurant and Phaung Daw Oo Temple

We approached Phaung Daw Oo temple, but before our visit it seemed appropriate to pull up at the landing stage of Mr Toe’s restaurant.

Mr Toe's immediately on our left, Phaung Daw Oo straight ahead, Ywama, Lake Inle

All the restaurants around the lake are tourist oriented, but we had a pleasant place to sit overlooking the water and the temple, and the menu looked interesting. After a fried tofu starter we had ‘special’ lake fish with a tomato salad and smoked aubergine. We were not totally surprised to find the fish tasted distinctly muddy. Sue had a simpler spiced version which was better, the heat disguising the muddiness.

'Special Lake fish' Mr Toe's restaurant, Ywama, Lake Inle

It was a very short boat trip to the temple. On the landing stage men were selling books of gold leaf....

Outside Phaung Daw Oo Temple, Tha Lay, Lake Inle - I seem to have missed all the gold leaf salesmen!

...while inside the customers (and as at Mandalay it was men only) were queuing to apply the gold leaf to five small Buddhas statues. The little statues had been so covered that it was hard to discern their original shape.

Applying gold leaf to the Buddha images, Phaung Daw Oo Temple, Lake Inle

Moored next to the temple is the barge - reminiscent of a huge bath duck - on which the gilded Buddhas are taken on an annual parade around the lake. Some years ago it capsized, dumping the Buddhas into the water. Lake Inle is shallow and four were quickly recovered but the fifth was feared lost. A few days after the survivors were returned to the temple the fifth miraculously turned up on its own, covered in weed but otherwise undamaged. No doubt there are local people who believe the literal truth of this story, and that is how Sue told it. I did not ask what she believed.

The Buddhas' barge, Phaung Daw Oo Temple, Ywama, Lake Inle

Nga Phe (the Jumping Cat) Monastery

Back in the boat we re-crossed the villages.....

Travelling can be such hard work.

and the floating gardens.....

A floating gardener, Lake Inle

...to the Nga Phe Chaung Monastery, an impressive teak building with golden shrines and huge wooden pillars, better known as the ‘Jumping Cat Monastery’ after a monk trained the temple cats to jump through hoops to order. There are many videos on YouTube and this link is to just one of them. When the religious authorites found out what was happening, they put a stop to as, they said, monks had more important tasks than training cats.

Nga Phe Chaung, the (former) Jumping Cat Monastery, Lake Inle

There are no more jumping cats, but there were plenty of monks lounging around doing nothing. There are thousands of monks in Myanmar, some like those we met at Moe Goak, are impressive people doing important work, others, seem to lie around in the shade, occasionally fanning themselves but largely doing very little. All live off the generosity of their fellow citizens, but some seem more worthy of it than others.

Inside Nga Phe Chaung Monastery

There is a small market round the back and at one stall I found a tee-shirt that fitted, a rarity in Southeast Asia. I did not like the design and the woman largely dismantled her stall finding another one in that size. 10,000, she said when I had OKed the design. 10,000 Kyat is £8, which is a silly price, so I offered 2,000, which is equally silly. Searching under a pile of tee-shirts, she unearthed a card printed with a number grid – a bargaining aid for those without a common language. She pointed at 8,000. Without my glasses I am not good at counting 0s, so my next offer was 40,000. This caused some hilarity, but fortunately she did not hold me to it and we finally settled on 6,000 Kyat which seemed to make everybody happy.

Memorial Markers and Fishing Techniques on the Way to our Resort Hotel

We pottered back across the lake passing the memorial marker at the point where the golden barge had unfortunately tipped its precious cargo into the lake.

Memorial where the Buddha's barge capsized, Lake Inle

A little further on we encountered a group of fishermen vigorously slapping the water with their paddles to drive fish into their nets. In apparent defiance of the laws of physics none of them fell in.

Fishermen slapping the water with their paddles, Lake Inle

We arrived at our hotel, one of the growing number of resort hotels around the lake. The setting was magnificent and gardens were impressively well kept, but the cottages unfortunately reminded me of Butlin’s.

Arriving at our lakeside hotel, Lake Inle

Khaung Daing Village, Keepie-Uppie with a Rattan Ball and Moonshadows

We were shown to our chalet and while Lynne had a brief snooze, I went for a walk. Sue had said that Khaung Daing village was not far away and I thought I would take a look.

Leaving the hotel, I followed the road through a wood, passing the entrance to another lakeside hotel and a bamboo shack apparently used as a very basic bar. Twenty minutes later I reached the village. In the centre was a collection of gold painted stupas which ten days ago would have impressed me greatly, but now I knew that every village in Myanmar has something comparable, I had become blasé - to the extent of not even photographing them.

I did, though, photograph a group of boys playing keepie-uppie with a rattan football. This is a national sport in Myanmar, played wherever there is a space and a bit of free time. The same game is played in Vietnam, but there they use a sort of elongated shuttlecock.

Playing keepie-uppie with a rattan 'football', Khaung Daing, Lake Inle

I was on the point of turning back when I finally came across a smart new restaurant, obviously aimed at the tourist market. As this was the only alternative to the hotel restaurant - and hotel restaurants are almost invariably the best way of paying high prices for very moderate food - it seemed a good idea to eat here.

I walked back and in due course we both set out for Khaung Daing. It was a fair stroll through the hotel garden just to reach the gates which Lynne remarked looked a bit like the entrance to Jurassic Park. Darkness was settling over the wood outside, but we pressed on and duly reached the village. The restaurant had a few other customers, mainly westerners escaping from the big hotels, as we were. The food was not particularly good (pork with potatoes, rice, string beans and spring rolls with bananas in syrup to follow) nor was it particularly cheap.

Hotel gardens by Lake Inle

The walk back, though, was magical. Once out of the village there were no artificial lights, except for the headlight of a motorbike that puttered past, but we saw our way by the extraordinary brightness of the full moon, our every pace mimicked by our obedient moon shadows. The hotel gates were closed and bolted, and I did not fancy our chances of climbing over them, but a friendly security man popped up from somewhere to let us in, giving us the usual beaming Burmese smile.

Myanmar, Land of Gold


Pindaya, Heho and the Five Day Market: Myanmar/Burma Part 9

A Cave Full of Buddha Images and a Market Full of Good Things

21/11/2012

Mandalay to Heho by Plane

Myanmar

Mandalay’s airport may be relatively new - it opened in 2000 - and may boast the longest runway in southeast Asia, but the arrangements for domestic flights were as 1970s as those at Yangon.

Heho is a short hop away, 40 minutes flying time, but the road journey would have been lengthy indeed. The airport – originally a World War II airbase used (and bombed) by both the Allies and the Japanese - is tiny, just a runway and parking place for planes from where we walked to the airport building. There were no baggage carousels; a man pushed a trolley into the arrivals hall and we grabbed our cases.

Heho to Pindaya by Car

We were met by Sue and her driver and set off on the hour’s drive westward to Pindaya.

The real mountains start east of Heho, but we were already over 1000m higher than at Mandalay. The humidity was much lower and, despite the brilliant sunshine, the air was cooler, though still warm.

Again we noticed something strangely English about the countryside. The patchwork of small fields reminded us of England before the hedgerows were grubbed up. As in English upland areas the lower slopes of the hillside are cultivated while above the land resembles open moorland- at least from a distance. The colours were right, too, the brown of a ploughed field was just the right shade and the bright yellow sesame was easily mistakable for rape. I could go on about distant stupas rising like church spires, but I do not want to push this too far.

Between Heho and Pindaya

We stopped for a late lunch in another restaurant in a garden, though this one had a nursery and garden centre attached. Maybe earlier it, too, would have been crowded with tour groups, but at three o’clock we had it to ourselves.

The chicken with cashew nuts and ginger was pleasant, if uninspiring, but it was a relaxing place to sit and chat. Sue was young, elegant and attractive, though as she talked we steadily revised her age upwards. She was married, she said, and her husband worked in a managerial position in one of the Lake Inle hotels. She also had two children, the older being 10. She was a breath of fresh air after our Mandalay guide as she not only spoke openly and expressed opinions, but also listened to what we said in reply.

Between Heho and Pindaya - brown earth, yellow sesame and stupas like church spires

I asked her about the (rather unEnglish) vineyards I thought I had seen. ‘We have two wineries,’ she said, ‘one makes French wine, the other German.’ I must have looked quizzical because she quickly explained that one employs a French and the other a German winemaker.

We continued to Pindaya, the road becoming smaller and more basic as we neared the town.

Nearing Pindaya

The Golden Cave of Pindaya

Many years ago an evil Nat in the shape of a spider captured seven princesses and imprisoned them in a cave. Fortunately a gallant prince heard their cries and came to their rescue, killing the spider with an arrow. ‘Pinguya,’ he shouted (‘I have taken the spider’) and the event is commemorated with this Disneyesque artwork.

Pinguya

Over time, Pinguya was corrupted into Pindaya and the cave – now known as the Golden Cave - became a place of pilgrimage. The cave entrance lurks behind the Shwe Oo Min Pagoda high on a limestone ridge overlooking a small lake and the modern town of Pindaya. As so often in Myanmar there is a covered walkway for pilgrims to climb from the valley, and as so often in Myanmar, we drove up the road in comfort.

The covered walkway and the lake, Pindaya

We had been expecting a cave full of Buddhas, but that did not stop an involuntary gasp when we actually saw it. The cave extends over 150m into the hillside and along the paths, up the cave sides and in every recess and on every ledge there is a Buddha, some 8054 of them (I did not count, I am taking Sue’s word for it).

Inside the Golden Cave, Pindaya

Some are large, some are small, some old, some new. Many bear the donor’s name and the date of donation. The earliest date is 1773 and although some may be older, they are not thought to be more than 20 or 30 years earlier.

The Golden Cave, Pindaya

New ones are still being added, so 8054 may already be out of date. Modern Taiwanese donors seem to prefer the higher ledges and although most plaques are written in Burmese, not all are. We found one Buddha donated by a family from Burnley.

The Golden Cave, Pindaya

I still doubt that this is what the Buddha himself wanted, but it does make an impressive sight and even this old skeptic found the level of devotion involved surprisingly moving.

The Golden Cave, Pindaya

Paper Making in Pindaya

A short drive from the foot of the hill is a paper factory. As darkness fell we watched the pulp being pounded by hand…..

Pounding the pulp, Pindaya paper factory. A smile is the default expression for most Burmese - but not all

….. and leaves and flowers being added…..

Adding flower petals, Pindaya paper factory

…… to make heavy duty decorative paper used for parasols and lamps.

The paper is taken for drying, Pindaya paper factory

In the same factory the frames are turned on a lathe powered by foot.

Making a parasol frame, Pindaya paper factory

Dinner and Breakfast in Pindaya

Our hotel was barely a kilometre away. Welcoming and helpful staff led us to a cluster of single storey buildings where the rooms were basic but clean and comfortable. Sue was staying in the same hotel and when we asked for advice about local restaurants she suggested the three of us should walk to a restaurant beside the lake.

Some finished products, Pindaya paper factory

The Green Tea Restaurant was a twenty minute stroll away. We sat in bamboo chairs at bamboo tables on a bamboo terrace beside Pone Taloke Lake. Across the water was a floodlit golden stupa and, later in the evening, a firework display. Lynne wanted a light meal, so settled for lentil soup but I thought fish in peanut sauce promised to be an interesting local dish. It was fine, if not as exciting as I had hoped. The setting was idyllic, but enjoyed by only four foreigners and a handful of locals. The restaurant was clearly set out with the tourist trade in mind, /b> few foreigners stay in Pindaya, most visiting the Golden Cave on bus trips from the Lake Inle resort hotels.

22/11/2012

At breakfast next morning Sue was given a fried egg on a pile of chick peas and rice while, without consultation, we were brought the sweet, flaccid bread and dubious spread that passes for a ‘western breakfast’ throughout East Asia. Our request to take it away and bring a proper Myanmar breakfast was met with incredulity. Surely we cannot be the first foreigners to object to this assumption about our preferences. A little gentle persistence eventually produced the required result.

Back to Heho

We checked out and drove down Pindaya’s main street. Much as I enjoy, dirty, sweaty cities like Mandalay, I thought at the time that if I had to live in Myanmar (a strictly hypothetical musing) I would chose a small town by a blue lake surrounded by rolling green hills, in other words Pindaya. Lynne’s photograph, taken through the car window, makes the town look scruffier than I remember, and the camera is probably more accurate than my memory.

Main street, Pindaya

We drove the direct route back to Heho, which may be shorter but takes longer as the road is unsurfaced. Twice we were held up by ambling herds of cows; some of their human companions gave us a cheery wave while others stared as though we had two heads each. For over an hour we wound between the fields and around the gentle green hills, the only other traffic being the occasional bullock cart. For those in no hurry there can be few pleasanter roads to travel.

The only other traffic the occasional bullock cart, Pindaya to Heho

The 'Five Day Market' at Heho

Despite its airport, Heho is only a big village and 80% of the time is of no great interest; for the other 20% it hosts the regional Five Day Market, so called as it moves round a circuit on a five day rotation. Today was Heho’s day.

Cattle Market

I love walking round cattle markets -obviously I am in no position to buy anything - but I do like to see a fine beast looking at its best. This bull impressed me….

A fine bull in the Five Day Market, Heho

…. and so did this handler’s hat. Would I look a prat in a hat like that? Probably.

A fine hat in the Five Day Market, Heho

Produce Market

We left the cattle and crossed the road to the produce market. We bought tea from this stall, from the big white sack. We kept a little and gave the rest away as gifts. I now know that it tastes like something curled up and died in the sack, but nobody has said anything. I expect the recipients merely raised their eyebrows to the ceiling and quietly threw it away.

Tea stall, Five Day Market, Heho

Fruit and vegetables of high quality were on display in vast quantities.

Fruit and veg, Five Day Market, Heho

Pao women, dressed in black with bright checked headdresses, red shoulder bags and big baskets to carry their purchases come to the market from the hill villages. Some come on their own….

Pao woman, Five Day Market, Heho

….others arrive in groups.

A group of Pao women arrive at the Five Day Market, Heho

The market has inevitably become a tourist attraction, and several foreign faces can be seen in these pictures. For the moment, though, it is a place where local people sell to local people, nothing is specifically aimed at tourists. With more visitors every year, stalls of tourist tat will almost certainly start to appear and that, in time, will be the end of the Five Day Market. Tourism is for ever condemned to kill the things it loves.

Armed with tea and peanuts we returned to the car and set off for Nyaungshwe and Lake Inle

Myanmar, Land of Gold

Tuesday 20 November 2012

U Bein's Bridge, Sagaing and Inwa: Myanmar/Burma Part 8

The World's Longest Teak Bridge and Two more Former Royal Capitals

There was an earthquake during the night, an aftershock of the more serious quake the week before. It did no more than rattle the crockery, but as there was no crockery in our room, we slept through it.

Myanmar

U Bein's Bridge

In the morning we again drove south through Amarapura. Just before leaving Greater Mandalay we paused at U Bein’s Bridge.

U Bein was mayor of Amarapura in 1850 when the capital of Myanmar moved there from nearby Inwa (and before it moved on to Manadalay). Using teak from Inwa’s redundant royal palace he built a bridge across Lake Taungthaman which, at 1.2km, is claimed to be the longest teak bridge in the world.

On U Bein's Bridge, Amarapura

It is an important passageway for locals, but also a major tourist attraction. The first 100m were packed with a couple of busloads of tourists and lined with beggars. Beggars are relatively uncommon in Myanmar but a dozen women, some with children, most with disfigurements or impairments to their hands or feet sat along the bridge. To my untrained eye their problems looked like the effects of leprosy. In 1995 the WHO estimated there were between 2 and 3 million people in the world permanently disabled by leprosy. There should be none; cheap and effective treatment has been available for over sixty years.

We distributed a few small banknotes. We know this does not solve the problem, but maybe it made somebody’s day a little easier - and it salved our consciences about being members of a society that allows such unnecessary suffering.

We did not have to walk far to lose the bus tours. After a couple of hundred metres our guide worked out that we intended walking all the way across and elected to sit and wait in one of the shelters.

Boats on Lake Taungthaman

Lake Taungthaman was a clear light blue and as flat as a mirror. Fishing boats were dotted about in the hazy distance while beneath us there was dry(ish) land. The water level rises and falls with the seasons, and in November it was low enough to allow a man with a buffalo to plough a field that would later be submerged.

Ploughing a temporary field, U Bein's Bridge, Amarapura

Ducks are also farmed in great quantity, and below us a young duckherd was moving his large and noisy flotilla.

On the Road to Mandalay
Where the old flotilla lay
Duckherd under U Bein's Bridge, Amarapura

By the time we reached the far side there was only us and a few locals who were using the bridge as old U Bein had intended.

Taking home the shopping
U Bein's Bridge, Amarapura

Some of the 1086 teak pillars have been replaced by concrete, some are clearly no longer capable of doing the job they were designed for but, by and large, the bridge is structurally sound and largely original.

On our way back we stopped at one of the shelters where a painter was working. We liked his watercolours so we bought a couple, agreeing a price of 2000 Kyat each (£1.60). He then suggested we take 3 for 5000. We could not resist.

Painter. U Bein's Bridge, Amarapura

Sagaing

Leaving Amarapura we crossed the Irrawaddy on the 1.7km Yadanabon Bridge. Unlike U Bein’s bridge this is a product of 21st century engineering. The Ava Bridge, 600m downstream, built by the British in 1924 is not capable of carrying heavy modern lorries.

The temple city of Sagaing sits on the west bank of the Irrawaddy some 20km from Mandalay. It was capital of the minor Sagaing Kingdom in the 14th century, and had a brief spell as the royal Burmese capital in the 1760s.

A Pottery

We started our visit not at a temple but at a pottery run by a cheerful group of people in a yard surrounded by storehouses of woven bamboo.

A cheerful group of people in a yard surrounded by storehouses of woven rattan, Sagaing

The potters’ wheel has been around for 5000 years, and although we now expect them to have electric motors, they have been turned manually for most of their existence. Here the potter propped her wheel on a couple of bricks beside a pile of clay and squatted in front of it. Her assistant squatted opposite and turned the wheel by hand. We were watching pottery as it might have been done a thousand years ago, but the result was as good as anything produced on a modern wheel.

Throwing a pot, Sagaing

Another employee was making a large water jar of the type we had seen by the roadside in Yangon and Bagan. Starting with a hollowed out ball of clay she beat it into shape using a paddle, which also left a decoration on the surface. It may lack the magic of throwing a pot on a wheel, but there was remarkable skill in taking something so roughly made and giving it form.

Beating out a water pot, Sagaing

The potter’s assistant then showed us her party trick - carrying six water jars at once. Large, unwieldy and heavy as they are this was quite a feat, though how far she would have got with them is another matter.

Party piece, Sagaing Pottery

A Silversmiths

We moved on to a silversmiths’ arriving at the same time as a tour bus. Disappointingly, they seemed more interested in sales than demonstrating their craft, but we bought a few presents to take home anyway.

Temples on Sagaing Hill

From the silversmith’s we drove up Sagaing Hill. The hill is studded with temples, many of which can be visited by slogging up the covered walkway which climbs its eastern flank. We took the easy way and soon arrived at Umin Thounez, literally ‘30 Caves’ but actually a brightly-coloured, crescent-shaped colonnade. Entering through the door marked ‘IN’ (the other 29 ‘caves’ have metal grilles across them so we were unlikely to make a mistake!)……

Umin Thounez, Sagaing

... we found ourselves faced with a crescent of 45 gold painted Buddhas.

Umin Thounez, Sagaing

Ten minutes in the car took us to Soon U Ponya Shin Temple on the southernmost peak of Sagaing Hill. It is the most important temple in Sagaing and, as the Lonely Planet reports, was reputedly ‘built in a single night by the King’s faithful minister Ponya in a superhuman flurry of activity inspired by a magical Buddha relic he had found in a betel-nut box.’ Or maybe it wasn’t.

Inside there is a ‘wish-fulfilling Buddha’…..

'Wish Fulfilling Buddha', Soon U Ponya Shin Temple, Sagaing

……while in the courtyard is a 30m high gilded stupa originally built in 1312.

Stupa, Soon U Ponya Shin Temple, Sagaing

From the terrace we could look across the Irrawaddy with the new Yadanabon Bridge in front of the older Ava Bridge.

Yadanabon (front) and Ava Bridges over the Irrawady from Soon U Ponya Shin Temple, Sagaing

There were, as usual a few stalls around the terrace. As I had been struggling with my broken sunglasses, this seemed a good moment to replace them. I did not think I could match the £4 ‘genuine’ Raybans I bought in Ho Chi Minh and broke in Bagan but I found a reasonable pair and asked a price. ‘3000 Kyat,’ the girl said (£2.40). Only after I had paid did I realise they, too, were ‘genuine’ Raybans. I must go back to Ho Chi Minh and tell that bloke he ripped me off.

To Inwa for Lunch

It was now lunch time and we would have been happy to eat in Sagaing, but our guide was adamant that we should move on to the ‘very good’ restaurant at Inwa. Against our better judgement we agreed.

We left Sagaing, crossing back over the Irrawaddy on the old Ava Bridge and then leaving the main road and descending to the bank of the Myitnge River which joins the Irrawaddy a little downstream. We took a small boat across to Inwa, which sits on an island formed by the digging of a canal between the two rivers.

At the Inwa landing station a crowd, a couple of hundred tourists and dozens of horse-drawn carriages and their drivers, milled about.

A short walk took us to the restaurant where several tour groups were settling down to eat at long tables. One of the advantages of not being part of a group is that you can avoid these tourist feeding stations. We had successfully made this point yesterday, but now our guide chose to ignore us. Regardless of what we said, this was, she was sure, where we really wanted to eat. The vast majority of guides listen to their clients and try to provide the sort of experience they want. Just occasionally we encounter one who believes they know what we want better than we do; they have met a lot of foreigners and they know what foreigners like. Our other guides in Myanmar, the young, enthusiastic Swe in Yangon, the thoughtful, well-informed Tin in Bagan and the charming and entrepreneurial Sue we would meet later in Heho, were all excellent in their different ways. Here we had one who confused being foreign with being stupid and knew that foreigners are best treated as children - in our case, rebellious and naughty children.

Rant over. I must admit that it was an attractive restaurant, the tables set out in a pleasant garden shaded by trees sporting paper ornaments. The problem remained that it was still mass catering and, worse, it was mass catering for foreigners – we did not go to Burma to eat pizza. Having crossed the river there was no way out, so we settled for Shan noodle soup.

On the Road to Mandalay
Where the flying fishes play,
Ornament in tree, restaurant, Inwa

Inwa, also known as Ava, was our fourth former capital of the day, and the sixth of the trip, though we never did get to Naypyidaw, the current capital. Inwa was the capital for 360 years on five separate occasions between 1365 and 1842, and Burma/Myanmar was known to Europeans as the Kingdom of Ava until well into the 19th century. Largely deserted after a series of major earthquakes, it now consists of a couple of villages on a rural, swampy, stupa-dotted island.

Inwa by Horse and Buggy

Horse and buggy is the only way to get round the island which did not please me greatly, my eyes had only just returned to normal after their allergic reaction to the horse in Bagan. This time the guide sat at the front and I sat as far away from the animal as possible – I am glad to report I just about got away with it.

We clopped off down the lane, through a village and past the heavily restored ‘Hair Washing Gate’, a vestige of the old palace and the place the king used to appear to have his hair ceremonially washed.

Village, Inwa

Yedanasini Pagoda

We soon arrived at Yedanasini Pagoda…..

Yedanasini Pagoda, Inwa

….. where an impressive if rather weather beaten old Buddha sits in the shade of a huge flame tree behind some ancient brick stupas.

A weather beaten old Buddha, Yedanasini Pagoda, Inwa

Completely open air, Yedanasini is a beautiful and atmospheric spot. At the back we found another painter. He was working in black on shiny white paper and although he had a limited range, producing the same – well almost the same – picture time after time, some of them were impressive. Two pictures for 5000 Kyat seemed a bargain, more expensive than this morning’s water colours, but larger. [Update. They now hang in the hall; the first thing you see as you come through the front door.]

Painter, Yedanasini Pagoda, Inwa

Bagaya Monastery

A little further on the Bagaya Monastery is another teak building, this one containing a small but rather fine gilded Buddha.

Gilded Buddha, Bagaya Monastery

At the back of the monastery was a schoolroom. Four small boys had been isolated in the front row and were being berated by a kneeling monk using the quiet yet insistent ‘not angry, but disappointed’ tone beloved of primary school teachers everywhere. Two others knelt behind looking worried but grateful that whatever the mischief was, they had not been part of it. Three or four older boys lounged at the back, rather enjoying the spectacle.

Schoolroom, Bagaya Monastery

Lecture over, it was time to dismiss the class. One by one the innocent two were called forward. They knelt before the monk and bowed their heads. After a few words with each he handed over a selection from a little pile of presents, a toy car, some pencils, crayons and sweets. They scooped up their booty and scuttled happily back to their places.

The four miscreants watched, wondering when, or if, their turn would come. The monk turned his attention to the older boys who came forward one by one. Then he paused, looking at the floor; the wide eyes of the four miscreants fixed anxiously upon him. He looked up and all four leapt to their feet and moved forward at once. He sent three back.

Bagaya Monastery, Inwa

The first received a little lecture and then, to his evident relief, his presents. The second was called up, and then the third leaving only the ringleader behind, his face close to panic as his friends scooped all that was left of the pile of presents.

The last did not wait to be called, he stood up immediately and looked forlornly at the monk. He approached uncertainly, knelt and bowed, tense with anticipation. There were a few quiet words, then the monk’s hand disappeared into a box behind him and re-emerged with the appropriate presents. The relief and delight on the little lad’s face as the monk pushed the gifts towards him was memorable. He grabbed them and scuttled back to his friends, a lesson well learned.

After Bagaya we left the surfaced road and continued along rough tracks through banana plantations and round fields of millet and maize.

Through banana plantations and round fields of millet, Inwa

Eventually we reached Nan Myin, the so-called ‘leaning tower of Inwa’. The tower, another remnant of the original palace, is in poor condition and perhaps ‘staggering tower’ would be more appropriate. Climbing it gives a good view over the surrounding island – or so I am told. After the previous week’s earthquake, not to mention that night’s aftershock, we were advised not to try.

Nan Myin, The 'Leaning Tower of Inwa'.

We continued our trundle through the swamps and lush green fields until we completed the circle, then we took the boat back toe Myitnge and picked up the car for the rush-hour drive into Mandalay.

Swamp, Inwa

In the evening we walked up to the ‘beer station’ we had visited the previous night, but decided to eat at the Chinese restaurant opposite. We had sweet and sour pork, and chicken with mushrooms (much of the latter and very little of the former - but what do you expect at the price). I was surprised and disappointed that they did not sell beer and we had to make do with a bottle of water.

A truck load of nuns on the way back to Mandalay

As we sat on the terrace a thin, dirty boy of about ten came begging round the tables and I gave him a little money. Just inside the restaurant a local family of six had just finished a banquet. As usual there were plenty of left overs, mainly rice but some meat and sauce. The boy stood looking at it, then plucked up his courage and said a few words. The family looked at the boy, looked at their left over food and nodded. He disappeared, returning a minute later with a plastic bag into which the family loaded the remains of their meal.

A little later we saw him sitting on some steps hungrily scooping food from the bag with his fingers. Some people have hard lives right from the start.

Myanmar, Land of Gold