Check-in at Dubai was fast and painless. No sooner had the car stopped at Emirates Business Check-in than one member of Emirates staff was welcoming me and directing me to a free check-in desk whilst a second collected the bags and followed on. The charming check-in lady quickly found my reservation (although I'd mislaid my e-ticket receipt), issued the boarding pass and Business Lounge Invitation and confirmed that Emirates were also providing a car from Birmingham Airport to my home. Passport control and security was equally fast, but then I was on my own in the huge terminal.
More by luck than judgement, I navigated to the Lounge without error. As befits Emirates home base, it's a huge lounge on two levels with comprehensive facilities. There's a large area with at least 20 internet computers you can use but, if you've your own machine, you can pick up mains from one of the many floor sockets and my Notebook attached to their Wi-Fi without my intervention.
Three hours ago I was in the pool under the deset sun, now I'm in the air-conditioned calm of the Emirates Lounge, about to start the final leg of what has been a fantastic journey.
Post Script
Well, I got back to Birmingham safely, the Emirates car took me home quickly and I was re-united with my dog Tai. The following day, Sunday, I didn't do a lot and on Monday I was back to work. It'll take me some time to sort out all the experiences of the trip and post my photographs but it was a wonderful time.
The world's financial systems seemed to be collapsing whilst I was away and, on my return, they went into free-fall giving each of us many uncertainties for the future. Whatever the future holds, I've been fortunate in having had some splendid experiences for which I'm most grateful.
The Emirates flight to Dubai worked well and we were safely on the ground early morning Thursday. Until they get the new Emirates terminal finished, it takes a while to be bussed to the terminal but then everything went smoothly. I was actually met 'Airside' by a representative of the tour company. He explained that a colleague would meet me once I'd gone through immigration, collected my luggage and cleared customs. This only took a few minutes and the travel guy was waiting. In turn, he took me and my luggage to a waiting 4 X 4. The driver was to give me the 'City Tour' and then deliver me to the Al Maha Desert Resort, about an hour from the city.
I don't want to be unfair to the city or the driver but I've had better tours. I probably wasn't in the most receptive of moods after a night on an aircraft but the tour seemed a bit grudging. Even after reminding him about the booked trip on a boat across Dubai Creek, it didn't happen. But Dubai Creek doesn't look that exciting. It's a strip of water running inland from the Arabian Gulf dividing the old city into Deira side and Bur Dubai Side. There's still a swarm of tiny ferries ('Abra') which cross the creek, well-patronised by locals but motorists can now use the Al Shindagha tunnel on the seaward side and four different bridges on the landward side. There's not much that's very old left and what remains is dwarfed by all the tall modern buildings and the expensive motor cruisers protected by signs saying 'Outsiders not allowed inside jetty' (a rather intriguing sentence construction). Being still quite early, all the shops were shut. Port Rachid blocks the view of the Arabian Gulf from Bur Dubai. There's a container port which is also used by visiting cruise liners. Immediately to the south-west of the port is Dubai Dry Docks, with a massive floating crane and a fairly large new ship apparently under construction. Further south-west again is Jumeirah and this is where a lot of the recent development has gone on. There's a tourist beach and Jumeirah Beach Park. There's a long succession of new apartments and more than enough beauty clinics. There's a sailing club and shipbuilders constructing traditional dhows. Then, you come to the famous Jumeirah Beach Hotel (looking very 'Las Vegas'). Beyond here, there's another public beach. This is where the tour buses stop so that people can go on the beach and take pictures of the Burg Al Arab hotel, iconic symbol of modern Dubai. Somehow, it looks smaller than I expected up close but that's probably just me. As we returned to the old city we passed huge new developments of apartments and I realised what I probably disliked about the place - conspicuous consumption (just like 'Vegas).
Finally, the driver insisted I check out the Mall of the Emirates, which I duly did. Well, it's a big shopping mall, similar to all the big malls you've seen everywhere else, with all the names you've seen everywhere else (Harvey Nicks, Debenhams, etc.). Most places don't open until 10.00 a.m. so the only place open was a huge Carrefour which was already well-patronised, mainly by European ex-patriates. Although it was only 9.30, I was happy to agree to the driver's suggestion that he deliver me to Al Maha, which I hoped I'd find more agreeable.
Once out of the city, we were on a dual carriageway passing through fairly featureless countryside, very dry and dusty. We turned off an an underpass signposted to 'Al Maha' and soon came to a security post with electric gates and fencing leading away left and right. Fortunately, my name was on the guard's list so the gate slowly trundled open and we were able to continue our journey on a metalled road through fairly barren desert. We were waved through a second checkpoint and soon came upon signs of civilisation, with various support buildings set back on either side of the road. We stopped at a turning circle with a low building to the side and I was immediately welcomed by reception staff and led into the main hall - a modern construction but in traditional style. I was presented with a welcoming fruit juice whilst formalities were completed. The lady receptionist then took me back outside where a number of electric buggies were parked. Selecting one of the buggies, she then took me, via a meandering network of block-paved footpaths, to Guest Unit 16 (romantic, huh?), my home for the next two days.
The Al Maha Project is a clever amalgam of natural conservation and exclusive resort. The Dubai Desert Conservation Reserve fenced off 75 square miles of land. Within that reserve, an upmarket tourist resort was created, seeking to offer guests an experience of the desert combined with the facilities associated with the world's best 'remote island' resorts.
I'll have to fill in the details later but I was impressed, particularly with my private plunge pool, where I spent hours. In the two days I did four 'activities'.
The first was the camel ride. A fairly passive event with two camel 'trains', each with about seven well-behaved camels. The lead camel was taken by the camel driver, then each of the following camels was tied to the one in front and carried one or two passengers. We set off into the desert at the slow, lurching pace camels have and went perhaps half a mile or so before dismounting. Champagne was on hand so that we could relax for a few minutes and watch the sun set across the Arabian desert. Then we re-mounted and went home.
Next morning about 20 of us went in a series of 4 X 4 out into the desert where a falconry demonstration was given with two falcons and a very bad-tempered and unco-operative eagle owl. Later, we visited the falconry and were able to slip on the thick leather glove and hold one of the birds.
In the evening, just the lady guide and I went in a 4 X 4 on a 'Nature Drive' into the desert, to see how many wild animals we could spot. This was a great experience.
On Saturday morning, six 4 X 4 went in convoy on a 'Desert Drive'. Again, just me and the lady guide in our 'Landcruiser'. This time, we left the nature reserve and drove onto the 'public area' where the dunes are bigger and, for the first time in my life, I saw 4 X 4 doing the work they were designed for - quite thrilling! The lead vehicle got bogged down in soft sand on one occasion and his tow rope came out so that our vehicle could tow him out. They speak very highly of the Toyota 'Landcruiser' which they use.
After a light breakfast, I was back in the pool. I was still there at 10.45 when reception rang to say "Your 11.00 airport car is here". I thought it was booked for noon! So I finished getting ready in record time and was soon being whisked back to Dubai airport in a Volvo.
The visit to Al Maha made a splendid conclusion to an exhausting tour.
As I start to write this in the hotel, it's half past seven in the evening on Wednesday, 24th Sptember. Soon my guide, Mr. Bounleuth, will pick me up for the airport. I'm due to depart on Thai flight TG693 for Bangkok, arriving 23:10. After stooging around for a bit, I'm then supposed to take Emirates flight EK419 to Dubai, departing Bangkok at 02:30, Thursday morning.
It'll take a while to post my pictures, but I've put a short assortment at Far East Miscellany.
Incidentally, some hotel pictures have been added at Hotels of the World because, being smaller Collections, they've easier to transfer.
Flash ... Flash ... Here's an update at a quarter to midnight, Bangkok, Wednesday.
Mr. Bounleuth picked me up as arranged and, since it's less than five miles to Wattay Airport, we were soon there. Mr. Bounleuth stayed with me until I was checked-in, then we said our goodbyes and I went through passport control and into the small Thai lounge. I used their internet computer for a while but it wasn't very easy. However, the flight was soon called so I joined the aircraft, this time a 747-400. The flight is only 65 minutes, so they've only time to serve a snack meal, but it's done well and I'm so relaxed that I go to sleep on finals at Bangkok and wake up with a bit of a start when we touch down. We taxi for about ten minutes to the stand and disembark via steps to a waiting transfer bus. It's hot when we leave the aircraft but the transfer bus and the whole of the huge terminal have air conditioning going hard, so I'm glad I'm wearing a long-sleeved top. Next, it's the problem of trying to find a transit desk to check-in for my Emirates leg to Dubai. I find the transit desk but there's a sign suggesting Business passengers check-in in the lounge, so I've the new problem of locating the lounge. I crack this and get a good welcome. The inbound flight (from Auckland and Sydney, I think) is about an hour late, but with a lounge to wait in, I'm fairly happy, especially since the Wi-Fi seems to work well.
On the way out from England, I transited through Dubai, but on the way back, I'm going to spend a couple of nights there. Dubai should be positively my last stopping point and I hope to be back in England on Saturday.
Since I had most of Wednesday free, I decided to book a day tour up to the hyro-electric dam and the associated lake. The local tour company wanted paying in U.S. Dollars, cash, so we started the day by going to bank BCEL (as recommended by 'Lonely Planet') so that I could get a cash advance.
Ang Nam Ngum was created in 1971 to feed a hydro-electric plant. The electrical requirements of Laos are low by European standards so surplus electricity is sold to neighbouring Thailand and the project has been so successful that a number of similar schemes are being built.
I was picked up by Mr. Bounleuth and the driver at 8.30 a.m. and, after the visit to the bank, we set off North on route 13. This is a decent road but speeds are not high. Ribbon development accompanies the road for mile after mile. At Km 52, we stop at Ban Lak Ha-sip Sawng (that means Km 52 village, I believe). It's claim to fame is that it's the daily 'minority people's market'. It's run by the Hmong ethnic grouping and is very extensive. The covered section has permanent stalls displaying a wide range of jewellery and a bewildering array of household goods and consumables. But it's the fresh market which is most startling. There's a wide selection of vegetables and fruit more rice than an army could eat. There's 'steam rice', 'new crop steam rice' and various types of 'sticky rice'.
I found the poultry and fish section troubling. The Lao people like their poultry fresh, so live birds are tied to the leg of the stall, awaiting sale. Fish and eels are kept alive in a variety of bowls and containers filled with water and with some sort of netting over the top. The netting is intentionally incomplete, so that the vendor can reach in for the fish but the result is that the more active fish can attempt to escape. I was surprised by the regularity that this occurred. Where the stall holder was alert, the recalitrant could be quickly collected in a bowl and returned to the main container. But when sales are slow, Lao people are quite happy to lie down and doze, so it then relied upon somebody else noticing the escapee and alerting the somnolent stall holder. It's not an arrangement I'm happy with, but I am a 'farang' (foreigner) in their country. There were plenty of stalls selling cooked items - whole fish, like carp, being grilled over charcoal or wood fires. My guide haggled over various items he wanted to buy, including rice as I've not seen it, ready-cooked and wrapped in bamboo, looking a bit like a stick of dynamite. This is the original 'fast food': it can be easily carried when travelling and 'unwrapped' when required. It was made with 'new crop steam rice' and had a sweeter taste than I was expecting. (More follows).
Here’s how I was introduced to the Big Brother Mouse initiative. I was on the Luang Say cruise boat travelling down then Mekong River in Laos. We’d moored near a remote Khmu village and we’d been looking at the way the local people lived. Then, all of a sudden, we came upon this tall American who, bit by bit, explained why he was there.
Sasha had sold his publishing business in Boston, looking for a new challenge, and had gravitated to Laos. He was amazed to discover just how few books there seemed to be around. Many schools seemed to get by without a single textbook in Lao or any other language. Believing that literacy is the best route to self-improvement, he pondered what could be done. He spent some time talking to Government people, to see what their attitude would be. There are a number of Non-Governmental Organisations operating in Laos and that seemed a possible way to fund the initiative. But, after financing the project with his own money for a time, Sasha persuaded a Lao national to set up a company and the American became an unpaid advisor and informal fund raiser.
So how does it work? Firstly, Big Brother Mouse produces high-quality picture books printed in colour where the pictures are accompanied by text in Lao (and sometimes English as well). Already, there are over 50 books for different ages on different topics. They may re-tell a traditional tale (not necessarily a Lao story – Sherlock Holmes has been given the ‘Big Brother Mouse’ treatment) or talk about Wonders of the World, Dinosaurs, Astronomy, anything. The only requirement is that the text should be clear and the pictures entertaining. Text, pictures and printing are done by Lao people in Laos. The aim is to engage the imagination of the reader and to show that reading is fun.
The idea that reading is fun is probably alien to most of the target audience, unfamiliar as they are with books. So a key strategy is to introduce them to the books in a fun environment – the Book Party. Big Brother Mouse arranges the date and time with the local school teacher and all the pupils are invited to a Book Party.
Here’s how the Book Party I attended worked. Three young Lao people from Big Brother Mouse had travelled on the boat, bringing the materials needed. At this village, the three-classroom school was a little way out of the main village, next to a large playing field. The pupils (around 100 at this location) were formed up into a ring on the playing field and the Big Brother Mouse team soon had them shouting and cheering and playing simple games. When it came to the three-legged race, the foreign tourists were invited to join in and a few of us did, hobbling round in a big circle to a lot of laughing and cheering. A refinement was to equip one pair of boys with grotesque masks and this pair could eliminate other participants by touching them. The game went on until everybody had been ‘tagged’.
Now the foreign tourists were invited to take part in the issuing of supplies. A selection of Big Brother Mouse books were laid out and each young person was allowed to choose a book to take away. My role was to issue three sheets of A4 paper and a pencil (with an eraser at the end) to each child. They each made an attempt to give a Lao ‘thank you’ with palms together, but it was clear that some of them were uneasy at approaching these strange foreigners. The local teacher is issued with a ‘Swap Box’ so that children can exchange their book, once read, for another title.
This marvellous initiative has been running for a few years and is expanding. Foreign visitors coming to Laos have been sufficiently impressed to keep the project going. The Website allows anyone to make a contribution to the work.
23SEP
Transfer from hotel to airport.
Flight from Luang Prabang to Vientiane
Proposed flight number and time QV102 depart 1310 arrive 1350
1 night SETTHA PALACE HOTEL in a executive suite.
Discover Vientiane, its most beautiful Buddhist monastery, and the striking That Luang and Patuxai monuments. This is a half day tour commencing early afternoon. This afternoon you will be met at your hotel (or at the airport) for an introduction to Laos’s capital. Located on the Mekong River and with a population of 600,000, Vientiane has a laid-back, appealing feel. Your touring will take in a sample of the city’s main sights. We first visit exquisite Wat Sisaket, Vientiane’s oldest original temple, and built in 1818 - all other temples in Vientiane were re-built after the Siamese invasion of 1828. We then explore the city’s most famous landmark, the golden-spired Phra That Luang. This national monument is symbolic of both the monarchy and the Buddhist religion. At the end of the day we ascend the stairs of the Patuxai Monument, reminiscent of the Arc de Triomphe in Paris, then conclude with brief visit to the banks of the Mekong, to take in the sunset.
You'll notice there's only one night in Vientiane, then I head for Bangkok on the way home, so it won't be quite as relaxed as the three nights in Luang Prabang.
I'm up at five, because Mr. Somphet is picking me up at 6.30 a.m. to fly to the capital of Laos, Vientiane. The airport is only a short drive away and security and check-in is quick so there's time to relax in the small terminal. Most of my fellow passengers were on the Luang Say boat a couple of days ago. Just before eight, we walk out onto the apron and join the aircraft, an ATR-42 turboprop operated by Air Laos. Its only a 35 minute flight by air (considerably longer by road) so, very soon, we're walking across the tarmac at Vientiane, which has the luxury of a single baggage conveyor in the luggage fall. My bag arrives promptly and in the arrivals hall, my smiling guide is waiting.
Outside, the driver is waiting with a 'Kia' people carrier. It's hot - about 34 degrees. It's only a short drive to my hotel but the roads have a 'big city' feel which comes as a bit of a shock after the last few days. With migrant workers and transients, there are more like a million people in Vientiane. In this part of the city, buildings are modern and fairly nondescript. At first sight, this could be any city in South East Asia. Suddenly, we stop in the shadow of a massive microwave transmission tower - we're here. The Settha Palace Hotel is only two storey (good), modern concrete construction but in a very traditional style inside with high ceilings and wide, wooden-floors. In fact, it reminds me of the 'Raffles' in Singapore. Check-in is brief and painless and my guide arranges to pick me up at 2.0 p.m. in the afternoon for a city tour. Although it's only just after nine, my suite is ready and I'm very happy with it. There's a large sitting room, large bedroom and bathroom with bath and shower. I switch off the air conditioning (as I usually do) but, in a concession to the heat, switch on the ceiling fan. A large bowl of complimentary fruit is delivered and I'm feeling quite mellow. I have a shower and make a quick tour of the hotel. Everything seems in order. Internet is available by using a pre-paid card from 'Planet on Line'. Although Internet is cheaper in town, I purchase a pre-paid card for the convience of working in my room at funny times (I'm writing this at four o'clock in the morning).
Then, it's time for a walk to orientate myself. Armed with my 'Lonely Planet' guide (they really are good but, in a place like this, can get out-of-date quite quickly), I set off in the direction of the Mekong. I'm still suffering 'culture shock' by being back in the city and find all the people and the traffic quite odd. There seem to be plenty of tourists about but, from the hotels and restaurants I'm passing, it's clear this is the tourist part of town. I walk along the road parallel to the Mekong and briefly look at a (modern) monastery. Then I cross the road to look at the river. A few weeks ago, the river was in flood and there's a row of sandbags a couple of feet high running all along the shore. Apparently, the Government has just decreed that they must stay in place for a while. The open air restaurants spread along the shoreline with lots of little bamboo huts on stilts for the diners. It's quiet now, but this is clearly going to be a focus for the nightlife of Vientiane. At the next Monastery I visit, I'm engaged in conversation by a young monk. After being a novice for ten years, he's recently become a monk. His ambition is to study English at University but the costs are daunting. His English is pretty good and I think he wanted to practice his English rather than solicit a contribution so I make a small offering. I'm slightly uneasy, because there are all sorts of protocols in dealing with monks which I'm unaware of, and I don't want to cause offence.
I continue my walk around the town, fascinated by a small Department Store selling a bewildering range of things. Then I come to the Hall of Culture used for concerts and important meetings. It looks as dreadful as it sounds and must have been built with Chinese money. Nearby, the Lao National Museum is less offensive but a sign advises "Apologized Museum closed, Improving the exhibition room". The completion date has been altered in manuscript to read '15/10/2008', so I won't be going there. But I'm intrigued because the concrete fountain (not working) is of a design I've seen in a number of Russian-aided countries. Eminently possible, because the Soviet Union is one of many states that's provided aid to Laos over the years. Returning to the hotel, there are a couple of 'FX4' London Taxis outside, but I don't find out the story there.
We start our afternoon tour by going to Wat Si Saket, now a museum. Built around 1820 this hasn't been rebuilt and is looking distinctly tired but I'm enchanted by it. The main building (the 'Sim') is surrounded by rectangular cloisters crammed with preserved Buddha images of all shapes and styles. Although it's a museum, local people make offerings at the more important pieces, just as at active temple sites. The cloister wall is perforated with niches, all containing pairs of small, usually clay, Buddha images. Some multi-lingual signs discuss the problems of conserving the original materials used in construction.
Next, we look at the Emerald Buddha at Haw Pha Kaeo. This is now the National Museum of Religious Art but, for me, lacks the spirituality of Wat Si Sacket. Although the site is old, the present building was constructed, with French help, between 1936 and 1942 and it does nothing for me, although it holds a wide range of important artefacts. I can't illustrate the artefacts as photography is not permitted. Outside, there's one of the famous clay Jars, about four feet tall. In the South, the Plain of Jars is a famous site. The jars are thought to be funerary artefacts.
We then go to the Pha That Luang, regarded as the most important monument in Laos, it has the form of a large central Stupa surrounded by smaller ones on a tiered base and all painted gold. It was badly damaged during the invasion from what is now Thailand in 1828. The French restored it in 1900 and again in the 1930s. I don't doubt its religious significance (it reputedly holds the breastbone or pelvis of Lord Buddha) but aesthetically I find it disappointing.
Late afternoon, we visit the Patuxai. This wasn't built until the 1960s, allegedly using cement donated by the Americans intended for a new airport runway. The Lao people proudly call their triumphal arch the 'Arc de Triomphe'. There's some interesting painted relief detailing but most of the surface is untreated concrete which I find harsh. There's a hundred-odd steps to reach the top which I easily take. Inside is also bare concrete and badly lit by fluorescent tubes, giving a rather depressing appearance. Above the level of the four arches, there are two sales floors for tatty souvenirs. Because it's low season, the stall holders have barricaded off their stalls and gone home. It all produces a distinctly Laotion feel, but the Arc de Triomphe, it ain't. However, the view from the top is well worth the climb.
We drive to the Wat Si Muang, steeped in stories and said to hold the guardian spirit of Vientiane. The original structure was destroyed by invaders and rebuilt in 1915, but there's no doubting the energy of this place. Lots of people are coming and going all the time, at least two monks are carrying out separate ceremonies in different parts of the building and people are making personal devotions at various shrines. A strong smell of incense hangs over the place. My guide suggests I make a contribution, which I'm happy to do for a place that's so obviously dear to the local people. My donation earns me three strikes on a large gong, to make sure my subsequent prayer is heard. It's louder than I expect, but everyone just carries on doing their own thing.
Finally, we drive to the 'beach' - the shore of the Mekong where people are drinking at the numerous bamboo-constructed beer gardens. There's a relaxed atmosphere and we stay to watch the sunset. A racing boat with around 20 oarsmen and a cox appears and starts to practise for the forthcoming Vientiane races. I'm afraid they're rubbish. I'm happy to be dropped of at my hotel and, too tired to go down for dinner, I have fish and chips and chocolate cake in my room and am in bed by 9.0 p.m.
Monday is a 'Free Day'. I eshewed the blandishments of the hotel's various Spa treatments and decided to see more of the town. I considered doing an out-of-town trip, but decided I'd be happier just walking out of the hotel on my own two feet. The morning started cool but quickly warmed up. The hotel has a guard house and a lifting barrier. As I approached, the barrier went up (the guard releases a cord in the guardhouse and a counterweight lifts the barrier) and I was given a salute, just as he does for each vehicle which enters or leaves.
Being on foot gives you time to notice the oddities, the methods of electrical distribution (yeah, right), the concrete postbox stencilled 'Boites aux Lettres' (and with what looked like a very low security lock on the metal plate at the back to allow the letters to be collected), the man exercising his two goats, each on a piece of string, the fact that around 90% of traffic is motor bikes and it's possible to cross even main roads without too much trouble, the amount of new building, all of 'classic' reinforced concrete pattern, using remarkable amounts of bamboo or wooden props to support the floors whilst the concrete is hardening.
Take a side road, and the relative sophistication of the main tourist areas falls away and you can see evidence of much simpler life-styles, side by side with better properties, often the ones including shops and, as I commented earlier, with the incongruity of a smattering of satellite dishes.
The first temple I looked at was Wat Mahathat. Just one tourist followed me onto the site. A tiny cat was fast asleep in the sun on the temple steps. Next, I looked at Wat Ho Sian, the entrance steps from the road protected by fearful looking Naga Snakes - a seven-headed mythical snake present at a number of temples. There were plenty of tourists waiting outside the site, but I only saw young novices around the temple grounds. Just opposite was the Post Office, so I had a quick look inside. It's a fairly modest affair, so it did not detain me long.
I continued along the main street which had held the Night Market, noticing the frequent triple 2-pin sockets set low on the wall to power the lighting. The non-weatherproof fittings were charred and burnt from the heavy use. A quick glance again at Wat Mai Suwannaphumaham and a nicely-proportioned colonial building opposite (now tourist shops). At the foot of Phou Si Hill, Wat Pa Huak offers free admission (the more popular monasteries charge 20,000 Kip entry fee). Built 1860, it features some interesting wall paintings internally and a 'Trust Box' for the purchase of various items intended to support the restoration project.
We're now in 'Tourist Town', where most of the faces you see are European and the services offered are exclusively offered to appeal to tourists. I suppose it's inevitable when a country embraces tourism as a way of improving the lot of the indiginous population, but when I passed restaurant 'Tat Mor' I couldn't help feeling the name was somehow symbolic. I passed the old French school, echoing to shouting children and topped by a rusting corrugated iron roof.
Eventually, when the the guest houses and restaurants and travel agents petered out, I came to Wat Sensoukaraham, a tray of rice cakes drying on the wall. I noticed the skin at one end of the big ceremonial drum was torn - I bet the drummer got a ticking-off for that.
Then I came upon the blissful tranqility of Wat Khili. In addition to the usual monastic buildings, there is a doll's-house of a building, half-timbered, currently housing a temporary exhibition of photographs regarding the Manuscript Preservation Programme of the National Library of Laos. I'm reluctant to move on.
I've now reached the end of the peninsula, with the Mekong on my left and its tributary, the Nam Khan, flowing in from my right. A single fisherman is at the water's edge, checking his lines or nets. Another fisherman in a small boat is working near the confluence of the two rivers. Now the flood levels have gone down, the foreshore is rich in nutrients amd a number of vegetable patches are being prepared in the fertile ground. I decline various offers to charter a boat (although I'm tempted).
I make a second, brief visit to Wat Xieng Thong. This time, the main temple is crowded with novices eating their lunch and local worshippers. Then I come to Wat Nong Sikhounmuang. In addition to the Monks' quarters and the highly-decorated main temple, a second temple is being built (reinforced concrete, naturally.
More walking takes me to Big Brother Mouse's first shop in Luang Prabang. They tell me that the American volunteer adviser (whom I met a few days ago) is at their newer shop, a couple of blocks away. My increasingly weary steps take me to the newer, larger Big Brother Mouse shop and I chat to Sasha for a few minutes before starting to retrace my steps along the main street. This time, I do a deal with one of the 'Tuk-Tuk' drivers and return to the hotel.
I spend the afternoon writing in the hotel and indulge in Afternoon Tea on my own balcony. At 5.40 p.m., along with two youngish couples, I take the hotel 'Tuk-Tuk' down to the Night Market, walking round the as-yet quiet handicraft stalls, then exploring some of the stalls for locals. Near the main crossroads there's something of a 'bike jam' as a number of people make 'drive-through' purchases from the roadside vendors. There's a small group of stalls selling DVDs. They all appear to be popular music, appealing to the young people milling about.
There's a shuttle bus back to the hotel at 7.00 p.m. and I'm the only passenger. Having enjoyed Afternoon Tea, I've only space for a plate of the hotel's wonderful watercress soup. Tonight, I must pack because I'm being picked up at 6.30 a.m. to go to the airport.
Full day private tour. Discover the former Royal Palace of the now-deposed Royal family and sample a selection of the 32 gilded monasteries which make World-Heritage Listed Luang Prabang such a unique and loved locale.
This morning we begin with a visit to a local market, for an experience of uniquely Asian sights and sounds. We then explore the National Museum (which once served as the Royal Palace), full of fine examples of Lao art and furniture, and the former residence of the now deposed royal family. Our sampling of Luang Prabang’s exquisite temples begins with tours of serene Wat Xieng Thong, and Wat Mai. This latter temple was spared sacking by the Chinese Black Haws in the late nineteenth century, supposedly because of its beauty and stunning design. In the afternoon, we cross the width of the Mekong River in a small boat for a walking tour of some little-visited temples away from the main part of town. At the end of the day return to Luang Prabang and ascend the steps of Phou Si, the highest point in Luang Prabang and a great place for panoramic views of this wonderful World Heritage listed town. End the day with a better appreciation of the defining sites of one of Asia’s most enchanting places.
We'll see if the place can match its advance publicity! I got up at 6.00 and went for breakfast at 6.30 a.m. Although they advertise breakfast from 6.30, it was nearer seven when everything was available. Luang Prabang seems a pretty laid-back sort of place.
Luang Prabang is a small town. It sits on the bank of the Mekong and a number of long concrete steps give access to the dozens of ferries which come and go. There’s at least one vehicle ferry to the opposite bank of the Mekong made by joining two ‘standard’ ferry hulls side-by-side, catamaran-style, with a transverse vehicle deck provided with ramps each side. The Khan River enters the Mekong here, but this now has a road bridge, carrying the road North to Pak Ou. There’s a small airport, served by modern, high-wing turboprops and some twin jets. The French built a number of colonial-style buildings, in a very restrained style, and these remain in use – other buildings are a mixture of wood and bamboo and the ubiquitous reinforced concrete. There’s a fair building boom going on to provide more facilities for tourists. The town was made a World Heritage site because of around 30 temples dotted around the town. Although the sites are hundreds of years old, most of the original temples were badly damaged or destroyed during the sacking of the town in the nineteenth century. What remains is, inevitably, rather a pastiche of old and new, but quite attractively done.
I was picked up, as arranged, and the 'bus' (actually a very nice people carrier with about 8 seats) drives about one and a half miles to the town centre. The sun is shining and it's already quite hot. We first visit the former Royal Palace which is now a museum.
This visit gives some idea of the complex and unfortunate history of Laos, which I’ve not got my head round. Too small to be a ‘major player’ politically, Laos has been fought over for centuries by its neighbours Thailand and Cambodia and, more recently, by the ‘Great Powers’. The French had a long association with the country and they actually built the Palace we're visiting for King Sisavang Vong in 1904. Laos was regarded as an agreeable posting by the French diplomats. It was far enough from Paris that they were not greatly troubled by their masters and, for long periods, not a lot happened. In the middle of the twentieth century, all this changed and the French found themselves fighting a ‘hot war’ in the area. Following the crushing defeat at Dien Bien Phu in Viet Nam, the French left the area, hastily giving Laos independence. This ushered in a period of instability during which Russia, China and America were all involved. Laos is reputed to have received more American aid than any similar country and also more American bombs when the Americans decided that a ‘scorched earth’ policy would be more effective in dealing with the Communist threat. It’s not a pretty story. The present situation remains as muddled. There’s an uncrowned 'King', currently without powers in today’s vaguely socialist state. Through it all, Laos seems to muddle on.
Photography is not permitted inside the Museum. The major rooms have been over-decorated with the rather naïve ‘glass mosaics’ that seems to appeal to the Lao taste. One reception room has a series of paintings done in the 1930s illustrating the Lao lifestyle by what I would consider a rather indifferent French artist. The bedrooms of the King and Queen, by contrast, are large but spartan. The library has a nice collection of glass-fronted bookcases of simple design holding a pathetic collection of books, mainly worthy publications presented by whatever power was pretending allegiance at the time. There are paintings of various Royals by French or Russian artists.
Outside, there is a typically epic statue of the former King defending the consitution and displaying his peaceful intentions. The statue was provided by the Russians in the ‘60s, so I suppose the strange echoes of Josef Stalin are understandable. A splendid new temple, Wat Ho Pha Bang, is being decorated in the grounds of the museum, but it’s not consecrated yet. There’s also the ‘Royal Theatre’, although the word ‘Royal’ has been excised from the wooden sign pointing to it!
I’m surprised at how many tourists are around. This is the end of the low season, but we see groups of English-, French-, Italian- and Japanese-speakers, together with a fair number of young backpackers.
There is one genuine 16th century (in parts) Monastery complex – Wat Xieng Thong – which was spared during the sacking of the city. One of the temples features long water pipes or gutters, stored in the rafters. These are used during the ceremony of the washing of the Buddha image. As we exit the complex into a back street, there are large trays at the side of the road, covered with hundreds of pieces of buffalo meat being sun-dried. Further on, there are trays of rice cakes being similarly dried.
At the next Monastery complex we visit, the young novices are clustering around for their lunch, after which only drinks are permitted until the next day. Monasteries often have a pair of long, highly-decorated, elegant racing boats which are used in two festivals during the year, each paddled by about 20 rowers plus a cox. The autumn races took place a few days ago, but the boats are now returned to their boathouses and on view. I’m amused by the modern Drum Tower. In addition to the large drum on the first floor, the ground floor is occupied by a pair of wooden bells and a car.
Finally, we go to Wat Mai Suwannaphumaham which, like most temples, is crowded with multiple Buddha images of all styles and sizes. After the sacking of the temples, the people rescued as many of the Buddha images as possible and they have been placed in the remaining Wats. The bus drops me off at the hotel so I can have a shower, a rest and maybe lunch (I settle for a pear and a cup of tea), arranging to pick me up at 2.0 p.m.
When I’m picked up, we go down to one of the landing places on the river, where one of the passenger boats is moored, full of villagers waiting to be taken up river to their homes. They will have come from their villages early this morning with produce to sell in the market and now they’re ready to go home. But the boat owner is waiting a while, in the hope of getting even more passengers. A similar-sized boat approaches and moors next to the passenger boat. That’s just for me. The guide and I have to step across the passenger boat to reach our boat, crewed by the boat owner and his young son and we set off upstream for a landing place on the opposite bank. We can see glimpses of life on some of the many passenger ferries, which are also home to the owner and his family. There’s one of the larger motorised barges which I’m told bring goods from China and go downstream to Vietnam.
Our boat is powered by a Toyota petrol engine towards the rear – I suspect it’s an adapted automotive engine. I can’t work out what seem to be some sort of home-made remote engine controls (gear? clutch?) set in the floor up at the front, where the boat driver sits. Steering is by a car steering wheel turning a wooden cone, around which are wrapped a couple of turns of nylon rope. The ends of the rope disappear and must be connected to the rudder There’s also a throttle lever which looks as if it works over a Bowden cable.
Soon, the guide and I are dropped of at a set of concrete landing steps leading up to a village of wood and bamboo houses. This side of the river is noticeably more rural. Looking across the river, there’s a good view of the landing steps at which I arrived on the Luang Say boat less than 24 hours ago. On the inland side is Wat Long Khoun, an 18th century monastery, partially restored under a French initiative. The temple features trapezoidal window and door openings and wall paintings inside and out. I’m told that one monk and one novice are currently in residence. It’s an enchanting spot and very peaceful.
We then take a footpath which leads over a bridge and past a stand of young teak trees to an adjacent village. Here, an exhausting climb leads up to Wat Chom Phet. This time, we’re accompanied by three young girls who have little to do on this hot Sunday afternoon. Once again, the restoration, currently incomplete, has been financed by the French. It’s a beautiful location and the views across the Mekong are stunning. I gingerly descend the steps to the footpath where there are trays of fruit drying, then we go down to the river past a number of modest wood and bamboo houses. They may be modest, but a number sport satellite dishes – not the discreet antenna possible in Europe but the much larger dish necessary in South-East Asia. Our boat is waiting here for us so, once we’re aboard, we set off, this time with the young boy at the helm.
Back in the main town, we make our way to the foot of Phou Si. This is the hill on the opposite side of main street from the Museum, with 300 steps to reach the small gold-painted temple at the summit. I manage it, and the view makes the climb worthwhile.
I take pictures of an aircraft landing and fail to locate my hotel (until the guide points it out). I visit the (modern) temple – the first I’ve seen in Laos with LED lights adorning the Buddha image. It’s 4.00 p.m. and, from various monasteries around the town, the drums start to beat. I don’t understand the criteria for the days on which the drums are played but, apparently, played at 4.00 a.m. and 4.00 p.m., their one function was to let the people know what time it was. This haunting sound echoes across the town for ten minutes. Descending from the hill was considerably easier than getting up and soon the bus delivers me back to the hotel.
Around 4.30 p.m., they close a section of the main street and turn it into a Night Handicraft Market. The hotel runs a shuttle bus in connection, so I take the 5.40 p.m. service into town (I’m the only passenger) to have a look. It’s just getting dark and a lot of the stalls are not yet set up. I’m intrigued by the series of snaking electric cables underfoot which allow most stalls to illuminate their stock with a single, naked light bulb, until someone trips over the cable, which seems to happen fairly frequently. Most stalls use a standard aluminium collapsible awning with a red top. The stall holders tend to underestimate the height of their foreign visitors, so I witnessed foreign men rubbing their heads after striking the aluminium frame followed by diminuitive stall holders trying to raise the roof a couple more inches. In the various side alleys, the locals continue the sale of fresh produce and the tiny eating places find plenty of takers for their wares. A lot of these stalls seem to have very little in the way of artificial lighting, so I’m not quite sure how they manage, but it all seems to work. I explore a little more of the town in the dark as intermittent sheet lightning and thunder starts. I make my way back to the Post Office, in time to catch the 7.00 p.m. return shuttle bus to the hotel. Just before the bus arrives, light rain starts, which later becomes heavy. I timed my expedition just right to avoid a soaking!
Back at the hotel, I take dinner in the covered part of the terrace of the Phou Savanh Restaurant – the thunder, lightning and rain continue. I enjoy homegrown watercress cream soup with proper French bread followed by steamed fresh water fish fillet with a saffron risotto and lemon butter sauce accompanied by Nature’s Son et Lumiere show. The hotel is on a hill above the town and the terrace commands a broad view of the sky and the distant mountains. The temple of Phou Si is in the middle of the visual field, floodlit by courtesy of the hotel and appears to float in the dark sky, until the lightning silhouettes the hill and the distant mountains. Finally, at about 8.30 p.m. the lights of the hotel flicker but stay on. The floodlighting of Phou Si is extinguished, to come back on about ten minutes later. An eerie experience. I’m not surprised to discover that the internet has stopped working following this demonsration of Nature’s power. Incidentally, I had the Duo of Catalane Cream and Chocolate for dessert, then returned to my room to sleep soundly.
Full breakfast at the Lodge. (Optional: walk to Pakbeng market, where people from the surrounding villages exchange their goods). At 08h30 board the boat for the second leg of the cruise. A short stop is made at a hill tribe village where you can watch the traditional process of Lao whiskey production before a buffet lunch onboard. Continue to Pak Ou Village, at the mouth of the Nam Ou River, where you will visit the Tam Ting ‘Cave of a Thousand Buddhas’ Arrival in Luang Prabang before sunset. Transfer from pier, stop at a Hmong hill tribe village, Pak Ou village. Transfer to La Residence Phou Vao
2 nights (typo: actually 3) LA RESIDENCE in a Mountain pool view room.
I've never been to Laos, so I don't know what to expect. I bought the 'Lonely Planet' guide in Bangkok at the start of this trip (it seems a lifetime ago to me) but I haven't started to read it yet - it would be too confusing (I struggle to remember what country I'm in and I have no idea what day of the week it is). In case I have more trouble with the internet, I'll let you see the itinerary, to be going on with.
Travel to Thai - Lao border to pier to take Luang Say cruise. The LuangSay riverboat leaves Huay Xai Pier at 09:00am for a cruise down the river to Pakbeng. You will pass dramatic jungle scenery and towering cliffs. En route one stop is made to observe the rural life of the river tribes along the Mekong. There is a buffet lunch served on board. Continue to Pakbeng where you will arrive before 17h00 for sunset and check-in to the Luang Say Lodge. Dinner is provided on the terrace overlooking the Mekong River.
Last morning at the Anantara – I’m woken by an alarm call at 5.30 a.m. and it’s raining. Down to the restaurant for a simpler-than-usual breakfast then make my final arrangements and check out.
My guide, Koon, is already there with the driver, so we’re soon on our way South, taking the coast road. Unusually, we pass onto roads which are potholed. Generally, the roads in Thailand I've been on are in pretty good condition. We pass through the village where Koon was brought up and then the road becomes twisting and mountainous and veers inland. We’re now in an area occupied by the Hmong tribe, originally from Southern China, and we pass people walking to the fields in traditional dress and with a large basket on their back which they’ll use to collect the day’s supply of vegetables. Most of the people use a woven bamboo basket, but some have a large plastic-moulded basket like a laundry basket. A few are saving their legs by riding pillion on motor bikes! Eventually, the river re-appears and we start to descend. The rain is still coming hard, sluicing across the road and causing further damage.
Eventually we reach a small town which is apparently the ferry port. A short road on our right descends steeply right into the waters of the Mekong. Having donned my 'Pack-A-Mac' style kagoule and sheltering under the offered umbrella, I walk to the smart, modern Thai Immigration building and officially leave Thailand. There are a number of small motor boats (similar to the Lake Inle style) near the water's edge. Koon points to one, already loaded with a few passengers aboard and, having surrendered my umbrella, I trudge across the strip of wet sand as delicately as possible and haul myself aboard. My bags are dumped fairly unceremoniously in the bottom of the boat by Thai porters and the boat driver immediately goes astern to free himself from the sand then guns the engine as we head out across the grey waters of the Mekong. This does not look auspicious, I think to myself.
After a few minutes, we approach the shore on the Lao side. There's not as much wet sand to cross, but the rain is still coming down. Two porters grab my bags and head off up the steep street towards the town, pointing to a building which turns out to be the Luang Say Travel Office. There are English-speaking guides, so I gain hope that it's all going to work. There are various tourists milling about and the pile of luggage on the floor is growing. Everybody seems a bit bemused. Eventually, it gets sorted out. We have to complete a Lao Visa Application and supply a passport photograph which the Luang Say people take to the Lao Immigration office next door. When they return with a visa stapled into the passport, the passport holder has to personally go to a different window at the same office to be officially admitted to the country. There's a lot of good-natured confusion because there seems to be a number of young backpackers arriving from the constant stream of small boats going back and forth between Laos and Thailand.
We have a bit of waiting around and then a mixture of English- and French-speaking passengers are marched to the main street to board a series of pick-ups with bench seats which will transfer us to the boat. The rain has now stopped and spirits lift. We go through the towh to reach another landing place where a concrete ramps serves a vehicle ferry. But the vehicle ferry is moored a few feet away, so that our craft can use the ramp for boarding passengers and their luggage. Most of the people from the Travel Office we've just left are now on the boat and will be with us for the rest of the trip.
The main deck is divided into three seating areas with tables. The fore and aft areas are for the French-speakers and the middle area for the English speakers. The young Swiss couple are placed with the English-speakers. During the trip, some of the English speakers use a fair bit of French and the French speakers reciprocate, so it's more amicable than might be imagined. There's a crew area at the stern including kitchen, Male and Female Western-style toilets and a small bar area. In fact, it's surprisingly comfortable.
We cast off and slip into the strong current which allows us to make good speed downstream. Initially, there are hills on our Port (left) side which is in Laos but not much sign of people. To starboard, it's much flatter and there are a fair few modern buildings. Once we pass the Thai Border, it's Laos on both sides of the river. After another few miles, we make a rather curious stop so that the boat (not its passengers) can clear customs. Whilst we wait, local children swarm across the mud and climb onto the outside of the hull with plastic baskets crammed with pre-packed snack food which they offer for sale. As we continue, the landscape becomes more rugged and the importance of the river becomes more apparent. Much of Laos lacks roads - no dirt tracks, let alone metalled roads. Getting from village to village involves walking. So, many of the villages are close to the banks of the Mekong, where boats may provide communication and fishing can provide an important source of protein. We pass net and line fisherman, working at the water's edge and other fisherman working from small boats. The Mekong is not completely benign. Underwater rocks and the strong current can whip the water into a foaming mass of cross-currents and whirlpools requiring an experienced helmsman. Our Captain does most of the work himself, with impressive economy of movement of the wheel. The villages we pass are often half-hidden in the trees and we catch glimpses of the lives of these hardy people. Anthropologists have identified over 100 ethnic groups living in Laos but the Government, in its infinite wisdom, recognises three main groups. There are a number of the elegant motorised passenger boats plying up and down the river or moored at the larger villages. Each of these boats can carry dozens of passengers. For those who can afford it, alternately, there are speedboats to act as taxis. These are small, brightly-painted craft with a 'long tail' driving a propellor. The driver, and usually his passengers, wear crash helmets and these boats race about in a cloud of spray. According to the tales, they're a very dangerous, if fast, means of transport on the river.
A very decent lunch is served - we all queue at the bar at the back of the boat to be served by the crew. Additionally, the Swiss girl and I get a delicious omelette to share, as we've indicated a vegetarian preference. For dessert, there's oranges and tiny bananas, followed by tea or coffee.
The landing place at each of the villages is no more than an exposed sandbank and, early in the afternoon, we make for one of these, bow-first, pointing upstream. A metal stake is rammed into the sand and a single mooring line makes us fast. A metal gangplank allows the passengers to get off and, led by the guides, we climb up to the village built on higher ground, watched by curious children and with hens and chickens running around. The homes are bamboo and wood, raised on piles. Some of the smaller buildings have woven bamboo sides and are the barns for rice storage. At the top of the piles which raise then from the ground, there are large wooden discs, presumably to keep out pests. Underneath one of these 'Rice Houses' is a wooden bowl and grinding pole used for grinding the daily supply of rice. large plastic sheets laid on the ground allow the rice to be dried by the sun. There are a few bicycles in evidence and one small tractor unit which can be attached to a trailer. The inhabitants, from the Khmu people, sit in the doorways of the houses watching the strange visitors. A number of the younger boys are completely naked. We're approached by a tall American, who invites us to attend a 'Book Party' at the local school, run by an educational initiative called 'Big Brother Mouse'. Click for report.
After the Book Party, we return to the boat and continue our journey downstream. As we pass the various villages, we now have a better idea of the simple lifestyles practised by the people. The scenery becomes even wilder with less flat land available for cultivation and more impenetrable jungle. Now it's possible to see areas of hillside, often some way from the village, which have been cleared for growing 'Sticky Rice' which can be grown on these sloped areas. This is a speciality of the Hmong people, who originally migrated from Southern China.
I'm impressed both by the grandeur of the scenery and the isolated lifetyles of the communities we glimpse. Often, where there's a spit of sand at the water's edge, oxen or buffalo can be seen but no sign of the people who presumably keep them. There's not much in the way of shipping but frequently local people in small boats going about their business.
There's a bit of excitement because two of our passengers are to disembark at a remote holiday lodge riverside. It's the usual arrangement: the boat drives towards the sandy bank and the engine holds the boat in position while the two go down the gangplank, to be met by someone from the lodge. Their suitcases are bundled off and two lodge porters carry them away, shoulder-high.
It's intriguing the way the fast-flowing river will suddenly change into foaming cross-currents and whirlpools, as if some great sink-hole has opened up in the river bed. In some places, we can spot the bright blue of home-made tents. This appears to be foresters harvesting teak which will presumably be collected by boat. Laos does still extract some teak, but it's controlled by and sold through the government.
In the late afternoon, large sandy scars appear in the left bank and there are signs of earth-moving machinery. We're looking at the new road, which is going to link Pakbeng to Thailand and China. It's going to be a dramatic road and you can't help feeling sad at the loss of more isolated areas, but it's probably the best chance the people of Laos will get to enter the modern world.
Another wooden village appears on the left, but this one is the Luang Say Lodge at Pakbeng, where we overnight (the ship is too small to have accommodation, although some of the crew will remain on board). About half a mile further on, we can see the concrete buildings of the little town of Pakbeng but our ship moors at the Lodge where, after a few feet of sand, proper wooden stairs lead up to the large main building of the Lodge. We're allocated to our various wooden 'chalets' which are scattered along the river bank and interconnected by wooden walkways. After a day on the boat, the chalets offer unimagined comfort - two single beds, western W.C., running (cold) water at the washbasin and a shower with warm water provided by a bottled gas wall heater. There's electric light, too (from a local generator), although it's still a little gloomy. There's no internet (of course) but I can charge my camera batteries for the next day.
After a quick shower, I decide to walk into town before it gets dark. Pakbeng is important because it's connected to the South by road and there must be a population of a thousand or so. Apart from the local markets to support the local people, it's clearly devoted itself to tourism as there are substantial concrete hotels and a wide range of restaurants offering Lao-style, Indian and Italian food. Somehow, the whole place exudes the atmosphere of a Western frontier town.
Back at the Lodge, we all take dinner together. I sit with the Big Brother Mouse people, who are overnighting at the Lodge, before continuing part of the way with us tomorrow. The food is Lao-style. By 9.0 p.m., I, and a number of others, are ready for bed and I sleep soundly. Tomorrow, we get back on the boat and continue to Luang
Prabang.
Anantara Resort is in the North of Thailand. Across the Mekong River is Laos, to the left in Shan State, Myanmar. This area is known as the Golden Triangle.
Today, I had a full-day Golden Triangle Excursion.
I started the day with a decent breakfast at the Anantara, sitting by the open doors to the terrace, looking out across the Mekong to Laos beyound. Koon and the driver picked me up on time and we headed a short distance South to Golden Triangle. This is dedicated to tourists with lots of shops and, somehow, a little reminiscent of the Golden Mile at Blackpool. There's a long row of empty market stalls running along the promenade next to the river. When it's open, a lot of Lao cross the river in small boats to sell their stuff. There's a small Thai Immigration post to deal with this traffic. Just of the main road, there's a row of tourist shops leading to the Opium Museum - slightly amateur but a lot of effort has gone into presenting a coherent history of opium which I found very interesting. Then we drove past the inevitable Wat (temple) and up a twisting road to a viewpoint at the top of the hill. From here, you have a good view of the three countries Thailand, Myanmar and Laos.
Next, we head for Chiang Saen and Wat Chedi Luang which date from the 13th century. Only some brickwork remains from the early buildings and restoration has prevented any further deterioration of what's left. But this is still a very active place of worship and a fairly modern overall roof has been provided (but no sides). There's a collection of tourist stalls here. In the street outside, a marching band seems to be forming up for some sort of procession, but it's all fairly relaxed at present.
We then leave Chiang Saen, passing what looks like another part of the procession getting ready.
The area becomes very rural and eventually we reach the mountains in the North and the vehicle has to do some serious climbing to reach Mae Fah Luang. Here, the Princess Mother of the current King established hillside gardens which are open to the public. Now deceased, she was a keen botanist and the gardens have a high-tech propagation centre you can walk through. On the hilltop is the Doi Tung Royal Villa, only around 16 years old. Although concrete, the Villa is built in a style reminiscent of a Swiss Chalet and clad with wood. Parts of the interior are open for public viewing. The view from the terraces across the mountains is certainly imjpre3ssive. We have lunch in a nearby restaurant and checkout the fairly high class tourist shops.
Our vehicle then descends to the plain and heads for the Northernmost tip of Thailand at Mae Nam. (More later)
MAHOUT ELEPHANT TRAINING COURSE
Learn to bathe, feed and care for an elephant. Pick up some elephant commands and explore the forests of Northern Thailand with Anantara Golden Triangle's colourful cast of gentle giants.
Sunrise – 0900 Elephant pick-up, wash down and feeding, driving lessons, ride elephant to hotel lobby.
Early afternoon - 1530 Long walk, mahout lifestyle.
Well, I did it, I found it totally exhausting and it was about the most rewarding animal experience I'm likely to have.
The elephant I rode is a 32-year old female, originally from Chang Mai. I was accompanied by Oi and Seng, who took pictures. Seng also took a video of the elephant washing.
Transfer - hotel to Yangon airport:
Road To Mandalay staff will meet you at the pre-arranged time and take you to the airport.
On arrival Chiang Rai, private arrival transfer from airport to hotel.
3 nights ANANTARA RESORT in a Anantara Suite.
Perched on a ridge overlooking the hills of Myanmar and Laos, Anantara`s Golden Triangle resort is as enchanting as the region in which it is located.
Mr. Win and the regular driver pick me up, as arranged, and Mr. Win says that Doctor Hla Tun will meet us en route. He and the lady doctor arrived back from the Delta Region at four o'clock in the morning. We meet the doctor and he joins us in the car, inviting me to make a copy of his most recent photographs. He's got a camera to USB computer cable so I drag my Notebook out and fire it up. But then we find that the USB connector has suffered mechanical damage and will not work. I haven't got a cable like that, so we take the SD Memory Card out. But I struggle to read that (it's not easy balancing a battery laptop in the back of a car, when the daylight makes the screen difficult to read and every pothole makes you mis-key). I'm not sure yet whether I've got a readable copy. At the airport, I have to say goodbye to all my friends and a courier gets me to check in for the Thai flight to Bangkok, then I'm to get a second flight to Chiang Rai in the North of Thailand. I'm surprised that Thai offer to check my big suitcase right through to Chiang Rai but, if it works, it will be easier for me. Thai have a smallish but comfortable lounge where I can wait for the flight and even do a bit of writing on the Notebook.
It's only an hour's flight to Bangkok but Thai flights are invariably relaxing. Just as well, because arriving at the huge new Bangkok airport is always a bit worrying. But, it all worked out and I got to the Anantara as planned. As an International Arrival, I had to go through Immigration first. Then I tried to follow the signs for 'Transfer to Domestic' but I think something may have gone wrong, because I ended up in the Arrivals Hall with people trying to book me taxis and hotel rooms. I then managed to follow the signs for 'Domestic Departures' but it seemed an awfully long walk. I checked in without incident, and enquired about the Business Lounge. Of course, that was another walk, but at least it offered an oasis of calm. All too soon, I was off to Gate 1 and then via the airbridge, to be welcomed by the stewardess off the Yangon - Bangkok leg! Then I realised that gate B1 was where we had arrived and that we'd got the same aircraft and cabin crew.
We took off on time and made a turn so that we were heading North for Chiang Rai (not to be confused with Chiang Mai). We landed safely and taxied to the terminal where an air bridge was used to get us off. I'd gone through Immigration but my bag hadn't been through Customs, I followed the signs for 'International Arrivals'. My bag turned up so I went through Customs. No sign of a guide, but after a few moments a charming young girl called Koon turned up. Quite logically, she was expecting me through Domestic Arrivals but thought "How many unaccompanied elderly European ladies can be coming in this afternnon?" when she spotted me.
Koon took me to a large, modern personnel carrier and we set off North on the A-2 Highway. The dual carriageway was in good condition but for miles we passed modern strip development. The A-2 goes to the Tai border at the town of Mae Sai where only the river Mai Nam Ruak separates Myanmar from Thailand. Periodically, we passed Thai Police checkpoints, part of the attempt to control the movement of drugs. We don't go all the way to Mae Sai, but turn right for Golden Triangle where Thailand, Laos and Myanmar are separated only by rivers.
We continue for a short distance beyond Golden Triangle and start picking up road signs for the various resort hotels in the district. The Anantara is reputed to be the best. Although it's a modern affair, it's built in traditional style. I'm soon being shown to my second-floor (that's one up from ground using 'American' counting used in a lot of countries) suite. The room is large, with a large external balcony facing the Mekong, a few hundred yards away. The grounds occupy 160 acres so I explore a bit, before it drops dark, and locate the 'Elephant Camp". Although there's broadband over a network cable in my room, I can't get it to work. A number of visits from the Hotel's IT department are required before I get a stable connection. However, I'm being met in the lobby at 7.00 a.m. the next day for my 'Elephant Experience' so bed beckons.
In which I say farewell to Inle Lake and return to the Strand Hotel.
Up at 5.30 a.m. It’s dry and fairly warm but still rather overcast. I take breakfast on the open decking off the dining room, looking West to the distant hills across which the sun is starting to spread its glow. As we both enjoy our meal,I talk to my new friend Beatrice, another independent traveller from England who has family associations with Myanmar. As I finish, my boat arrives with the regular boat driver, Mr. Win and the two leg rowers. We exchange greetings. Then it’s final checkout and my luggage is taken to the ferry dock. Soon we’re on our way. I’m sorry to leave the tranquility of this place but other experiences lie ahead. Back at Nyaung Shwe, we transfer to the car and drive back to Shwe Nyaung, over a road which has now become familiar. This morning we turn left at the junction with the main road to head towards Heho airport.
Part of the route is quite mountainous and twisty. We park near a hairpin bend giving a good view of the railway line as it traverses a bridge built by the British in 1927, so that I can take a photograph. Amazingly, at that moment the morning service from Taung Gyi to Hsi Seng in Shan State passes, the big diesel locomotive working hard to get its train of four coaches and the guard’s van up the grade.
A little further on, there are road works being carried out. The rock face adjacent to the road is being quarried, apparently to provide materials for the road’s foundation. A number of workers are perched on the steep rock face, hacking at the rock with hand tools. It’s all rather primitive.
As we get towards Heho, we pass another gang of men unloading a large drum of telephone cable. I’m told there’s a project to improve the telecommunications in the area – some of the telephones are apparently still magneto ringing types and I’ve seen for myself open wire routes in places.
We park outside the airport at Heho and I say goodbye to Mr. Win and the driver, as they can’t go into the airport. So I get a courier and two porters (one per bag) to get me through the usual formalities and into the departure hall. An Air Mandalay turboprop is the first to arrive and depart but, on time, the Air Bagan Fokker 100 arrives and we’re soon airborne for the 50 minute flight to Yangon.
At Yangon, we park on the apron very near the domestic terminal, but all the passengers still have to squeeze into a ‘bus for a journey of around 75 yards to the arrivals hall. The bags arrive at about the same time and are placed in the middle of the room. Each bag is grabbed by a waiting porter. I virtually have to run to keep my porter in sight but there’s Mr. Win in the public area and everything is fine.
We’re soon in the car and starting the ten mile journey to the Strand Hotel. On the way we pass two neighbourhoods called 'Eight Mile' and 'Five Mile'. I presume this piece of logic is due to the British, because they are situated at the suggested distances from the old city. Once again, I marvel at the variety of traffic. There are many jeeps left behind after the war and fairly carefully restored. Some of the rougher-looking buses are converted Chrysler lorries, again left behind after the war. I notice that a wheel on one of these buses has only four of the intended eight wheel nuts fitted! This is a bit extreme, but many vehicles have one or two wheel nuts missing. The converted pickup is a very common bus, with some passengers on bench seats, the remainder standing or squashed together on a tailboard, clinging on to the welded tubular tilt cover.
The warmth of the welcome at the Strand is always overwhelming. This time, I'm on the second floor. Room layout is the same, but the extra height means I can actually see the river. I'm tired and it's raining so I decide to have a quiet afternoon. I do make one foray to Traders Hotel by taxi (a clean, brown, ancient Mercedes 180, with little in the way of suspension left and a rather problematic gearbox with column shift). Here, I meet Nicolas again and Esther, who was Hotel Manager on the ship but is about to look after a land-based hotel whilst the ship's refit is completed. I also retrieve my Palmtop Computer which I left behind accidentally on my last trip and which the hotel have kept safe for me.
I decide to have dinner in the impressive, colonnaded dining room. For the first hour, I'm the only diner, so four waiting staff and the acoustic guitarist are just for me. An excellent meal - their 'Monsoon Special' featuring a Barramundi main course - nicely presented. Eventually, a few more diners arrive but I'm afraid the hotels in Myanmar are having a hard time of it, especially since Cyclone Nargis.
Breakfast, pick up at 08.30 a.m. and this time, we’re off to Kakku, in the Pa-O part of Shan state. Half an hour on the boat to Nnyaung Shwe and then pick up the car and retrace our steps on the fairly poor road back to Shwe Nyaung. The earth road is usually a good width for two-way traffic, but about half the width has been metalled. Sometimes it’s the left or right half, sometimes it’s a strip down the middle. Either way, maintenance has been minimal, so the edges of the tarmac are broken away and there are potholes everywhere. Still, people prefer driving on the tarmac, so you keep finding traffic heading straight towards you on the metalled strip. At the last moment, the vehicles move towards their correct (right) side of the road and disaster is averted, but only just, and the bumping increases as two wheels run into the dirt.
It’s Full Moon Day in the Buddhist Lent, a bit like a Bank Holiday, so most people are not working today. They put on their best clothes and go to the temple to make an offering. Then, they meet up with friends and family for the rest of the day and generally have a good time. Shwe Nyaung is always busy, but today it’s really crowded. We turn right and head for Taung Gyi. This was used by the British as a Hill Station, in the same way that they adopted Shimla in India. As we approach, you can see why. The road climbs on a series of hairpins, the temperature drops and the landscape appears almost English. Taung Gyi is over 4,000 feet above sea level, so it’s invariably cooler. Today, it's rather grey and overcast and there’s an intermittent drizzle.
We stop at the vineyards of Aythaya Wine – a joint venture between Myanmar and the Germans. All very professional and set up to handle the tourists for wine tasting but very quiet today. We carry on into the town centre. At the hospital, over 100 people are seated on plastic chairs on the verandah, patiently waiting for attention at the emergency department. It’s a big town (I think the population is around 200,000) mainly rather modern, nondescript buildings. We stop outside a fairly impressive multi-storey hotel, clad externally with white tiles. Here we are to pick our guide for Kakku. The politics of the region are rather convoluted. Myanmar incorporates over 100 distinct ethnic group. Here, the Shans predominate but the Pa-O are the next biggest group. A few years ago, as part of a deal to control the insurgency, the Pa-O have been given a designated tourist region including Kakku and visitors must have an authorised Pa-O guide.
We meet a young girl, Pew, dressed in the traditional dress of the area with black tunic and trousers and a multi-coloured scarf wrapped around her head. Then, we set off again with our driver, my guide Mr. Win, Pew and myself. There’s a Check Point at Ta Non Rey as we leave the town centre and Pew has the necessary permit to allow us to proceed. Knowing of my interest in railways, Mr. Win asks if I want to visit the station and, of course, I say yes.
The railway from Taung Gyi to Kakku was only built in 1996, to open up the Pa-O region. There’s a modern station building at Taung Gyi but no passengers at present as there’s only one or two trains to Kakku each day. However, a locomotive is shunting what I presume will be the next train to Kakku so I take a few pictures before we continue for almost a couple of hours, on the worst roads yet, South through rolling hills to Kakku. The Kakku Pagoda is called ‘Long Lost’ but it’s just that people from other parts of Myanmar didn’t go there and, until the recent agreement with the Pa-O, foreigners weren’t allowed to. As we travel, the rain becomes heavier.
The Kakku Pagodas are special to the Pa-O people and by the time we arrive, there are hundreds of people milling around on all the various forms of motorised transport they use in the country areas. There’s a lot of noise from people, mopeds, pick-ups and the strange-looking lorries with the loud Chinese diesel engine. Oh, and there's firecrackers. The rain is monsoon-like and various plastic ponchos, sheets of polythene and umbrellas are being used to protect the bedraggled pilgrims. There’s a large open-sided restaurant overlooking the temple complex and my car nudges under the porte-cochere at the entrance, moving aside dozens of people using its cover to shelter from the rain.
Mr. Win suggests that we have an early lunch there, in the hope that the rain will have abated by the time we finish. He has pre-ordered food with vegetables, fish and little spice to suit my rather bland tastes. The vegetable soup, tomato salad (they’re very big on tomatoes – that’s the main crop from Inle Lake – but that suits me fine) and fresh vegetables are splendid, the fish is OK. The appearance of a foreigner causes a minor stir and lots of people want to see the strange-looking European lady. But they’re all very friendly, and there’s lots of smiling and waving. The rain seems no better so we agree to make a tour notwithstanding. The car takes Mr. Wim, Pew and myself to the entrance where Pew and I discard our shoes and make our way into the complex, over a mixture of concrete and marble paths, with the rain still sluicing down.
The site has well over 2,000 pagodas of various styles and little is known about its history. The locals believe it to be thousands of years old but archaeologists, from stylistic evidence, believe there to be at least three distinct phases, the oldest only 300 years old. Dating is problematic, because many of the pagodas are reduced to grassy mounds. A number of people have paid for the restoration of one or more pagodas (such donations are a sure way of “earning merit” – the former Commander-in-Chief of Shan State has paid for a number of restorations). But this has also proved controversial. Where details of the original design are lost, the restored appearance is the product of imagination, rather than history. There’s also been some criticism of the widespread use of gold paint. Each restored pagoda carries an engraved marble tablet with the details of the benefactor. There are ‘Monastery Style’ pagodas (rectangular, stepped form) ‘Stupa Syle’ (bell-shaped, with a spire) and just one ‘Temple Style’.
The ‘Temple Style’ pagoda has been left as found, roofless and with the remaining walls standing about eight feet above the original floor level. The design is rectangular, with four pointed arches for entrance with a central Buddha image – in this case, a sleeping Buddha on a plinth in the centre. Construction is brick with the original stucco surviving only in places. I’m so interested in clambering around this relic, I fail to notice for a moment that the rain has stopped.
There’s a fairly modern pagoda which is the centre of worship and this is square with four Buddha images. I find it incongruous that the seated guard is armed with a fierce-looking gun. During the morning, people have made offerings of food to the temple, which are collected and will go for pigswill. I can quite see the logic of giving food to the Monks each morning, but am puzzled by the idea of donating food which will be fed to animals. By the time we finish our tour, most of the local people have set off for home and the site is much quieter. We then have the long drive back to Taung Gyi with the rain starting and stopping.
Some of the villages we pass through use traditional, wooden building styles, others use concrete frame with either block or woven bamboo infill. There is partial electrification, using particularly Heath-Robinson techniques. Most villages appear to have large public water tanks, so I assume piped water is not generally available. One village used privet hedges to mark the property boundaries, which, combined with the rolling hills and the rather European-looking trees in these regions, gave a particularly English appearance. This area produces the leaves used in cheroots – a planned visit to a Cheroot Factory had to be cancelled because this Full Moon Day is a public holiday.
We leave Pew at the hotel in Taung Gyi, where a ball game is being played in the rear courtyard by some of the young men. They’re using a cane ball (tending to be replaced by plastic these days, I am told), there’s a high net (like netball) and the ball appears to be kicked upwards with the heel (like Kabaddi). Then we retrace our steps to the ferry port at Nyaung Shwe. Leaving Taung Gyi I notice that the queue at the hospital has reduced to 20 or 30 people waiting. We board our motor boat at the wooden landing stage which, this time, we are sharing with a number of local people doing their afternoon ablutions. As usual, there’s lots of smiling. Our regular boat driver returns me to the quiet of my hotel. By now, it's a balmy evening but the earlier rain has left a rainbow over in the East. The Myanmar people also believe there’s treasure at the end of the rainbow. The boat then returns to Nyaung Shwe with Mr. Wim. A wonderful, if tiring, day.
My pictures of Kakku are here.
My pictures of Taung Gyi station (and other railway pictures in Shan State) are here.
Saturday was equally tiring. Breakfast then off at 9.00 a.m. by boat to a large market near the southern end of the lake. An amazing experience. Then we move on to look at silk weaving at a large and well-organised workshop employing around 80 locals. All the weaving is done on wooden handlooms. All the buildings are on stilts over the lake, so everything comes and goes by boat.
The same is true of the blacksmiths' shop we visit. I'm fascinated by the simple 2-cylinder pump used to provide the air supply for the forge. An old man alternates two bamboo rods up and down. A simple piston at the bottom of the rod is made airtight using – chicken feathers! The raw material is leaves from old lorry laminated springs. I watched them making knives. A suitably-sized piece of steel is made red hot in the forge then transferred to a simple, round anvil, holding it in a pair of tongs. Two hammer men then attack the metal, with the tong man turning the workpiece through 90 degrees between blows. Two more hammer men then join in, until the piece is too cool to work on. The workpiece is returned to the forge and the process repeated. Eventually, they produce a shaped but blunt knife. This is 'edged' not by a wheel (as I expected) but by a two-handled spokeshave with a sharp, steel blade.
We then move on to the Ngwe Zin Yaw cheroot factory. The dexterity of the girls as they roll the product, turning out a cheroot every few seconds is amazing. I think 500 a day is regarded as average output but they're on piecework and a good operator might produce 800 in a day.
Next, Phaung Daw Oo pagoda, with five sacred statues depicting the head of the Buddha. The application of gold leaf offerings to these heads has covered all the features. Next, lunch at a well-appointed restaurant, built on wooden piles in the lakebed. There are no other diners and the associated hotel has had no guests for 3 days. The people of Myanmar are suffering with the drastic reduction in the number of tourists visiting.
The Inn Shwe Pyi is a craft shop with two 'long necked women' as an attraction – I find that rather unsavoury but am fascinated by the weaving they're doing, using a very simple form of loom. Then on to a silversmiths. Most of the output doesn't appeal, but I'm amazed at the size of the showroom and the number of girl sales assistants on hand (at least a dozen), considering that we only saw around six European tourists all day. Whilst we were in the silversmiths, a fierce tropical rainstorm occurred, so we wait for it to finish before venturing out to cruise around a large village where almost every building is built on wooden piles with only water access. We can watch people going about their daily round in this 'water world'. Amazing!
Finally, we stop at a wooden monastery built on teak piles which has survived around 200 years – the Nga Phe Kyaung monastery, made famous by a Western reporter as the 'leapimg cats monastery' because one of the monks had taught cats to jump through hoops. The last of the leaping cats died a few months ago (cat 'flu, I'm told), but there are plenty of non-leaping cats in residence. Then we head across the lake for 'home', passing many Leg Rowers fishing from their tiny craft.
Up around six, buffet breakfast, check out, meet Mr. Win and set off by car to return to Mandalay International Airport, about 1 hour's drive away. Say goodbye and Mr. Win hands me over to two Porters who shepherd me through check-in and security (for money, of course). The Customs people are very friendly and one guy quizzes me on exactly where I'm from – his knowledge of English geography is not bad. Then on to the Departure Hall. This is the busy time of day and various internal flights come and go as I wait, passengers being taken by buses to and from the aircraft. There are automatic glass doors out to the apron, but they're either broken or isolated, because each time people go through, the doors are pried open by hand. A tow truck takes three trailers of luggage out, and I spot my case. A little later, we pile onto the bus and drive out to the Air Bagan Fokker 100. It's Alpha Golf Foxtrot which brought me from Yangon a couple of days ago. A bit overkill for the 20-minute flight to Heho, but then the flight continues to Yangon.
As we fly South-East to Heho, we leave the plain that Mandalay occupies and come to the more mountainous Shan State. We land and taxi up to the fairly modern terminal. Stairs are pushed into place and we have a short walk into the Arrivals Hall where I'm met, not by my guide, but by a courier. He directs me to the Foreigner Immigration desk, where my details are laboriously copied into a register by the smiling clerk. The luggage is placed on the floor of the all-purpose arrivals hall (there's an Information Desk as well, but it's not staffed). The courier and I go outside – still no guide. We have to walk a few yards further and, once past the airport gate, there's a dusty car park with my guide and driver. It's going to take over an hour to drive to the ferry dock at Nyaung Shwe, along twisting, hilly roads and through rather modern-looking villages. Most of the houses around here are substantial constructions, with concrete frames and building block infill, similar to the types found in Thailand which, of course, is not that far away.
We make a stop at the Shwe Yan Pyay monastery. The seminary for the young (around 10 years old) novices is of wooden construction, internally decorated with glass mosaic. It's around 100 years old, with characteristic oval windows. There's a large classroom/temple with a Buddha figure and a separate dormitory decorated with posters of European footballers. A corner of the main room is raised and a little more homely, for the pupil master. A young cat is in residence. We move on to the main pagoda – brick and stucco with hundreds of niches for small Buddha figures. Because it's Buddhist Lent, a monk is intoning the writings of Buddha and this is relayed to people in the area over a loudspeaker system. A little further on we come to the fairly substantial town of Nyaung Shwe, where we stop at the ferry dock. There are Inle Lake Longtail motor boats everywhere, including one to take me to the hotel. While the luggage is being loaded, I visit the scrupulously clean toilet at the modern office building of the local tour company, Tour de Inle Co. Ltd. The chain always intrigues me. I instruct my agents, Wexas, who place an order with VSOE (Venice Simplon Orient Express) who place an order with their subsidiary RTM (Road To Mandalay). They, in turn, use Diethelm Travel as their ground agents. Tour de Inle Co Ltd are the local representative of Diethelm Travel, who retain my guide, Mr. Win.
The boat is fast, but it still takes about half an hour to get to Inle Princess Resort. The first part is a canal but, when we enter the lake, it's not open water but a series of islands criss-crossed by a bewildering series of waterways, sometimes wide, sometimes so narrow the hull scrapes the water hyacinths that are everywhere. At a small township where most buildings are wood and bamboo, raised on stilts, we make a left turn for the hotel.
About half a mile short of the hotel, we stop at a bamboo dock where two leg rowers board and the motor is cut. The Chinese-built diesel engines invariably used on these boats are powerful but noisy, so rowing the last bit means we don't shatter the peace of the resort.
The resort is constructed from wood, painted black, and bamboo in traditional styles. In the centre, the largest building is the dining room where there's a large section of decking next to the lake for outside dining. To the left, the boat dock is a wide series of steps reminiscent of an English rowing club with a waterside reception at the top. On either side, there is a series of guest chalets, each with its own private sun deck. Check-in formalities are minimal and I'm conducted to my Lake View chalet, number 112 (no, there aren't that many chalets, I think there are 46 – I don't know how they get the numbers). On the landward side, there is another series of Mountain View chalets. All right, I admit it, I'm quite impressed by the facilities.
The main room of my chalet is about 20 feet by 25 with walls about 10 feet high and a pitched roof rising another 8-10 feet. These proportions help to keep it cool in summer - there's no air conditioning (works for me) but a multispeed ceiling fan. Part of the main area is partitioned-off for wash basins and a W.C. and a lean-to houses a bath. There's then a private area outside with a shower (odd!) After a shower, I go the Dining Room for my (included) lunch. The soup, vegetables and boiled rice are fine but, although I picked the less-spicy offering, I don't do very well with the rest. And the portions are huge! Then I meet up with Mr. Win at 1.30 p.m. and we go off in the boat again for an afternoon sight-seeing around the lake. The middle of the lake is open water, as you would expect. Depth varies from 8 – 16 feet, depending on the season. The local fishermen normally use locally-made canoes perhaps 12 – 15 feet long, propelled by oar. The 'Leg Rowers' propel the craft by wrapping their foot around the oar and using it as an 'extended limb' whilst balancing on the tiny deck provided either end. Such a boat costs around 150 U.S. Dollars. The motor boat which we're using costs about 2,000 U.S. Dollars. Inle Lake is famous for the 'Cone Net' method of fishing. We come to Indaing along a twisting river, disembark and walk towards the famous Shwe Inn Tain pagoda set on a hill. In addition to the main pagoda, there are over 1,000 stupas in the grounds, most in poor condition, but some refurbished or being refurbished by various sponsors. The tablets set in the renovated stupas show that a number of restorations have been funded by Europeans. Late afternoon, we return to the waiting boat for the journey back to Inle Princess Resort. By the time we arrive, I'm fairly shattered. Dinner, e-mails, then off to bed.
I got up around six, going down to breakfast around seven. Fairly standard buffet breakfast but with lots of choice and plenty of staff on hand to assist. I'd decided to go to Mandalay Palace on foot, although the day was already warm. Walking alongside the East Moat, I was tickled by a man pruning trees – no ladder, he was just climbing and wielding a saw. His bicycle was parked outside the 'drop zone', with the rest of his equipment - a coil of rope (sisal – none of this polypropylene nonsense) and a larger, 2-man saw tied alongside the bicycle frame. Various passers-by greeted me with 'Hello', sometimes followed by 'What Country?'. This is fairly standard world wide, but that's often the extent of their English vocabulary. A surprising number of people in Myanmar have a working knowledge of English and their delivery, though accented, is much easier to follow than in some countries. In Myanmar, it seems to be their curiosity and friendliness which induces them to speak – it's rare that they want to sell you something
.
I found a partial explanation for the dark areas at night when I passed a concrete post with (rather battered) electric cables going up it, a bracket at the top to support the light fitting, but no luminaire. Perhaps the old one went wrong and was never replaced?
I also had a look at the childrens' play equipment set at strategic locations along the promenade. There are two wheels (a bit like a car driving wheel) which you can turn, a swing you stand on (which can be augmented by somebody pressing down on a handle) and a horizontal disc which you can stand on and twist left and right. All these amusements and the methods of construction would, I'm sure, be totally unacceptable back home.
There's a small ticket office at the East Gate where you can buy a ticket to see various cultural monuments, like Mandalay Palace. It took the combined efforts of a man and a women to issue my ticket. The man's contribution was to add my ten U.S. dollar note to the money he already had. The woman did everything else – check my passport, copy salient details to her logbook, copy the same details to the back of my ticket, apply various rubber stamps. Her English was quite good and, after a full briefing, I was allowed in. I think the sensitivity is because, as well as having become a tourist attraction, there are army houses on the site which are off-limits to tourists. Quite what else might be there, I can't say. But everybody is quite friendly and relaxed. I walk along the road to the Golden Palace (which we didn't visit on my last trip). Some sense of mischief induces me to pretend not to see the ticket desk, but the young man comes to find me. At his desk, he solemnly adds the details from my ticket to his log, then I'm allowed to pass. The wooden series of buildings is quite impressive, although not that old. When I can, I'll post my pictures but suffice to say I was happy for some time moving from room to room and building to building. Outside, there's a watchtower you can climb. The modern Watchtower at Bagan appears to be a large version of this original.
The first time I came to Mandalay Palace, I spotted a couple of derelict locomotives from an abandoned miniature railway, and I was determined to follow it up. The tracks led to an abandoned station. I let myself into the compound by a side gate and walk to the improbable-looking locomotives. The next bit can be omitted if you're not into railways.
RAILSPEAK ON
The two locomotives appear to be converted tractors. 'DB52-[610]' is a diesel mechanical, diesel outline with a maker's plate 'Ywataung 1989' and 'MR' (perhaps the line was called the 'Mandalay Railway'?). '610' is presumably the track gauge in millimetres – about 2 feet). In Whytes Notation, the wheel arrangement is 2-2-0 (which, if you think about it, is what tractors generally are). 'DB.55 (610)' is a diesel mechanical steam outline with a similar general layout but all wheels are missing. In fact, anything that can be removed and carried away on both locomotives is missing.
RAILSPEAK OFF
A workman asks me what I'm doing but is quite happy with my explanation. There's a security guard by the main gate at the station who's clearly seen me, so I go to speak to him. Again, he's perfectly happy. He tries to unchain the main gate to let me out but fails, so I offer to climb over the low gate – I've spotted the marks where people have clearly be climbing over for some time and we part smiles and waves. There are some coaches in the distance, but I decide to give them a miss and start to walk towards the South Gate. A real soldier, quite smart in a white helmet, approaches and, rather apologetically says that 'Foreigners must use the East Gate'. Once again, it's all smiles and he gives me a smart salute as I turn back and retrace my steps to the Golden Palace. Here, an old man greets me with 'Hello' and engages me in conversation. His English is quite good. But he is selling his services as a trishaw driver. "It is a long way and it's very hot" he says and quotes me a sensible price in local currency 'Kyats'. Well, he's right, it's a long way and hot, so I agree. He wheels out his steed – an elderly bicycle with a sidecar providing one passenger seat facing forwards and a smaller one facing back. I take the front seat and we set off. He's tough and wiry and makes good, steady progress. He talks for a while but everybody he passes who knows him, even military, ask where he's got a fare to. We soon arrive at the hotel and he is very pleased with the over-payment I make, but I'm happy too.
I take a while to send out some e-mails before the internet goes down again (which it duly did, late afternoon). Then, I take the Land Cruiser with Tony again to the Marble Shop to see if we can do a deal. We can, and everybody is happy. On the way back, Tony detours to let me take some pictures around Mandalay Railway Station and we watch a local train depart. As the train moves down the platform, numerous people jump on. One man with an absolutely huge package struggles to force it through one of the open windows before moving to the nearest open doorway and hauling himself aboard. Finally, a young boy jumps up onto the rear of the last vehicle (a footstep which I think is provided for shunters) and is carried away into the distance. I decide to have a late lunch (a glorious mushroom soup with a can of 'Coke') before allowing myself an afternoon nap. I leave tomorrow morning, so I decide to remain in the hotel for the rest of the day. I spend some time writing up my activities and marshalling my photographs before taking a leisurely dinner. Then it's more writing and, to my dismay, the Night Club starts up again a little before nine. Packing to do and then to bed.
Jan's blog will be maintained, both in her memory and also as a source of reference material in many areas of interest. New posts will be added, to continue to record the ongoing influence of Jan's work and life.
Jan:
I've been an electronics engineer for over 57 years and I'm interested in travel, history, architecture, the industrial revolution, science, railways and, well, lots of things. I believe in what one of my heroes, Richard Feynman, called "The Pleasure of Finding Things Out".
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