Here's what happened on Thursday:-
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.
