Louang Prabang

Sunday 21st September 2008

Here's what the itinerary has to say:-

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.

Cruising the Mekong

Saturday 20th September 2008

This is what's supposed to happen:-

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.

Into Laos

Friday 19th September 2008

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.

The Golden Triangle

Thursday 18th September 2008

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)

Elephant Camp

I let Sindy at Wexas talk me into the following:-

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.

Back in Thailand

Tuesday 16th September 2008

This is what the itinerary promises:-

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.

Return to Yangon

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.

Kakku

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.

Around Lake Inle

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.

Mandalay to Inle Lake

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.

Exploring Mandalay

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.

On to Mandalay

I slept very well, woken by a Morning Call from the Hotel at 5.30 a.m. (a few minutes before my back-up travel alarm went off). A nicely-presented light breakfast, exactly as ordered, appeared about 15 minutes later, so I was in reception ready to go at 6.30 a.m. A smiling Mr. Win was already there, so we were soon on our way to Yangon's Domestic terminal (next to the International Terminal) in good time to arrive just before 7.00 a.m. Check-in was painless, so I was soon in the already-hot departure hall (no nonsense about air conditioning here). After about 40 minutes, the flight was called. No nonsense about public address, either. A guy walks round shouting, carrying a board displaying the flight number. A transfer bus soon shuttled us across the apron to the waiting Air Bagan Fokker 100. This is a fairly elderly twin jet with a high T-tail and the two engines near the rear, but it was immaculate internally, in the rather handsome Air Bagan colours of pale blue and green with gold highlights. I was quite impressed that we were airborne a few minutes before our booked departure time of 8.00 a.m. The flight was less than an hour, but the friendly flight crew served a simple but good snack of a croissant, tea or coffee (with a second cup offered) and water or soft drink. Internal seating layout in economy is 2+3. I had a port side window seat with the adjacent seat empty, so I was feeling quite happy when we landed at Mandalay International.

Although dubbed ‘International’, there’s no regular service to other countries but, in the tourist season, charter flights arrive from Europe. There was a few minutes wait for the bags to arrive, but I’d spotted my guide (another Mr. Win) waiting in the public area through the window, so we’d already exchanged hand signals. Reunited with my bag, I joined the guide, met his driver and we were off. The new airport is about a hour's drive from Mandalay itself, the first part a rather sub-standard dual carriageway through flat and rather barren territory. Although there were a few cars, most of the traffic seemed to be charcoal burners taking their product to sell in the towns, using various ramshackle bicycles and tricycles. Mr. Win said that most people still use charcoal – the gas which Myanmar produces is far too expensive. Myanmar, once an oil producer, now has to import crude oil which is refined near Yangon.

Part of our route was a privately-owned toll road. There were noticeably fewer potholes on this section than on the Government roads. Two Myanmar flags displayed in the front window of our car indicated that an annual fee had been paid, so we didn’t have to stop to pay the toll.

We passed through a number of small towns which made a fascinating sight. Walking through Yangon yesterday reminded me how different the lifestyle is from what we’re accustomed to in Europe. But looking at these small towns, they could almost be on a different planet. Imagine a series of petrol stations, in competition, along a dusty road where the traffic is a mixture of pedal bicycles, mopeds, jeeps, trucks and the odd-looking home-brewed lorry. These lorries have something like a Briggs & Stratton engine mounted in the open air up front, belt driving a dubious-looking transmission with the appearance of being assembled from components found in the scrap bin (which, indeed, was probably the case in some instances). The smaller filling stations comprise a welded frame supporting a 5-gallon round steel tank for fuel about six feet above the ground. A flexible discharge pipe allows the fuel to be delivered to the customer and a second round tank is sometimes provided at ground level, presumably to reduce waste at the end of the filling operation. Nearby, you’ll find a decrepit bamboo easy chair where the proprietor seems to spend most of his time. The more prosperous establishments may have a second rack displaying a series of 5-gallon plastic containers, presumably to impress you with their turnover. Yet other businesses will display oil and there may be simple repairs in progress, like replacing the tyre on a moped. A rustic bamboo shelter may be a hardware store, with an enticing variety of products laid out in front. Everywhere there are people, standing, squatting, lying, sitting. Work is taking place, but there is little sense of urgency apparent.

Eventually we get to New Mandalay, an industrial development area with larger factories like steel fabricators or manfacturers of pre-assembled building components. Soon, we’re entering central Mandalay and running East along 26th Street which flanks the moat and walls of the Mandalay Palace site. The Palace site is a perfect square, over one mile per side. The Sedona hotel is situated opposite the South-Eastern corner of the moat.

Sedona is the hotel arm of Keppel-Land from Singapore. The Sedona Mandalay is modern and large with 247 rooms – not exactly likely to appeal to me, but I’m disarmed by the warmth of the welcome and the number of staff fussing round. After arranging the time of the return to the airport at the end of my 2-day stay, Mr. Win departs and the staff show me to my suite on the fourth floor. I’m impressed, particularly by the message on the large bed spelt out in petals ‘WELCOME TO SEDONA’. I couldn’t bring myself to disturb it until the evening. My room is at the front and the two large windows command splendid views along the Eastern moat with Mandalay Hill and its many gilded temples rising up at the far end. (Hotel Pictures).

I’m assured my Notebook computer should work on the hotel’s high-speed network in my room but I can’t get it to auto-configure. But the hotel’s IT manager soon sorts out the settings and proudly shows me the Google home page. Unfortunately, that and Googlemail is about all I can get. Most other things I try to get are filtered out. Oddly, I can update my photo site but not look at it. The ‘FTP’ methods of adding photos are barred, as well. I can neither read my blog, nor write to it. Oh well. By the evening, even the restricted service has stopped and it’s the next day before it’s restored!

Last time I was in Mandalay, I was impressed by the work of the marble carvers, so I decided to hire the hotel Land Cruiser with Tony, one of the hotel’s uniformed porters, as driver and guide and revisit the area, then going on to Mandalay Hill. I spent some time looking around the marble shops (Pictures). The second shop was one I’d been to on my first trip and I found a statue I rather liked (first quality, of course). We then followed the sales lady on her moped to their warehouse to look at some other similar statues, second quality and hence cheaper. Then we returned to the shop and I decided I preferred my original choice. A shipping agent was summoned to work out costs for packing and freight to our nearest (inland) port, Birmingham. There’s then duty, VAT and shipment the rest of the way. The costs mount up! I told them I’d think about it overnight so we left the shop and Tony drove me to Mandalay Hill.

Mandalay Hill is cone-shaped, rising out of the plain, heavily wooded and requiring a series of hairpins to get the road up to the car park near the temple on the summit. Tony said there’s an escalator to get up to the temple and an elevator to get down but, when he enquired, neither was running for another hour. The break time apparently varies according to the electricity supply. In any case, it seemed strange to me having such devices in a Buddhist temple – surely there’s no Merit in ascending without effort. So, shoe-less, I set off up the winding steps the rest of the way, amazed at how many stalls lined the steps selling religious and secular items of a general ‘tacky’ nature. The businesses appear to be aimed at indigenous pilgrims. Whilst some people greeted me with “Hello” or a smile, there was no attempt to sell. Despite the occasional radio, there was a peacefulness to the place – certainly a ‘sacred space’. The views from the top were stunning. A number of workman were engaged in repairs to the various structures. It must be a continuous battle to keep such exposed locations in good order. I found two other sets of covered steps which appeared to descend most of the way to the plain, presumably for serious pilgrims. There are some pictures of Mandalay Hill here. I return to Tony and the waiting Land Cruiser elated but exhausted (temperatures were around 35 degrees).

After a shower and a nap I decide to take an early dinner. The ‘Set Menu’ is included so I decide to try it. I forget exactly how the menu described it, but it was basically an egg and french onion soup, fish in a cream sauce with potato and, to finish, ice cream with miniature eclairs. In practice, it was superb – fresh ingredients, subtle flavours and imaginative presentation. The electricity went off three times during the meal and once later, but each time it was restored within a few seconds. I watched the marionette show laid on in the lobby for a few minutes but there were not many guests watching. My bed had been ‘turned down’, leaving a ‘Good Night’ card, a flower, small biscuits in a box folded from paper and a tiny bird, again folded from paper. When I returned later, the traditional dance display was in progress but appeared to have no audience – so disappointing for the performers. However, I was determined to take a walk although it was dark outside. I headed West on 26th Street. Street lighting appears very intermittent – a few sodium lights relieve the gloom, then there will be a patch with no lights, lit only by the headlights of cars and mopeds. Despite the British involvement, traffic drives on the right. Speeds are moderate and driving is not aggressive. Whilst the horn is frequently employed, it’s the soft ‘beep’ which says “Hey, I’m here”. The lane nearest the kerb is reserved for pedal cycles, which are never lit and only sometimes have bells. Pedestrians seem to walk in the gutter, not quite as dangerous as it sounds because bicycles will try to avoid you if they see you.

Walking on the narrow pavements is a no-no. At least half the width is a concrete duct or trough, presumably for drainage. The trough should be closed by a series of pre-cast concrete lids, but these are frequently misplaced, broken or just missing, threatening broken limbs. The other half of the pavement often has a series of trees or posts for frequent road signs, so that’s unsuitable for walking, too. Eventually, I crossed over the dual carriageway to the moat side (crossing was a bit scary), where there is a broad promenade which is much easier to negotiate. It seems to be a favoured hangout for young people. Couples given anonymity by the darkness were ‘necking’ in a very European way. Some people were just chatting. Others were hunched over an unearthly blue glow – the joys of texting have arrived in Myanmar, I presume. A few major traffic light controlled junctions have high lighting posts and are much better lit. I also spotted a number of CCTV traffic cameras. All the benefits of Western so-called Civilisation are making an appearance in Myanmar, I’m afraid.

I managed to cross the dual carriageway again safely and enter 76th Street. Although a major thoroughfare, the pavements were in poor condition, widening in front of shops, but that space was greedily taken over by the shopkeeper, often to house an electric generator. Some of these were fairly modern ‘package’ types, some were portables in a tubular frame. In Yangon I saw an apparently home-made ‘Lister’ type engine mounted on a bedplate with a separate generator. The two were linked by an unguarded belt drive and the whole contraption roared away in the middle of the narrow pavement emitting black smoke. Incidentally, the pavement ducts in Yangon, with their pre-cast covers, are invariably worse than in Mandalay, looking for all the world as if an earthquake has just occurred. There are also frequent holes where excavations have been made, perhaps for a new water pipe, but then matters have been abandoned. “Elf’n’Safety” has not yet quite arrived (for which relief, much thanks, I’m inclined to add).

So after all this walking through Mandalay, strange to relate, my footsteps had led me to Mandalay’s modern railway station, just before the 9.0 p.m. overnight train to Yangon (which I think takes a leisurely 15 hours over the 420 mile journey) was due to depart. The station was thronged with waiting passengers. Those on Platform 2 and the higher numbers seemed to be bedding-down (literally) for a long wait. There seemed more anticipation on platform 1, so I correctly inferred this was where the train would arrive. I could hear activity at the North end, so I walked to the platform ramp in time to see the coaches for the service propelled in. The gangway of the end coach was open and railway staff (I assume) were looking out. A warning bell was ringing American-style. I lost count of the coaches, but it was a long train of ‘ORDINARY’ and ‘UPPER CLASS’ vehicles which, at least in the dark, looked quite smart. I didn’t spot any evidence of air conditioning anywhere. There was at least one shunter on the platform, calling the train on with a white LED torch. My (very indifferent) pictures have been added to my 'Railways in Myanmar' collection.

RAILSPEAK ON
I’m told the coaches are Chinese-built. I can’t confirm that, but it seems likely. They’ve chopper couplers but, in the dark, I couldn’t determine the braking system. I expect 1-pipe air. Fairly modern bogie design. Very obvious was the drive to the dynamo/alternator. A large pulley is fitted to the end of the axle, driving a small pulley on the generator through a belt. I assume this is to get the generator spinning fast enough at the moderate train speeds. A sheet metal cover is supposed to be fitted over the exposed belting but, in a number of cases, it was missing.

The last vehicle on the train was a bogie guard's Van, but next I was surprised to see a bogie flat car, clearly being used as a shunters’ truck and, finally, the locomotive. The shunting locomotive was, I suppose, a diesel electric, certainly carried on two bogies. The shunters quickly uncoupled the flat car from the Brake Van and, beckoned by a position light ground signal, the driver sounded a peremptory blast on the horn and disappeared back into the darkness.
RAILSPEAK OFF

I didn’t stop to see the train depart, but walked back to my hotel, footsore but happy on arrival. I was less happy, later, when the Night Club attached to the hotel started playing loud rock music which went on until a quarter to one in the morning – and the internet was down! But, eventually , I got to sleep after a pretty good day.

Flying to Myanmar

Dinner at the Western Park Chinese Restaurant, Yangon.

Last night I slept soundly, if briefly, for I'd booked an alarm call for 4.0 a.m. Fifteen minutes later, two cheerful waiters delivered a continental breakfast as I uploaded some of yesterday's pictures to my photo site. Finish packing, downstairs to reception and at 5.0 a.m. Julie arrives with the car to return me to the airport. The Oriental definitely seems like home and I'd happily stay longer. It's still pitch dark as we set off from the hotel, which means that the toll road to the airport is still quiet - in less than an hour it will be starting to clog-up. The massive new passenger terminal is also quiet, so I'm checked in on the TG303 to Yangon in a few minutes. The duty-free shopping mall is open and ready for business but there aren't yet many takers. I have the usual problems locating the Business Lounge but get there at 6.0 a.m., with about an hour to kill. Thai have an unencrypted Wi-Fi so you may imagine me in an armchair, laptop balanced on my knees, looking out across the apron, which buzzes with traffic, transfer buses, vans and tugs each with a string of six luggage trailers. Isn't technology wonderful (when it works)? Let's hope my flight to Yangon works. This is what my itinerary says about my arrival in Yangon:-

Transfer - Yangon airport to hotel. After clearing customs and immigration (this may take some time), a Road To Mandalay representative will meet you in the arrivals area and escort you to your hotel.
The Strand - Superior Suite
Accommodation: 1-DOUBLE FOR SOLE USE
Arrive: 09 September Depart: 10 September
Your accommodation includes American breakfast.
Built in 1901, this Colonial hotel offers suites with high ceilings, polished wooden floors and tasteful furnishings and a deluxe bathroom. Dining facilities include The Strand Cafe offering a menu featuring Burmese and Western cuisine, and the Strand Grill with a classical menu. Check-in time is from 14.00 and check out time between 11am and noon. Room availability outside these times is at the discretion of the hotel.

It worked rather well, in fact. The Thai A300-600 was a little late away, waiting for our 'slot time', but still arrived around right time. The flight duration is just over an hour so the Thai cabin staff have to be pretty smart serving the well-presented continental breakfast, which they did with their usual professionalism and good humour.

Yangon International Airport is diminuitive compared with Bangkok but it has a modern terminal building with air bridges so within a few minutes I was inside the terminal and faced with a refreshingly short walk to Immigration. Formalities were completed quickly and with a beaming smile from the one girl as she returned my stamped passport. It took a little longer for my checked baggage to arrive on the luggage carousel then it was on to Customs. I'd taken the precaution of declaring my Notebook Computer and Digital Camera as 'temporary imports' but the girl in customs assured me, with another welcoming smile, that it was not necessary to declare them. Then into the public area and head for the sign with my name on it. As I introduce myself to the representative, the captain of 'Road to Mandalay', Myo Lwin, approaches, warmly welcomes me and then introduces his wife, who's also there. Finally, Doctor Hla Tun appears and there are more greetings. What a wonderful and unexpected welcome! The Captain and his wife leave but I am to see them again in the evening as I am invited to dinner at a well-known Chinese restaurant in Yangon.

The Doctor accompanies me to the Strand Hotel where there is an equally effusive 'welcome back' from all the staff. (My hotel pictures). The new hotel manager introduces himself and we chat for a few minutes before moving on to my room where the Doctor spends some time telling me more about the five visits he has made to the Delta (the area of Myanmar worst affected by Cyclone Nargis) treating medical conditions resulting from the Cyclone. The next day, the Doctor will leave for another trip, this time to be accompanied by an Italian lady doctor educated and currently working in England.

In the afternoon, I walk to Trader's Hotel, to see the 'Road to Mandalay' offices and meet Nicholas who manages them. I explore a little more of the city on foot, taking a few pictures which I've added to my Yangon Collection. I can't resist taking a few more photographs of the railway - see Circle Line pictures) and I return to the hotel shattered as, after an overcast start to the day, the afternoon became sunny and very hot. There's just time for a little nap before getting ready to be picked up by the Doctor. The Doctor arrives with his charming wife and eldest son and we drive along Strand Road to the restaurant. The Captain, his wife and the Lady Doctor are already there and we have a very convivial meal featuring Peking Duck. There's discussion about the damage to 'Road to Mandalay' and when she will resume service and I accept the Captain's suggestion that I should try to be on her new 'Maiden Voyage'. When the party breaks up, the Doctor runs me back to the Strand, allowing me to make this post. I don't know when I'll be able to report next, but here's what the Itinerary promises for tomorrow:-

Wednesday 10 September 08 Transfer - hotel to Yangon airport. Road To Mandalay staff will meet you at the pre-arranged time and take you to the airport. Our staff will reconfirm timings on your arrival in Myanmar. The flight will be operated by Air Mandalay or Yangon Airways ATR72 or ATR42 Aircraft (or similar), your free baggage allowance is 20KGS per person and note that space on board for hand luggage is very limited. Air Bagan flight W9 009 confirmed Yangon-Mandalay 06.30-08.20. Transfer - Mandalay airport to hotel. On arrival of your flight, your guide will be waiting to accompany you to your hotel.
Sedona Mandalay-Club Suite
Accommodation: 1-SUITE FOR SOLE USE
Arrive: 10 September Depart: 12 September
Your accommodation includes full board.
Set in a four acre landscaped garden, and facing the city`s glorious sights of Mandalay Palace & Mandalay Hill, the hotel offers a range of dining facilities and leisure facilities include an outdoor pool, tennis courts and fitness centre.

Well, I doubt if I'll be troubling the tennis courts.

Briefly in Bangkok

The 'River of Kings' in Bangkok, adjacent to the Oriental Hotel.

My flight from Dubai made a straight-in approach to runway 19R, landing at about 12.30 in the afternoon on Monday 8th. It took about ten minutes to taxi to the terminal but, as soon as we stopped, two air bridges coupled up to let us off. I was in the 'first wave' and passport control was a breeze. It took about ten minutes for my bag to turn up, then it was through customs to find my 'Meeter and Greeter', Julie. She then went off to track down the car and driver and we were soon on the elevated toll road heading for Bangkok and the Oriental Hotel. I'd stayed at the Oriental once before. This time, they'd put me in the 'Garden Wing' which, although modern and multi-storey, is on a more intimate scale than the 'River Wing'. All the staff will 'Wei' to you (the Thai version of bowing) and wish you good-day with 'Saswadee ka'. They get through a lot of flowers - on arrival I was presented with the wrist-sized Thai equivalent to the Hawaiin 'Lei', the 'Welcome Drink' (fruit juice) was accompanied by a tiny basket of flowers. In fact, most transactions come decorated with a flower somewhere. The room had a lounge area overlooking the 'River of Kings' and seven steps leading up to the sleeping area, with a small window looking out across the city on the landward side. A well-appointed bathroom led off the sleeping area. Hotel pictures.

After a quick shower and a change of clothes, I decided to make a brief trip out. The Oriental has its own landing stage and a private ferry shuttles from the hotel to more facilities on the opposite bank and downstream a few hundred yards to Taksin Bridge. Taksin is, currently, the final station on the elevated mass-transit 'Skytrain' (My 'Skytrain' pictures). Just three stops takes me to Sala Daeng station, with directions from my hotel on finding a nearby bookshop in Thaniya Plaza. First, I walk to Rama IV Road to watch the build-up of traffic and admire the statue of King Rama VI set in the corner of Lumphini Park. (My Bangkok pictures). After a little walking, I spot Thaniya Plaza and its shopping mall. The specialities seem to be reproduction antiques and golf equipment but there's also a branch of Asia Books where I buy a 'Lonely Planet' Guide Book (I won't say where to - that would spoil the surprise). I'm surprised to be asked "Do you want a plastic cover?" At no extra cost, the bookseller takes a piece of clear plastic and expertly makes a slip cover secured with 'Sellotape'.

By the time I'm back outside with my purchase, there's a furious tropical downpour so I make my way back to the Skytrain station and return to Taksin. By the time we arrive at Taksin, the rain has abated. The hotel ferry has just brought some guests from the hotel, so I'm able to jump straight on for the short journey back to the hotel. I can't resist going to the Authors' Lobby for English-style afternoon tea and scones with clotted cream and a selection of jams. It's almost six p.m. as I get back to my room (we're six hours ahead of the U.K.) and rapidly getting dark, as it does in these latitudes. I'm fairly tired at this stage so, with an early start tomorrow, I relax in my room and prepare this report, using my Notebook Computer and the hotel's (chargeable) broadband facilities.

There's time for a walk around the hotel to remind myself of some of the facilities. The string quartet still play in the main reception in the evening, largely ignored by the people hurrying in and out of the hotel. Dinner on the terrace is still accompanied by jazz from a trio of keyboard, electric guitar and female vocalist. There's music, too, in the 'Bamboo Bar', but not 'till later. Over the river, the hotel's 'Sala Rim Nam' restaurant offers Thai cuisine with Thai music and dance. The 'China House' (where I dined on my last visit) offers Chinese-style food in a preserved colonial-era villa. The 'Verandah' is more coffee-shop casual dining. Then there's 'Le Normandie' for French cuisine and 'Lord Jim's' for international cuisine and seafood. Or, of course, you can eat in your room.

The mynah birds still live in a large aviary outside the authors' wing and chatter to the passing guests - they've been in residence for 11 years now. I think the hotel's tradition goes back almost 150 years, right to the start of the opening of Siam to the Western World. But, alas, Bangkok is just a staging-post on this trip for tomorrow I'm due to fly to Yangon.

The Game's Afoot!

Here we go again! It’s one o’clock on a Sunday afternoon and I’m at Birmingham Airport. I haven’t flown from Birmingham since my almost-disastrous departure to the Ukraine a few years ago (I’ll tell you about it, one day). The amount of new building at the airport is amazing, but it remains a very cramped site. Sunday lunchtime seems a very popular time to travel and the Check-in Hall is seriously crowded. Fortunately, things are a little quieter in the ‘Emirates’ zone and there are a couple of desks for business passengers, so I’m checked in within a few minutes.

But next, a brief railway interlude (bet that surprises you). The ill-fated ‘Maglev’ train which formerly linked Terminal 1 with the Network Rail Station at Birmingham International has been rebuilt as a cable-hauled ‘Air-Train’. I take the opportunity to make a round trip on the driverless 2-car trains. I’m intrigued that what’s basically very old technology (similar to the San Francisco Cable Cars) can still offer a practical solution.

Back at Terminal 1, Departures Level, there is an amazing queue of passengers snaking back and forth, blocking access to the shops and generally creating the sort of mayhem that I associate with Heathrow. Fortunately, my boarding card is stamped for ‘Priority Access’ so, once I can find the entrance to the lane, things move rather faster for me and I’m soon looking for the ‘Servisair’ lounge which deals with Emirates Business Passengers. It’s a fairly small lounge and quite crowded, but it represents a relative haven of tranquility compared with the scrum outside. Modern air travel has become so stressful that one of the main advantages of a business ticket is the partial reduction in the hassle involved in passing through airports.

I’ve never flown with Emirates before, but they get some good ratings. When my agents were looking for a decent fare to the Far East for this trip, Emirates had a reasonable offer, so I agreed to try them. The first flight takes me to Dubai, then a second flight should take me on to Bangkok. If you’ve read my posts on my last major trip (‘RTW5’) you’ll know that I was very taken with Myanmar and the river cruise on the ‘Road to Mandalay’. In fact, I’d booked to take a different cruise on the same ship in September (that is, now), and the Emirates flights were intended to get me to Bangkok in connection with the cruise. But then Cyclone Nargis hit Myanmar, causing chaos that was only partly reported by the Western Media. The ‘Road to Mandalay’ was in dry dock at Yangon at the time and was seriously damaged, resulting in the whole of the 2008 cruise programme being cancelled. The down side of special air fares is that there may be restrictions on altering or cancelling flights. I had the choice of forfeiting the fare I’d paid or building another trip around the Emirates flights already booked.

In connection with my agents, Wexas, we designed a different trip and that’s what I’m about to start. Wexas, based in London, bill themselves as a ‘Travel Club’. They cater for ‘serious travellers’ and all their consultants are personally committed to travel. Once I come up with some idea of what I’d like to do, they will do the research to put some flesh on it and advise what’s possible. There’s then a period of refinement where they make suggestions and I make counter suggestions until we end up with a plan which is both appealing and possible. Working with the same consultants over a number of years means that I don’t have to explain my preferences and usually any suggestions they make will be attractive. It’s a relationship that’s produced some fairly amazing trips.

Greetings from Dubai, where I'm transiting on my way to Bangkok. I left Birmingham on Sunday afternoon about 3.0 p.m. (about 45 minutes late on schedule) on an Emirates 777-300-ER, and arrived Dubai about 1.0 a.m. local time. I'll add more details as possible. Dubai airport proved a mixed experience. On landing, we taxied for about ten minutes before finding our stand way out on the apron. Four modern buses were waiting to transfer passengers. Business class was offloaded first through the front stairs and we had a rather uncomfortable stop-and-start progress past the Cargo Centre, the In-flight Catering Centre, finally arriving at the terminal after a good 15 minutes in the bus. The terminal doors admit us to a noisy mass of people off various flights all trying to get through the security procedures before being let loose in the terminal. I'd been given printed transit instructions at Birmingham which proved useless because they've re-numbered all the gates. Apparently, this intelligence has not yet filtered through to Birmingham. After wandering round aimlessly for a while, I went to a KLM Lounge, where a charming girl phoned to check my gate number and then gave me directions to the Emirates Business Lounge nearest that gate. I've always had a soft spot for KLM. The Emirates lounge was busy but well-appointed. I couldn't get my computer to connect to any of the Wi-Fi but found a bank of (rather slow) internet computers which allowed me to get the first version of this post onto Blogger.

I got to the departure gate in good time but, the process of getting another bus back to the new flight meant that it was about an hour before we started to taxi to the runway. Around six hours flying would take us to Bangkok's huge relatively-new Suvarnabhumi airport. The seating layout in business is 2-3-2, which I'm not keen on. Birmingham to Dubai, I was stuck in the middle one of three but Dubai to Bangkok I had 2A window seat. Mind you, they pulled the shades for most of the flight to Bangkok and kept the cabin lighting dim to encourage people to sleep. Service and food was fairly good but the most impressive feature was probably the On-Demand entertainment system boasting over 600 channels of films, television, music and audio. On the two legs I watched three films - the latest Indiana Jones (I wasn't very impressed), 'The Bank Job' which did impress and the recent 'St. Trinians' (some OK moments but totally lacking the charm of the originals).

Ivor: The best laid plans...

'Dai Station' reads the local paper's report on 'Ivor'.

In my previous 'Ivor' post in 2008, I described how we spent the day giving shuttle rides with one car of the 2-car diesel railcar. A similar operation was planned for the following Saturday, 23rd August, but plans don't always work out as intended.

This time, I was 'marked' as driver on the Diesel Multiple Unit (back to a two-car formation with the brakes repaired). Preparing the DMU for service isn't quite as simple as 'turn the key and go' but it's much quicker than on steam, so I had the luxury of signing-on around 08:30, instead of a couple of hours earlier for steam. Before running passenger trains, an inspection run is normally carried out along the length of the line, visually checking that the track and route is safe. My arrival time allowed for the DMU to carry out this inspection.

'Mayflower' was to operate the service train. On arrival at the shed I found the '02' diesel mechanical shunter next to 'Yvonne' not in steam, then 'Ivor', wreathed in smoke and finally 'Mayflower', with its crew completing preparation. There was no driver present for 'Ivor' and the trainee fireman had 'blacked-out' the fire so as to produce plenty of acrid smoke but not a lot of heat. So my thought of having a nice, clean day went out of the window as we set about improving matters in Ivor's firebox. It was clearly going to be some time before 'Ivor' would be in steam, so I made my way to the DMU siding to get the 2-car unit ready. Gerald said that the '02' would not start and I knew that, if the worst came to the worst, we could shunt with the DMU. However, Gerald had located a battery charger, allowing the '02' to be put on charge for a while. Eventually, the '02' started-up so I moved the DMU to the north end of platform 1. This allowed the '02' to drag 'Yvonne', 'Ivor' and 'Mayflower' into the south end of platform 1. 'Mayflower' was uncoupled and made her way to platform 2, ready to take the first Shenton service at 10:55. The '02' propelled 'Yvonne' and 'Ivor' to the outside pit. 'Ivor' was still struggling to make steam but I had to leave again to make the inspection run to Shenton with the DMU. On my return, 'Ivor' was 'off the mark' but steam pressure was rising only slowly. It had been suggested that the smoke tubes were blocked and, although I was dubious, we carried out a quick 'tubing', after the '02' had returned to the shed road with 'Yvonne'. The 'tubing' dislodged very little soot but, at long last, we had a decent, bright fire and pressure started to rise.

Now it was time to "oil-round" 'Ivor'. Most of this was carried out by the trainee under instruction as, once 'Mayflower' returned from Shenton, I was scheduled to take the DMU on a shuttle trip up the line to Headley's Crossing. After the shuttle trip, the DMU was 'stabled' in platform 1 and I returned to a much happier 'Ivor'. Once the second Shenton service had left, 'Ivor' was able to move into platform 1, where all available hands made the locomotive a bit more presentable. Before 'Mayflower' returned, 'Ivor' had to be parked out of the way, allowing 'Mayflower' to run round whilst the DMU was on its second shuttle trip to Headley's.

So, for the rest of the day, this pattern repeated, with the DMU dashing up to Headley's each time 'Mayflower' arrived back and 'Ivor' standing in the platform (or steaming up and down the platform) but moving out of platform 1 when 'Mayflower' returned. When 'out of the way' was the north end sidings, the coal bunker on 'Ivor' was replenished. There was a variation when the service train arrived back after the fourth trip. This time, the DMU had been positioned in platform 2 so that 'Mayflower' could arrive in platform 1. Once the DMU had disappeared up the line on the fourth (and last) shuttle, 'Mayflower' could run round, pausing at the water column at the south end of platform 2 to take water. Whilst 'Mayflower' was down the line on the fifth run, the DMU was disposed in the DMU siding. Finally, 'Ivor' made a final appearance in platform 1 before heading for the outside pit for disposal. Disposal of a steam locomotive is always rather hot and dirty work, particuarly at the end of a shift when everyone is getting tired. Once the job was done, it only remained for the '02' (still coupled to 'Yvonne') to pick up 'Ivor' and put 'Yvonne' and 'Ivor' in the shed for the night. The '02' was stabled just outside the shed.

After working on 'Ivor' and the DMU on Saturday, I was happy to have a day off on Sunday. But I was 'marked' as DMU driver again on Bank Holiday Monday, 25th August. The weather was kind and we had lots of visitors. This time, 'Ivor' had a driver, so I was able to stick to my rostered 'diagram', doing a line inspection trip and four Shuttles to Headley's Crossing, coupled to 'Ivor', who pulled the train back to Shackerstone each time.

My pictures in 2008 of 'Ivor'.

My post on the 2007 'Ivor' events.

Ivor the Engine: 2008

Rob, Sam, Andy and Dai Station chatting before the shuttle departs.

Following a succesful visit to the Battlefield Line in July and August 2007 (See post), 'Ivor the Engine' returned to Shackerstone in August 2008.

Out of the two famous engines, 'Ivor' and 'Thomas', it must be admitted that 'Thomas' is the better-known locomotive. Thomas's originator, the Reverend Awdry, sold the rights to Britt Allcroft, who developed the 'Thomas' television programmes and a range of tie-in products. Having created a successful international 'brand', the rights were disposed of to Hit International, which zealously guards its investment. Licenses issued to preserved railways to operate Thomas Events involve significant costs to the railway and require compliance with arduous and detailed conditions. I can't help wondering what the Reverend Awdry would make of the commercial empire his stories have spawned. In contrast, 'Ivor the Engine' remains a rather more innocent creation. Peter Firmin and Oliver Postgate produced a series of relatively unsophisticated but charming animated stories for television which still have appeal.

The idea of creating a real, working steam locomotive with the rather improbable outline of the original animated 'Ivor' is delightful. Steve, the owner of the working 'Ivor', has succeeded admirably in implementing the idea. So, purist that I am in most matters of railway restoration, I was nevertheless happy to have an opportunity to drive 'Ivor' again.

On Sunday, 17th August Sam and I prepared the locomotive and trundled down to the station nice and early. This left the inspection pit free for 'Sir Gomer' to use. 'Sir Gomer' was to operate the 5-coach service train during the day. Willing as 'Ivor' is, handling the service train is a little beyond his capabilities. But 'Ivor' was allowed to operate a one-coach diesel shuttle during the day.

Normally, 'Ivor' would have been coupled to the 2-car Diesel Multiple Unit, but there was a problem with the brake cylinders on the one coach. So, when Rob the DMU driver arrived, 'Ivor' helped out with shunting the defective coach to the siding for repair. Then 'Ivor' was coupled to the good DMU coach and stood in platform 1 to await passengers. Each time 'Sir Gomer' arrived in platform 2 with the train from Shenton, Rob took the train to Hedley's Crossing, about a mile out of Shackerstone, with 'Ivor' being pulled backwards. Then it was the turn of 'Ivor' to do some work and pull the coach back to Shackerstone. Meanwhile, 'Sir Gomer' had run round the train and was ready to set off for Shenton.

On our last trip of the day, 'Dai Station' accompanied us on the footplate of 'Ivor' and you can watch his splendid video by clicking below.

To see more still pictures of Ivor's visit, Click Here.