Sunday afternoon in Thimphu

Sunday 6th September 2009

I've already described the morning jaunt when I was a little unwell. Recovered in the afternoon, we set off again for Thimphu town, this time to look at the huge Trashi Chhoe Dzong.

In Bhutan, the religious and the secular are combined in the Dzong which is both monastery and the seat of civil power combined. The Dzong in Thimphu is special in that the present King has his offices in this complex so there is a very active security presence. Because it was Sunday, the entrance to the civil offices was closed but, further along the massive building, a second entrance gave access to the monastery section. Security was still high and at least one of the guards, a uniformed young girl, carried a gun. There was also an X-ray machine to make a cursory check of my handbag. Passing through the outer wall, we entered the courtyard originally used for all important ceremonies. With the increasing significance of tourism, they have built a more spacious location for these ceremonies just outside the Dzong to give more accommodation for visitors. All of the walls of the Dzong provide accommodation either for offices or monks quarters but the courtyard is dominated by two massive buildings - the main temple and the monk's building. We were able to look around the main temple. There were a few other European tourists visiting the Dzong, in twos and threes. The fourth king, who has four wives, abdicated a few years ago in favour of his son and he has a palace on the river side of the Dzong. Pictures of Trashi Choe Dzong.

We then went by car to the middle of the town and parked. The Government have recently appointed a private parking contractor to collect parking fees on their behalf and a yellow-jacketed attendant was soon collecting the fee. I looked at a very nice antiques shop but emerged only with a map of Bhutan. Sunday is a holiday and there was quite a festive spirit with young people promenading. Western dress is probably more common on a Sunday, usually tee-shirt and jeans (I liked the plaintive 'This is not the life I ordered' tee-shirt). Weekdays, school children and people with a 'proper job' wear the appropriate national dress. One area of town was particularly crowded. My guide pointed out that most of the people in this area were temporary workers from India, working on various infrastructure projects, and waiting for the cinema to open. In Clocktower Square, I was amused to find young people playing cricket Bhutan-style. There were no stumps, the wicket was rather long and a tennis ball was in use. Nonetheless, they seemed to be enjoying themselves. My pictures of Thimphu.

After a tiring but enjoyable day, I was taken back to the comfort of the Amankora Lodge.

In and around Thimphu

Sunday 6th September 2009

We took the car out of Thimphu to visit a famous monastery, Cheri Goemba. On the way, we stopped at a vertical rock face where an image of a historical figure had been seen in the rock. This image has now been made visible by painting the rock. Below the image, a water prayer wheel had been built. I was intrigued by this concept. A small, locked stone building contains a single, large vertically-mounted prayer wheel. The axle of the prayer wheel extends downwards and is terminated on a horizontal paddle wheel. A water supply from a mountain stream is then channelled through a rectangular pipe so as to strike the paddles and rotate the prayer wheel above (in a clockwise direction, of course). Pictures on the road to Cheri Goemba.

A little further on, a huge tree-clad 'sugar loaf' hill reared up ahead of us. Dotted around the top of this hill could be seen a number of white-painted buildings. This was the monastery we'd come to see. We parked near another traditional cantilever bridge which gave access to the steep track up the hill to the monastery. I was surprised that I seemed to be tiring rapidly but then realised that I had an upset tummy and persevered. After an age, we passed a number of small pack-horses going down for another load. All supplies have to be carried up by man or beast. Soon after, we came to a chorten with a number of seats for pilgrims to rest and I was glad to pause for a while. We started again and I was relieved to find that we were almost at our destination as the huge bulk of the main building loomed above us.

The ancient largely-wooden building was a mixture of the prosaic and the sublime. In the entrance lodge were a supply of cypress branches which are used as an incense and a huge number of fire extinguishers. Fire is a perpetual hazard in these wooden buildings. We passed through a courtyard with a long row of small prayer wheels on one side and a series of small cells for practising meditation on the other side. Once novices have achieved some success in these cells, they are allowed to use the more remote buildings spread across the hillside.

Apparently, a special ritual was being performed that day and a number of the local people had come to participate. Outside the main building there was a remarkable collection of footwear and, adding my own shoes, I passed inside. Two rows of monks sat facing one another chanting the ritual, rather after the style of choir stalls in an English church. Behind the monks on each side were rows of the local people, praying or telling their rosaries. Tashi and I were able to walk around and study the main altar and the decorations as the service proceeded.

Tashi and I made our descent this time passing a team of loaded packhorses going up at the chorten. By the time we reached the bridge and our car, there were another crowd of locals just starting out on the climb. We drove back to Thimphu Lodge for lunch but I skipped lunch and slept until our afternoon tour, which I'll describe next time.

Pictures of the Monastery.

Land of Dreams

Amended 7-Sep-2009.

Bhutan is called the 'Land of the Thunder Dragon', because thunder was supposed to be made by a dragon in the sky. After being here a few hours, I'm inclined to call it 'Land of Dreams' because it's such an improbable place - the sort of place you might imagine in a dream.

The welcome at the Amankora Lodge was very warm, the facilities in my large room excellent and I instantly felt at home as part of the 'Amankora Family'. After a wash and change, I set off with my guide and driver to explore the district.

By this time, the weather was rather cold and raining. We went first to the National Memorial Chorten, which is a regular place of worship for large numbers of Bhutan people. I was particularly impressed by the building with a number of large prayer wheels. People were walking from wheel to wheel (always in a clockwise direction) spinning each wheel in turn. A number of elderly people were sitting by one chosen wheel, spinning it intermittently, praying with their 'rosary' of 108 beads, talking to other people or eating and drinking. My guide explained that there are a number of 'regulars' who will bring a packed lunch and spend all day here.

Then we drove a short distance to a weaving factory. Here a number of women and men were working at hand looms producing the colourful and sometimes complex patterns of the materials used both for everyday and special occasions. Upstairs, the owner of the factory was himself weaving a new pattern he had developed before putting it into production.

Next, we went to a paper making factory. The plant material used for the process only grows at particular altitudes and doesn't look very promising to start with. A number of women in an open shed were twisting thin strips of the materials into 'strings' about 3 feet long, prior to the material being boiled for 12 hours and soaked in wooden water tanks for a further six hours. Inside the workshop an electrically-powered machine is used to convert the material into paper pulp, looking a bit like cold porridge. This pulp is put in a sink with some sort of binder or glue and a skilled lady was dipping the paper-making frame into the sink to collect a little of the pulp which she spread across the frame. This process was repeated a number of times until she was happy with the result and then, with a series of deft movements, the new paper on its 'screen' was lifted out, transferred to the pile of sheets already produced and the screen put back in the frame to repeat the process for the next sheet. Every minute or so, a new sheet is produced. Nearby, there's a press used to squeeze excess water from a large pile of these sheets. A man was then transferring these sheets to a drying frame, heated so as to drive out the final moisture. A few strokes with a handbrush would produce the surface finish he wanted. I was very impressed with the sheer productivity of this small factory.

Next, we called at an Artist's Workshop where copies of the very intricate temple-style plaintings are produced. These are popular with foreigners for decorating houses. We'd seen the weaving of cloth for the female national garment, the 'Kira' but at the Artist's Workshop we saw antique 'Kira' for sale. These are also popular with foreigners as wall hangings.

We then drove back to the town (it's hard to call Thimphu a city) and parked near the Farmer's Centenary Market. I wanted to study the modern pedestrian footbridge over the river. Although modern, it's built in the traditional cantilever design with a massive stone entrance lodge on each bank. Of course, the bridge itself is covered with strings of coloured prayer flags. Then I walked round the Centenary Market, built to celebrate one hundred years of the monarchy in Bhutan a few years ago. It's a bit like a council market in England - properly built stalls in durable materials with a good roof and excellent electric lighting - but, like the British version, seems to lose some of the excitement of a disorganised, scruffy market.

Our last visit of the day was one of the most moving. We called at the Nunnery where about thirty shaven-headed women and girls commit themselves to a religious life. In the ante-chamber to the main temple, the nuns were reading and chanting to the accompaniment of drum, cymbals and two of the long, straight temple horns. With bare feet we entered the temple and prostrated ourselves three times to the main altar. This involves palms together first above the head, then to the throat and finally to the heart before getting on all fours and touching the floor with the forehead. I explained that I was happy to do this out of respect, but not out of belief. Oddly enough, I've not experienced the expected joint pains from this "bowing and scraping". With the chanting and haunting music in the background, it was quite an electrifying experience.

Pictures around Thimphu.

Finally, we drove the short distance back to the Thimphu Lodge. A nice touch in my bedroom was a present of a locally produced book - 'Dawa' - the story of a stray dog in Bhutan. Dinner, and then to bed to prepare for more adventures the next day.

Into Bhutan

The flight from Kolkata to Paro is only around an hour. I was pleased that as we descended, I could see something of the dramatic approach to Paro with fairly substantial mountains rising above the aircraft with the tree-fringed skylines in silhouette. My snatched pictures don’t do justice to the majesty of the scene.

I was met by my guide for eight days, Tashi, and our driver, Karma. We were soon on the road for our drive to Thimphu, the capital of Bhutan. The population of Thimphu is only around 100,000 - the population of the whole country is only about 700,000 - so it's more like a small town than a capital. I think it might be my kind of place! The internet certainly works well.

It was warm enough for a tee shirt when I arrived this morning but the rain started about lunch time and the temperature has dropped so it's far more like the weather I'm used to in the U.K. at present. I'm in a very attractive suite at the Amankora Lodge (and I don't always like 'Minimalist' design, but this is nicely done with lots of real wood and no MDF or plastic in sight). The lodge is a few minutes drive from Thimphu, set in an idyllic spot on a hillside with a stream running through it and adjacent to a pine forest. I'll set about giving you more details later. but, in the meantime, an update on my last blog post from Kolkata.

By dint of not getting a lot of sleep, I uploaded a fair number of pictures using the facilities at the Oberoi Grand, although most of them are untitled at present. You may spot various errors which I'll correct as soon as I can.

There are now pictures of two schools I visited in Myanmar at "Educational Support in Myanmar". I've still to add my pictures of the Doe Pin Orphanage.

Finally, I've added pictures of Kolkata Rail Museum here and more railway pictures will be added when I can.

Arrival at the small airport at Paro was painless and my visa was issued on arrival, as promised. No photographs were required. A charming customs officer added my laptop and camera to my customs declaration to avoid any problems on departure and I was soon in the public area. Nobody seemed to be displaying my name but after a few seconds a young Bhutan man in national dress (as were most of the men) introduced himself as Tashi, my guide, and he took my luggage outside to a waiting Hyundai 4x4 with a driver, Karma, also in national dress. Unusually, I was invited to sit in the front for our journey to Thimphu.

After 24 km, we stopped at a confluence of two rivers, Paro Chu and Thimphu Chu, at Chhuzom where there is an Immigration control post. Chortens (the Bhutan word for what are sometimes also called 'stupas') in three different styles have been erected here to make the site more auspicious. The location is also an important road junction because the road from the border town of Phuntsboling Gewog and India joins here. Some types of rice and high-value goods are imported and vegetables and fruit are exported. Relations with India are good and the 'DANTAK' organisation is reponsible for a number of road and other projects in Bhutan. We carried on along quite a good road, with signs of the repairs and improvements in hand through a countryside strangely reminiscent of Switzerland, with the black and white houses with low-pitched, overhanging roofs. Oddly, I discovered later that Switzerland has been quite active in support and charity work in Bhutan.

A short distance outside Thimphu, the road suddenly became dual carriageway with street lights. We passed through what appeared to tbe a bustling town rather than a capital city. At one junction, we passed a traffic policeman. A few years ago, Thimphu lost its claim to be the only capital without traffic lights when a set was installed. I gather there was something of an uproar at how impersonal it had become and so the traffic policeman was restored. The city nestles in a valley so we were soon climbing hard out of Thimphu, which is starting to sprawl with a lot of new housing been built. After a few minures we turned off the road onto a metalled approach road to the white-painted, Bhutan-style Amankora Lodge.

As possible, I'll post pictures and add to this description.

Pictures between Paro and Thimphu.

Kolkata

Revised Sunday 6th September.

Friday, 4th September 2009

I've spent the afternoon on a city tour with a guide. Amongst other things, we visited the famous Howrah railway station (bet you're surprised) and the small Railway Museum (I'm surprised - I didn't know they had one in Kolkata).

I’d not realised the legacy of rather grand buildings left by the British in Kolkata. Originally, Kolkata was the centre of British operations in India and it was only later that Delhi achieved its current importance. Some of these buildings, like the High Court, have been maintained in good order but many are visibly crumbling and rather sad, although still in use for one purpose or another in the makeshift way that the Indians adopt. Pictures of Kolkata.

In Kolkata, I'm at the Oberoi Grand - a classic hotel which I'm enjoying (albeit briefly). Although there's Wi-Fi in the hotel, I'm using the plug-in connection in my room which is uploading pictures very satisfactorily.

I have to leave the hotel at 4.30 a.m. to get the flight to Bhutan's single airport at Paro.

Bhutan was a closed kingdom for centuries but the new King has sought to modernise the country without destroying the good features. I know they have Internet - I don't yet know whether I'll be able to access it or not. So don't be surprised if I go quiet again.

Saturday, 5th September 2009

Getting up at 3.30 a.m. to be ready for pick-up at 4.30 a.m. is not my idea of fun but I’d slept well (if briefly) and whilst I slept the computer had uploaded my Kolkata photographs. In case my travel alarm didn’t rouse me, I’d booked a wake-up call which was on time and this was followed by morning tea delivered with a smile. I was picked up on time so, once we’d stowed the luggage in the rear of the 6-seater, we were on our way through the dark, wet streets. Yesterday lunchtime, the route had been crowded with traffic, made worse by the movement of people for the Holiday, but we made the airport in around half an hour.

I’m amazed at how tiny the international terminal is, considering it serves a city of some 15 million people. I’m told the domestic terminal is larger (I’ll let you know when I transit to Mumbai on the way home). My guide and I sit in the waiting area until check-in for my flight starts (late), then we say goodbye and I go into the passenger only area. First, there’s X-ray for luggage to be checked in. Each bag checked is strapped with a polypropylene tape to prevent tampering. At this point, an old porter with bad teeth and rather fractured English adopts me and conducts me to check-in where I am issued with a ‘Royal Executive Class’ boarding pass for my Drukair flight KB121 to Paro although the check-in lady says it’s ‘Free Seating’. My porter applies ‘Executive Class’ labels to my carry-on baggage, hands me the Indian departure card, sits me down with his pen and invites me to complete the card. Having obtained what I hope was a suitable gratuity, he then took me to the queue for passport control and scurried away looking for further business.

I noticed a ‘fast-track’ of elderly females in wheelchairs with their husbands who thereby managed to circumvent the tedium of queueing. I’m suspicious of their disabilities but it seems typical of a country where the class system is alive and well. There were a number of immigration officers on duty, so the wait was only short and customs waved me directly to the escalator to the departure lounge. I was a bit puzzled by a refreshment voucher I’d been given at check-in with the explanation “On your left when you are through immigration”. In the departure lounge, there was a tiny snack bar, so I presented my voucher to be told “Inside, inside” and directed to a small partitioned-off area communicating with the snack bar. Apparently, this was the Thai Airways business lounge and I was to use it. Sandwiches, cake and drinks were available and I was the only customer. At seven o'clock, I and my hand baggage went through a thorough but friendly security check. I was amused to see the operator shuttle my computer and camera bag through the scanner a number of times. I volunteered that we should do a hand search if he was dubious but he seemed happy to just view on screen. During the short wait I was intrigued to watch two stewardesses arrive followed by a captain and second officer. They had a separate security track with separate body scanner and X-ray machine, with a separate group of security people. This is, I like to think, the compassionate side of State-operated India where one man is never used for a job if three can do it almost as well. The Station Manager for the airline came and went a number of times, making arrangements for boarding. I was intrigued that her hand-held radio went through the X-ray scanner each time. Another man was in charge of the doors giving access to the air bridges and the apron. These doors were unlocked to let the stewardesses through then immediately secured. The same process was followed for the pilot and co-pilot and finally for the passengers.

We were led down steps and out onto the apron where we walked across the tarmac in the rain to reach our waiting aircraft, an Airbus (A319, I think). Two sets of steps were in position and my boarding pass got me to the front steps for separate access to the Business Class cabin. This was already fairly full – I realised the flight had originated in Bangkok and I was boarding at its intermediate stop. We were away a few minutes late and climbed above the clouds when they served a simple but quite acceptable cold breakfast.

Bangkok Briefly

So far, the plans are still working. I flew from Yangon to Bangkok last night, was transferred to the Mandarin Oriental for a very short stay because I was picked up again at 6.15 a.m. this morning for transfer back to the new airport.

Check-in and passport control was fairly painless so then I headed for the business class lounge. Although I'm flying Jet Airways to Calcutta, sorry, Kolkata, my carrier has an arrangement to use the Thai Airways faciities. I think Thai have three business class lounges here (plus a First Class). I chose the one in the middle as (hopefully) being nearest my departure gate. The lounge is long and fairly thin, to fit in the 'interconnected tubes' layout of the terminal. In fact, I think it's the longest lounge I've been in. It's the size of the airport I don't like. You're faced with huge walks to get from place to place and no opportunity is lost to present you with 'retail opportunities' in designer goods at inflated prices.

Uploading pictures is sometimes a bit problematic, I'm afraid. I've taken over 1,000 pictures so far but only just started to upload them. However, you can see pictures of some of the places I've visited on this trip by looking at my photographs of previous trips.

A few days ago, I visited a monastic school near Sagaing in Myanmar where 'Road to Mandalay' passengers have made donations for various purposes. I've uploaded my pictures of this visit - they are here.

Ferry to Dalla

The former capital of Myanmar, Yangon (called 'Rangoon' by the British) is a fascinating, cosmopolitan place. But I'd not been across the Yangon River to see what's there. I'd seen the ferries crossing from the other side. I'd seen the passengers teeming off the ferry and making their way into the city. Now, armed with a Government Permit, I hoped to see for myself.

One feature of all the maps I'd seen of Yangon was the lack of any detail as to what lay of the other side of the river. Although separated from the City by a ferry crossing of only a few minutes, as far as the cartographers were concerned, it was a 'Terra Incognita'. I'd found out that the area was termed 'Dalla Township', mustering a population of one million! It appeared to be where a lot of Yangon's workers lived, commuting daily on the ferries.

I had a fairly leisurely breakfast at the Strand before walking to the Ferry Terminal, only a few hundred yards from the hotel. I first approached a ticket collector on the ramp leading to the landing stage but, seeing my Government Permit, he directed me to a ticket office at the far end of the adjacent Waiting Room. At the ticket window, I presented my Permit again but, with the shake of his head, he pointed further along. There was no other ticket window, just a door which opened as I approached. Some sort of supervisor (with reasonable English) studied my pass carefully and the laboriously wrote out two tickets (one to go, one to come back) in a triplicate book. Foreigners are charged a significant multiple of the local price (the situation was the same when I travelled on the Circle Line) but it's still good value compared with transport at home.

I waited patiently with the other passengers until the ferry docked and most of the arriving passengers had disembarked, then we were allowed down the ramp and onto the rather battered-looking ferry. By the time everybody was aboard, the ship was fairly full but not crush-loaded. We cast off and made our way across the channel. Looking upstream, I could see the transit sheds of the original port. The 'Rahman-Noor-Rahim', registered in Chittagong, was loading timber onto her aft deck, presumably having already filled the hold. Numerous small river-taxis buzzed in every direction and there were various cargo ships moored in mid-channel. We passed the other ferry on our route heading for the Yangon Landing Stage. Soon, we were tying up to the Dalla Landing Stage and there was quite a crowd waiting to board for the return journey. I made my way up the ramp and outside. There were shops, buses, taxis and cycle-rickshaws touting for business and people - lots of people. Everybody seemed in a hurry to get where they were going. I realised that, having got this far, I had no idea what to do next!

At first, I shook my head at the various forms of transport offered to me. Then, I realised I would see nothing without local help, so I negotiated with one of the cycle rickshaw drivers who had been persistent but not offensive. Yes, he would take me round Dalla for a few U.S. Dollars for 30 minutes. The rate was quite a multiple of what locals would pay, but it turned out to be a good decision. The driver spoke good English and made quite a competent tourist guide, so I spent over two hours touring the spread-out town. It's more like a series of interconnected villages with lots of greenery and a wide variety of building styles, all fairly modest. A long, straight well-surfaced road led away from the ferry terminal, but soon we turned off, crossing an elderly Bailey Bridge with a pronounced sag in the middle. We cycled parallel to a creek where a number of the brightly-painted and sleek-looking water taxis were being repaired on the muddy bank. A foreigner being cycled through a roadside market always attracts attention, but the people are invariably friendly and just curious. We stopped for photographs by a bridge over the creek near what appeared to be a water-taxi 'rank' - dozens of boats pulled up on the mud with people milling about. A number of locals, particularly children, collected round the cycle-rickshaw and were fascinated to see pictures of themselves. It's pleasant that they rarely beg for money or sweets.

As you can imagine, it can be quite hard work for the cycle-rickshaw driver but mine assured me he could keep going all day. Few of these drivers own the rickshaw - they rent them for around a dollar a day. It's a tough way of making a living, but they can sustain a family with this kind of work.

We stopped by a large Buddhist temple complex. Although it was raining, I decided to explore the various temples. It didn't appear to be that old, but it was clearly well-used. Because dilapidations are made good fairly promptly at well-endowed temples and structures are regularly re-painted, it's easy to be misled about the age of temples. I took a number of pictures before we returned to the cycle-rickshaw.

We passed the shipbuilding yard of Inland Water Transport - quite a large undertaking then another Bailey Bridge took us through another 'village'. In any community, you'll always find a teashop and they always seem quite well patronised - the Burmese love to sit and talk. More roadside stalls, young children playing in the stream, women working in the rice fields - an amazing contrast with central Yangon. A fisherman was standing in the stream, occasionally casting his large net. Two young women were doing the family wash in rainwater puddles at the side of the road, completely unembarrassed. We came to a junction with a rather stained concrete clocktower. An elaborate system of props had been added, presumably to delay its likely collapse.

My driver stopped and pointed to a series of derelict-looking sheds with lots of women milling about. "Market" he said, and suggested I have a look round. I'm always amazed at the range of goods available at these markets - fruit, vegetables, chicken, fish, hardware and fancy goods. In contrast, just a few feet from one row of stalls, there was a large waste dump including discarded food.

We cycled away from the market, passing a pool with a sign proudly displaying (in English and Burmese) "This pond was rehabilitated with support from the European Union". Next, we passed a Monastery with an impressive gilded entrance arch. Then we watched another fisherman casting his net in a stream. He pulled the net ashore and squatted to check the catch. This time, it was only one tiny, almost translucent fish.

We'd come back to the Yangon River and large, sea-going fishing boats were beached here. A little further and we reached another village with the usual tea-houses and local people happily passing time. There was a very old Hindu Temple here, apparently closed-up, situated in overgrown grounds serving as an adventure playground for a number of local children. The houses here were mainly of wood, so I assumed the nearby watchtower was a fire look-out. In contrast, St. Michaels Church was a well-built and well-maintained structure.

We passed a crudely-built roadside table for drying charcoal then many more houses and shops, many built on short piles and surrounded by water used for growing rice and similar crops. In most cases, an insecure-looking wooden walkway led across the water garden from the road to the building.

At a T-Junction, we found a number of cycle-rickshaws waiting for hire, with the drivers passing time in the inevitable Tea-House. The exchanges between my driver and the waiting drivers were, of course, in Burmese but I formed the impression that my driver was much-admired for having snared himself a high-paying foreigner. There are many small lorries fitted with tilt covers used as minibuses in Burma, but I'd never seen one before carrying a coffin! I probably wouldn't have realised the vehicle was doing duty as a hearse, had my driver not drawn it to my attention.

Shortly, we stopped outside another Hindu Temple, but this one gaily painted on the outside. My driver hailed the caretaker who didn't look too pleased at the prospect of opening up for a tourist, but a small donation to the temple changed his attitude completely and after I'd walked round the temple, he fetched the Holy Water from the Inner Temple so that he could administer the Blessing. In sign language, he showed me how to receive the Blessing and we parted good friends.

Next door, there was a large Mosque - the Rahmath Mosque, highly decorated outside and very striking in white and pale blue. My cycle-rickshaw journey which had revealed so many contrasts in Dalla was now almost over. We rejoined the main road and soon arrived back at the bustle of the Ferry Terminal. I happily paid off my driver/guide and presented my return ferry ticket for inspection before going onto the landing stage to watch the approaching ferry berth. The short ferry crossing safely returned me to Yangon City and a few minutes walk took me back to the comfort of the Strand Hotel.

Pictures of the Yangon River Ferry.
Pictures around Dalla.
Pictures of Dalla Temple.

Back to Yangon

It was time to leave 'Road to Mandalay'. Our luggage had been collected early and this would magically re-appear when we got to Yangon. After the usual hearty breakfast, we said goodbye to the crew and went ashore for the last time. Our usual buses transported us to Mandalay Airport where we were rapidly checked in, said goodbye to our guides, and passed into the departure lounge to await our Yangon flight. I'd made a number of friends on the 'Road to Mandalay' with whom I flew back to Yangon. There we split up - the others were either taking a connecting flight that day or staying at the other top hotel in Yangon, the Governor's Residence. So I was taken to the Strand, to receive the usual warm welcome.

The Strand is very near the Yangon River which has a busy ferry service connecting Yangon itself to the other side. I'd intended to try this out on my first visit to Yangon, but didn't have enough time. There wasn't the opportunity to make this trip on my second visit to Burma either. So, this time, I determined to make the trip. Enquiring at the hotel, I discovered that circumstances have changed. Foreigners now need government permission to use the ferry (presumably because it provides a possible route into the Delta area devastated by Cyclone Nargis). Apparently, you had to present yourself in person with your passport at the Ministry of Tourism office to make an application. The office had apparently recently moved from the location shown on the City Map but, armed with some directions from the Strand staff, I set out on foot. After a little confusion, I located the Ministry of Tourism office.

Two ladies were serving at a long counter and they spoke quite good English. I was presented with a form letter and a blank sheet of paper. Apparently, I was to copy out the form letter in my own hand, substituting my own details. I had to promise to go only to the two nearest towns on the other side of the river, return the same day and undertake not to engage in political activity of any kind. I found the restrictions acceptable, so I duly copied out the letter. One of the ladies checked my letter and passport and, satisfied, filled out a pass and rubber stamped it.
"I need two copies of this pass" she said.
"How much will that be?" I enquired.
"No, you go and get copies" she explained, and waved vaguely over the other side of the road, from which I understood that getting the copies was up to me. I crossed the road, but all I could see was food stalls. I walked in the direction she seemed to indicate and, after a minute or two, came across a small 'Copy Shop'. Armed with three copies, I returned to the ministry office. The lady took her file copies and I was left with the original and a copy, all set to make the trip the following morning.

I decided to explore a little more of Yangon on foot, purchasing a book and (another) map in an excellent bookshop with a reasonable English section. It took three friendly girl assistants to serve me and, although they all had some English, there was a lot of mutual incomprehension before the transaction was done. I toured the outside of the Sule Pagoda - a remarkable ancient temple, ringed with modern shops and forming an important traffic island in the middle of the city.

By this time, it was late afternoon and the evening rush hour appeared to be in progress. I decided to continue walking to the Governor's Residence, following a battered tourist map. My route took me fairly near the Circle Line railway, so I deliberately detoured to look at each station I passed, ending up at Pyay Road Station. All the trains I saw were crowded and most of the diesel locomotives sported a group of people riding on the front buffer beam, as the picture below illustrates.

Approaching the Governor's Residence, we were in an area with a number of Embassies or Missions. By far the largest was the Chinese Embassy, which reminded me of a high-security prison.

The Governor's Residence Hotel is a large, teak-built affair in carefully-tended gardens. I spent some time there talking to a number of my new friends, before deciding that I really needed to get a taxi back to the Strand to get some rest.

More pictures of the circle line.

Visit to an Orphanage, Myanmar

On the 1st September 2009, I was part of a small group of passengers from the 'Road to Mandalay' who made a day trip to Maymyo. On the way, we made a visit to a large Orphanage partly supported by donations from 'Road to Mandalay' passengers.

This Orphanage now cares for over 500 children. The Monk who founded and now runs the Orphanage received us in the large Assembly Hall where we enjoyed tea and biscuits sitting on the floor. With our guide Mr. Win translating, I asked the Monk how he coped with the stress of taking responsibility for all the needs of so many children. "Meditation" came the simple reply.

Since its founding, the Orphanage has grown significantly to cater for the heavy demand and we saw more new buildings under construction. A lot of the development appeared to be based on the simple faith that, if the need is there, the resources will appear to fund the project. This Orphanage has certainly been successful in attracting support from a wide range of donors, including significant help from donors in Japan.

The Monk took us on a conducted tour, first visiting a kitchen, where two rice boilers were producing the next meal. Next, we looked at the vegetable gardens; where possible, the Orphanage grows its own food. Then we entered one of the large schoolrooms where we were mobbed by excited young children. Whilst we were there, a tropical rainstorm lashed the corrugated iron roof and we extended our visit a little until the rain abated. Then we rejoined our bus to continue our trip to Maymyo, watched by hundreds of waving children.

More pictures.

Day trip to Maymyo

The extensive market at Maymyo

With our arrival at Shwe Kyet Yet on the previous day, our cruise had come to its close. But our adventures were not yet quite ended. The main feature of Tuesday was a trip by road to visit the hill town of Maymyo.

Before leaving for Maymyo, a walking tour had been arranged through the village of Shwe Kyet Yet to observe the offering of Alms to the Monks at the local monastery. This is a ceremony I have seen before but the simple dignity never fails to impress me, so I joined the walking tour to watch once again.

At seven o'clock, a long line of monks emerged from the monastery to make a circuit of the village accepting offerings of food from the villagers. The 'Road to Mandalay' had set up a table with generous amounts of food just outside the monastery. As usual, the Captain and members of the crew were on hand to distribute food to the monks to supplement the other offerings made by the villagers.

Although it had been dry for the Alms giving, we had not travelled far in our usual bus towards Maymyo before we were driving through heavy rain which stayed with us for most of the morning.

On our way to Maymyo, we made a slight detour to visit an Orphanage partly supported by the 'Road to Mandalay'. The visit is described in a separate post.

We pulled up opposite a small temple whilst the driver's assistant braved the rain to cross the road and perform the appropriate ritual to ensure a safe journey. He returned in a minute or two with a small bunch of special flowers which were hung up in the front window of the bus. Meanwhile, Mr. Win had purchased a bunch of small, fragrant flowers from a (rather damp) roadside vendor which he divided between the ladies in the party. Thus prepared, we continued our journey. Maymyo is reached after quite a steep climb into the mountains on a heavily-used road with some fairly hairy sections. To improve matters, a large part of the route has had a second carriageway added, sometimes close to the original road, sometimes striking off to find its own route, often at a different level.

This is a privately-owned road and the Chinese businessman who funded these road improvements has tolls collected at various toll stations. At one modern-looking toll station, I was intrigued that a couple of Burmese were stationed in the rain, actually collecting the money and issuing receipts. They were just outside a purpose-built toll office occupied by a Chinese who was able to keep nice and dry to whom each toll was passed for safe keeping. By employing trusted Chinese in this way, the owner seeks to avoid any 'skimming' of the toll income.

By the time we arrived in Maymyo, the weather was noticeably cooler, although the rain had stopped for a while. We disembarked from the bus outside the large Market and spent some time exploring the variety of stalls in both the inside and outside markets. There is a significant Muslim population in Maymyo and this was apparent in walking around the market. In the vegetable market, I was greeted by one of the stallholders in perfect English. He explained that, although born into a Muslim family, he had learned English in the Catholic School he attended as a child. Having completed his education, he reverted to Islam.

Outside the Market, two covered horse-drawn carriages were waiting to take us on a 'city tour'. As it immediately started to rain heavily again, it was fortunate that the carriages were covered. Moving out of the centre of the town, we passed the British Colonial style dwellings - substantial buildings with chimneys set in extensive grounds. It was rather reminiscent of Simla in India. We stopped outside the Chinese Temple and were invited to make a visit but the rain was so torrential that we all agreed to carry on to the hotel where we were to have lunch. On arrival, the rain had all but stopped so there was time to make friends with the horse. I was fascinated with one feature of the carriage - a large piece of sacking had been fixed loosely between the shafts immediately behind the horse so as to collect the horse manure!

The hotel was a nicely-restored British villa with a series of modern chalets in the gardens to increase accommodation. It was a very peaceful location, close to the Botanical Gardens and both the food and service were excellent.

After lunch, we were driven the short distance to the entrance of the National Botanical Gardens. The site is kept in excellent condition with lots of interesting exhibits so, far from being bored, I would happily have spent longer there. There was intermittent rain but not enough to spoil the tour. Amongst many attractions, there is a large 'walk-through aviary', a Bamboo Garden, an 'Orchard' of edible plants and a wooden walkway through a swamp environment. I would have liked to ascend the modern 'Watchtower' but time did not permit this. However, I did see my first Takin - a sort of goat/antelope found in Myanmar, Bhutan and neighbouring parts of India and China. All-in-all, the visit to the Botanical Gardens was very worthwhile.

Back in the bus, we'd agreed to visit the railway station before leaving Maymyo. We entered the town just as schools were finishing so, for a time, the roads were filled with young people, mainly walking but with a few lucky ones being picked up on mopeds. The single-storey station building clearly showed its British origins. There were lots of people milling about although there was no sign of a passenger train. As we were getting ready to leave,a goods train arrived and started to shunt. By this time, it was raining hard again. Pictures of the station are in the set More Railways in Burma.

On the way back to the ship, we stopped to explore an extensive roadside market where Mr. Win purchased vegetables for his wife. We stopped again as the road started to descend to the plains and the rain held off whilst we took in the impressive views. Tired but happy we returned to the ship for our farewell dinner and the last night aboard.

Pictures of Maymyo and the journey.
Pictures of the Botanical Gardens.

Sailing back to Mandalay

Sunday, 30th August

'Road to Mandalay' cast off from its midstream mooring at Bagan around 10:00 a.m. to sail upstream back to Mandalay. Some of the passengers from the downstream journey had left the ship, new passengers had joined and some, like the writer, were making the round trip.

Buffet lunch was served on the top deck, afternoon tea in the Piano Bar and, as it became dark, the ship dropped anchor midstream for the night. After cocktails on the top deck, dinner was served in the restaurant. After dinner, we hurried to the top deck for the 'Surprise on the River'. Hundreds of tiny rafts each carrying a lighted candle appeared upstream and, carried by the current, swarmed past the ship on both sides to disappear downstream. The effect was quite delightful and moving. The Piano Bar remained open late for after dinner drinks. Such are the rigours of shipboard life.

Monday, 31st August

Sunrise was at 5:52 a.m. and the ship had set sail before 6:30 a.m. After breakfast, a leisurely morning was spent watching the ever-changing scene along the river. Once again, lunch was served on the top deck.

The sense of anticipation grew as we approached Mandalay and, with the kind permission of the Captain, I was on the ship's bridge as the British-built road and rail bridge appeared ahead. There's not much clearance for the 'Road to Mandalay' under this bridge and the ship's short mast was lowered into a horizontal position beforehand.

We then passed under the new recently-completed road bridge and made our final approach to the 'Road to Mandalay' private dock. The Voith-Sneider propulsion system allowed the Captain to bring the ship sideways very slowly to the dock then shore parties struggled with the heavy mooring ropes to finally secure the ship.

Very soon, passengers were making their way to the coaches for a road trip to Sagaing. The television crew was on hand to record the event. On this occasion, I didn't take the coach trip because Doctor Hla Tun had invited me to accompany him on a visit to one of the Monastic Schools supported by passengers from the 'Road to Mandalay'.

Everybody was back on board in plenty of time for dinner and there was after dinner entertainment showing various Tribal Costumes of Myanmar.

Pictures

Cruising the Ayerwaddy.
Arriving at Shwe Kyet Yet.
Monastic School No. 21.

The Second Occasional Meeting of the Bagan Cycling Club

On Sunday, I took breakfast reasonably early because I was going ashore for a while before the ship cast off at 10:00 a.m. to cruise back upstream to Mandalay. I can do no better than quote the Minutes of the Bagan Cycling Club:-

"The Second Occasional Meeting of the Bagan Cycling Club took place on Sunday, 30th August 2009. The Founder Members from the Inaugural Meeting (our two young Burmese cycling enthusiasts and Honorary Secretary Jan Ford) were present and were delighted to welcome a New Member - Mister Bruno. The objective was to cycle across part of the Bagan Plain using minor roads and stopping to examine some of the smaller temples. Splendid machines had been provided and an excellent Tour was undertaken, cut short only by the need to return to the 'Road to Mandalay' before Sailing Time. All the participants agreed that they had enjoyed the event and looked forward to the next Meeting. Jan Ford, Honorary Secretary."

Pictures of the event are here. Safely back on board the 'Road to Mandalay', the rest of the day was largely 'at leisure' as we retraced our route northwards.

Ti Pu Village

After we'd visited Mount Popa and enjoyed an excellent lunch, it was agreed that we'd visit Ti Pu, one of the villages where 'Road to Mandalay' guests have assisted with funding for school buildings. It had rained earlier in the day and there was concern over whether our bus could make the two-mile trip over an unsurfaced track to reach the village. I expressed confidence that, if necessary, we'd walk from the main road. When we came to the featureless turning to Ti Pu, the bus parked and waited with those guests who were happy to stay on the bus whilst the rest of us set off on foot. In contrast with Mount Popa, it was quite warm and dry so spirits were quite high.

Meanwhile, the Doctor had been making plans on his mobile phone and he announced that the head man at the village was sending transport for us. We carried on walking until a high-pitched buzz announced the approach of a moped from the village, with a monk on the pillion seat. We wondered quite how we'd fit on the moped but, apparently, this was just the advance party to assure us that a larger vehicle was on its way. After a few minutes a large and ancient lorry appeared. Two of us squeezed into the cab and the others scrambled up into the rear. We appreciated the lift but it has to be said that the engine was very noisy and the comfort minimal.

When we arrived at the village, quite a crowd had assembled to greet us. The monastery complex was perhaps the largest building, followed by a government-provided building with a number of classrooms for the primary school. But, to deal with pupils beyond Grade 5, two more buildings (each with two classrooms) had been provided by the 'Road to Mandalay' charity, through the generosity of guests on the ship. About the same sum of money was expended on each of the buildings, but inflation meant that the later building, although serviceable and welcome, lacked some of the refinements of the earlier building.

The earlier 'Road to Mandalay' building at Ti Pu.

The more recent 'Road to Mandalay' building at Ti Pu.

The monk introduced the headmaster and one of the teachers. Doctor Hla Tun translated as the monk and teaching staff had very little English but their eagerness to give the local children the best possible educational opportunities was clear.

The Headmaster of Ti Pu Schools

The Head Monk and one of the Teachers at Ti Pu

In rural areas like this, it's quite common for children to walk for two hours in the morning to reach school and face a similar journey home after school. Classes in the higher Grades may not be available at all, hence the importance of providing assistance to extend existing schools. 'Road to Mandalay' always operate through local monks who are both respected and can motivate local people. Donated money goes quite a long way as, when there's building work to be done, the whole village comes together to help. Government funds for teachers' salary and teaching materials can be erratic and so, when the need arises, the 'Road to Mandalay' charity will try to help.

We spent a little more time with the children and some of the villagers before clambering back onto the lorry for the uncomfortable ride back to our bus, patiently waiting for us on the tarmac road. When you make a visit like this, it's impossible not to be moved by the dignity of these people and natural to want to help in some small way. More pictures of Ti Pu.

Mount Popa, Myanmar

On this trip too much was happening and, at this point, I failed to keep the postings up-to-date so I didn't write the following report until I was safely back home.

Saturday 29th August 2009

It’s a fairly intensive schedule because on Saturday we were offered a whole day trip to Mount Popa by road. Of course, if they prefer, people could stay on the ship and sunbathe, swim, take a spa treatment, use the gym or just sit and read in the Observation Lounge. All the trips were so well organised that I was reluctant to miss any of them. Each trip showed a different aspect of this fascinating country.

The view of Taung Kalat from the Mount Popa Resort

So, around 9.00 a.m. we set off in the usual tour bus with the usual driver, driver's assistant and Mr. Win as our guide. A second bus travelled independently. Before we even joined the main road, our bus managed to 'snag' an overhead cable and bring it down. We stopped and, looking out of the back window of the bus, I could see a couple of cables caught on a spotlight mounted on the roof of the bus. A long bamboo pole appeared from somewhere and the cables were quickly disentangled. I couldn't follow what happened next but, within minutes, we continued on our journey. I was left wondering if the cables were live and who would re-instate them but I'm afraid I never found out.

Our journey took us over a reasonable road through flat, dry farmland with the occasional village or small town. Many of the houses we passed were just bamboo but I was puzzled that a number of them featured rectangular brick-built chimneys. When we stopped, the explanation became clear. We stopped at a 'Toddy Palm Plantation' where the sap of this particular palm provides the raw material for distilling a potent rum-type drink which Mr. Win referred to as 'daiquiri'. Although I knew the term 'Toddy', I'd no idea that this industry existed not only in Myanmar but in a number of countries. There's a Wikipedia Article on the topic.

We'd stopped near a collection of the Toddy Palms with a large open-sided bamboo 'shed' forming the production area. A one-bullock 'mill' was set up nearby. This is an overgrown pestle and mortar made from wood where the grinding power comes from a bullock which is harnessed to walk in a circle under the control of the miller who rides on a horizontal board. We were given the opportunity to have our photograph taken on this contraption and have a ride on the horizontal board. The bullock seemed perfectly content to perform for these strange visitors.

The productive trees had bamboo ladders tied to them so that the young lads who harvest them could quickly climb the palm, make thin slices using a sharp knife and collect the sap in a number of pots suspended from their belt before returning to the ground.

Moving inside the bamboo shed, we could see a number of crude stills, connected to the brick chimneys visible outside and other brick fireplaces where sugar was being boiled in metal pans. The sugar-boiling was being overseen by two ladies seated on the earth floor and making the most exquisite decorations and a whistle (!) from bamboo, pausing occasionally to add a few small pieces of bamboo to the fire. A large tray of brown sugar 'sweets' was drying in another part of the shed.

The distillation process involves the liquor being heated in a still until it vaporises. A large pan of cold water is placed on top of the still to condense the vapour which is allowed to run down a delivery tube into a waiting glass bottle.

We were given a sample of the 'Toddy' - it certainly seemed a fiery drink! We were also invited to try the 'sweets' which I found delicious. It was a very pleasant interlude with a lot of smiling. As we left we were presented with a small woven bamboo 'purse' containing the 'sweets', two of the decorations and one of the whistles. Pictures of the Toddy Palm Plantation.

As we continued towards Mount Popa, the road started to climb and the temperature dropped noticeably. By the time we arrived at the township of Mount Popa it was raining quite hard. We passed a monastery and parked in the main street near the entrance to the Taung Kalat temples.

Mount Popa is an extinct volcano which rises to almost 5,000 feet above sea level. It is the home of the 37 'Nats' or spirits which form an important part of the beliefs of most Burmese. The Taung Kalat temples are at the summit of a pillar of rock in the town reached by a climb of 777 steps. The steps are covered but open at the side so we still got fairly wet on the ascent. Many of the steps were tiled so they became quite slippery with the rainwater sluicing down but, with the aid of the handrails, it wasn't too bad. A large number of monkeys inhabit the mountain so we were carefully observed at every step. The monkeys have a reputation for being aggressive, but they seemed mainly curious. At the top, there are a number of temples and stunning views, muted somewhat by the appalling weather. On our way down, we paused to buy some sugar cane to feed to the monkeys who appreciated the gesture. Oh, and we made a contribution to the 'Temple Cleaners' who had solicited tips on the way up. This was also appreciated. Not all of our group had made the ascent but, despite the weather, I found it very worth-while. Pictures at Mount Popa.

Lunch had been arranged for us at the nearby Mount Popa Resort which is situated in a National Park and built on a wooded mountainside of Mount Popa itself, at an elevation of 2,618 feet. When we arrived, we found our other bus had already arrived with the rest of the guests on the trip together with the T.V. crew and the Ship's Doctor. Dampened spirits were revived by an excellent lunch. By the time we'd eaten, the rain had stopped and we could enjoy marvellous views of Mount Popa itself, before boarding the bus to return to the ship. Pictures at Mount Popa Resort.

Doctor Hla Tun explained that our route back to the ship would take us within a couple of miles of Ti Pu Village, where 'Road to Mandalay' guests had provided support for new school buildings. I was keen to see what had been achieved, so I discussed with my fellow guests the possibility of a detour. Everybody was happy to make the side trip so, when we set off, the Doctor travelled in the bus with us, in order to show us some of the work for the local people that 'Road to Mandalay' is doing. The side trip is described in a separate post here.

After the visit to Ti Pu, we carried on back to ship after a thoroughly enjoyable, if exhausting, day.

I didn't realise it back in August 2009, but I was to return to Mount Popa Resort and Ti-Pu.

Cruising downstream on the 'Road to Mandalay'

Thursday 27th August 2009

Where was I? In the last episode, we’d just walked round the delightful ‘Pottery Village’ and then we took the coach back to the dock. We were there for 9:30 a.m., because the ship was due to set sail at 10:00 a.m. for Bagan. I was not altogether surprised when Captain Myo Lwin cast off a little early around 9:45 – a good captain is only happy when his ship is under way and his ship has been unable to ply ‘The Road to Mandalay’ in Kipling’s famous phrase describing the river for so many months.

Around 40 Orient Express ‘Logistics Staff’ and others watched from the dock as the ‘Road to Mandalay’ gently moved away from the dock and pivoted to place the bow downstream (the Voith-Sneider propulsion system makes the ship very manoeverable). There is a pagoda just downsteam of the dock and the captain first pointed the ship towards the pagoda and made the appropriate obeisance to ensure a safe journey. The TV crew, of course, were collecting pictures of the departure.

When the ship is moored at the berth, hinging booms are deployed into the river bed to hold the ship steady. Once raised vertically into the sailing position, a member of the crew, wearing a safety harness, set about cleaning and repainting the discoloured ends of the booms. Buffet lunch was served on the top deck and the weather remained hot. I spent some time on the bridge, at the invitation of the Captain and we chatted about many topics. In the afternoon there was a demonstration of Thanaka, the creamy, natural make-up made from the Thanaka tree. One of the girls on the staff applied Thanaka in a pretty, leaf-shaped design to the cheeks of the ladies who wanted to participate. The Longyi is the traditional lower garment available in versions for men and women and guests were shown how to wear these. From mid-afternoon, afternoon tea was served in the Piano Bar and this was followed by a lecture on Myanmar’s racial groups.

The ship continued downstream and moored midstream around sunset, pointing the bow upstream and dropping the anchors. In the early evening, a ‘Longyi Cocktail Party’ took place on the Top Deck as a prelude to full dinner in the Restaurant. We were a small but very varied band of passengers and I was surprised how quickly new friendships developed. Various nationalities, from solitary travellers like myself to parties of four, all seemed to get on very well. Pictures of the cruise downstream.

The evening terminated in a ‘Surprise on the River’. Around 2,000 tiny rafts, each carrying a lighted candle and some fitted with a coloured paper screen to produce varied colours, floated down the river towards us from upstream where, hidden in the darkness, local villagers retained by ‘Road to Mandalay’ lit and launched the craft from a number of boats positioned across the river. The emotion as these lights came towards us, embraced the ship some passing on the one side some on the other then disappearing into the darkness downstream, is hard to describe. As the passengers made their way to bed (or to the Piano Bar for late-night drinks), there were many moist eyes at the beauty of the effect.

Friday 28th August 2009

We were due to set sail at 6.30 a.m., so I ordered morning tea in my cabin for six. It arrived promptly but by the time I was ready to greet the day, the ship was already continuing downstream. My previous trip on this river had been in the dry season when, in places, there was barely enough water for a ship as large as ‘Road to Mandalay’ even though she is flat-bottomed and designed originally for river cruising. This trip is in the Rainy Season where the river level can be tens of feet higher and all the adjacent flatland is inundated. The river water brings precious soil nutrients in suspension and this natural fertilisation allows farmers to produce up to three crops a year. Breakfast was served with the usual flair in the restaurant and, before 9.00 a.m., we had moored midstream opposite a simple landing stage near Old Bagan, ready for our visit ashore.

A number of local motor boats came out from the shore to act as ‘Tenders’. The ship carries its own handrailed gangway which can be lowered almost to water level to allow passengers an easy transfer from the ship’s reception area to the small boats. Passengers going ashore were then divided into a number of small groups by ‘preferred language’ and each group had its own tour guide. The boats are wooden, built in a traditional style. They have a rudder for steering and a Chinese-made small diesel engine driving a long shaft terminated in a conventional screw propellor. The engine mount has limited movement, to allow the prop to be lifted clear of the water but, unlike Thai ‘longtail boats’, the tiller is used as well. The diesel engines have no electric start so a crank handle is inserted and turned furiously to get them to ‘fire-up’.

We were soon ashore and climbing the path leading up the river bank to the Plain of Bagan. In addition to crowds of locals just interested in the re-starting of the ‘Road to Mandalay’ cruises, we were mobbed by dozens of souvenir sellers, many quite young. A series of wooden-wheeled horse-drawn carts were waiting for us and we divided ourselves between these vehicles, two per cart, and set off in convoy down the main track of compressed sand. Whereas in most places a horse-drawn taxi would be retained for the tourists, here in Bagan they are the standard ‘Taxi’ used by residents. At most major road junctions, there are usually a couple of these carts parked under a shading tree waiting to be hired. I found myself sharing a horse taxi with Franz, the Country Manager from Orient-Express, on a fact-finding expedition. He commented that what should have been a magical experience, quietly moving past the dozens of small pagodas in our horse carts was marred by being followed by a number of noisy motor cycles and bicycles used by the more-determined souvenir sellers. The motor bikes can continue to sell even as you are moving – the rider keeps station next to the cart whilst the pillion passenger displays the goods on offer and gives the ‘patter’ about the quality and value. Longyi, jewellery, bangles, pictures, lacquerware and other craft items are all for sale. We passed the famous Ananda Temple and left our horse carts outside the Sulamani temple, where there were more souvenir sellers, some with very elaborate stalls extending right up to the temple precinct. Only once we entered the temple, in bare feet, did the hubbub of the souvenir sellers recede and we could listen to the descriptions given by our various guides.

Our tour buses had followed us to the temple so after we had emerged and run the gauntlet of the souvenir-sellers, we boarded the buses for a journey of a few miles to the revered Shwezigon Pagoda. After walking round this large temple complex, there was a long arcade of souvenir sellers before we boarded the buses for the journey back to the boat. We paused for a fascinating visit to the ‘Everstand’ lacquerware workshop where the owner ‘Mister Moustache’ explained in detail the making of lacquerware before conducting us around the site to look at the processes in detail. A modern showroom displayed the vast range of articles produced in lacquerware and, with no pressure to buy, our group seemed far more willing to purchase souvenirs. At the landing stage, we negotiated the waiting sellers and took the motor boats back to the ship moored mid-channel. It looked very elegant in the bright sunshine. Once again, buffet lunch was provided on the top deck.

At 2.30 p.m. we were off again by bus. Our first stop was the Dhamma Ya Zika Pagoda. Then, we moved on to a village where we were allowed to look into the house of a land-owning family. The old grandmother was spinning cotton on a fairly crude spinning wheel. Another family member was preparing the cotton to be woven on a hand loom. Photographs of young people obtaining their degrees were displayed on the wooden framing for a mezzanine floor where the children sleep. We moved on to a riverside Pagoda and then looked around the Ananda Temple before our final call – the upper terraces of the so-called ‘Sunset Pagoda’ to watch the sunset. Our TV crew were also on hand to record the event. The surprise for me was when a teenage boy came up and said “Remember me?” and it was my ‘chaperone’ from my bike ride on my first visit to Bagan. In a while, we were joined by his younger brother. They both said we should repeat the bike trip. Although I’d had the same idea myself, I said that I would have to check first, so the elder boy gave me a scrap of paper with name and a mobile number which could be used to make arrangements. Then it was back to the ship, still patiently waiting mid-stream. Exploring Bagan.

Dinner was a farewell meal as some passengers were booked one-way only (Mandalay – Bagan) and would leave the ship the following morning. Other guests were due to join the ship for the return cruise to Mandalay. Following the Farewell Dinner, there was a puppet show using traditional Myanmar marionettes.

The Ayerwaddy Revisited

I write this, in haste, at the end of a hectic week in the Union of Myanmar (which used to be called Burma). The easiest way into and out of Burma is probably by flying between Bangkok and Yangon (which used to be 'Rangoon' hence the airline ticketing code 'RGN').

Tuesday 25th August 2009

I had a good flight from Bangkok to Yangon with Thai Airways. It's only an hour from take-off to landing but they manage to serve a decent cold meal. It was almost dark as we came 'over the fence' at Yangon but I spotted an anti-clockwise diesel-hauled Circle Line train starting away from the nearly station. As we approached the international terminal, I noticed that the blue illuminated sign read 'YANGON INTER...NAL AIRPORT'. I had carefully completed all the required arrival forms before we landed but somehow managed to lose the special 'Influenza' medical form they use between the aircraft and the arrival hall. By the time I'd filled in a replacement, I was well down the queue for immigration but I got through without further incident, retrieved my bag and was waved through customs. I soon met Mr. Win, the 'Road To Mandalay' guide from the last trip and, together with a lady from Sydney (joining a party of ladies to celebrate the 50th birthday of one of them by taking the 'Road to Mandalay' cruise) we set off in a 'People Carrier' for the Strand Hotel. I received a warm welcome from the staff and, after a brief look at the room and making arrangements for an early call and breakfast, went to look for the internet.

Google Mail seemed to work but I was not altogether surprised to find that I could neither write to nor read blogs. Suddenly a 'Chat' window opened with 'Nyi Lwin' calling. When he identified his location as Mandalay, I realised it was the helpful Shipping Agent who'd helped me on my last trip. "I'll be in Mandalay tomorrow", I sent. "Really?" came the incredulous reply. "Really", I confirmed. So he left me his mobile number to enable me to make contact.

Wednesday 26th August 2009

I slept well in the huge bed but had to get up at 4.45 a.m. My alarm call was on time, breakfast in my room was exactly as ordered so I was ready to leave at 5.45 a.m. when Maung Win, the guide, arrived. The ten miles to the airport was quickly covered and boarding cards were ready for us. Nicholas, from the Orient Express office in Yangon, was on hand and San, one of the guides from my first trip on 'Road to Mandalay'. I learned that Mr. Win was also flying to Mandalay with us to act as one of the cruise guides. We chatted for a minute before I went into the departure hall. It's a little basic in Domestic Departures so I was quite pleased when our flight was called. We were loaded onto a non-air conditioned transfer bus for the very short journey onto the apron where our Yangon Airways ATR 72-210 waited. This is an advanced turbo-prop design with 2+2 seating.

It took about 75 minutes to fly north to Mandalay at 20,000 feet. We landed using very little of Mandalay's runway (the longest in south east Asia), took the high-speed turn-off and had soon parked on the apron. Again, a bus took us the short distance to the large, deserted terminal. We made our way outside to the car park and the 'Road to Manadalay' contingent boarded two (or was it three?) buses. Win was guide on our bus, San took another and Mi Mi, the German speaking guide, a third. We didn't go straight to the boat. We headed for the area of Amarapura and the market at Tagundaing. We wandered around crowded market, greeted by friendly smiles from the curious locals. Market pictures. A short drive took us to nearby Maha Ganda Yong teaching monastery. This is a large establishment, currently under extension, where young trainees abide by the ten Rules of Conduct of the order founded by the Venerable Janakabhivamsa:-

FIRST: To have a kindly disposition.
SECOND: To observe the Monastic Code of Discipline.
THIRD: To keep good health.
FOURTH: To keep clean.
FIFTH: To know how to dress.
SIXTH: To know how to behave.
SEVENTH: To kow how to talk.
EIGHTH: To know how to behave.
NINTH: To obey the rules.
TENTH: To be literate.

We briefly looked at the kitchens where men were engaged in preparing the huge amounts of food consumed by the monks and trainees. The first bell sounded for the second (and last) meal of the day at noon and people started to form up in two queues. At the second bell, the queues moved quickly as food was served and people took their seats in the refectory. In a surprisingly short time, the food was eaten, the food bowls washed (a task which monks must personally attend to) and people were streaming back to continue their studies. Monastery pictures.

It was only a short drive from the monastery to the 'Road to Mandalay' dock at Shwe Kyet Yet. Externally, the ship looked the same but internally significant changes have been made and the cabins have been completely remodelled. They have retained around 80% of the original staff so, for me, it was like a homecoming. The Captain and the Ship's Doctor were there in uniform to welcome the guests with Esther the hotel manager and a host of faces I instantly recognised. A German film crew was present - I learned that they would accompany us on the journey so as to make a travel documentary and promotional DVD for Orient Express. Within moments, I was led to my room a few yards from the reception desk. No expense has been spared in offering passengers an attractive ambience in which to spend a few days. The not-unpleasant smell of new paint was detectable because this trip will be a 'Maiden Voyage'. Technically, this is the third such voyage - the first was in Germany in 1964 where the ship operated on the Rhine, the second when she was inaugurated as 'Road to Manadalay' on the Ayerwaddy River (which the English called the 'Irrawaddy' and now this trip, following repairs after the damage sustained during Cyclone Nargis. For this 'shakedown cruise', only around thirty passengers are being carried soth and about 40 returning north, against a capacity of 82. There was time to tour the facilities and chat with crew and passengers before a buffet lunch was served. I then spent some time with the Doctor, discussing his experiences doing medical charity work following the Cyclone, before setting off with Maung Win in a coach to look at Mandalay City. The energetic Country Manager of Orient Express in Myanmar, Franz Von Merhart, was on the ship for this first cruise and he accompanied us on this and a number of tours.

First stop was the ‘Street of the Marble Carvers’. The ship had managed to get in touch with Nyi Lwin who’d arranged some shipping for me on my last trip and I’d been given a shop number where he’d be. While Mr. Win showed the group some of the products on offer, I walked ahead looking for shop numbers. Suddenly, someone spoke to me – “I’m who you’re looking for” and it was Nyi Lwin. His wife came out of the shop with their lovely eight-month old daughter and we chatted for a few minutes until the tour group caught up with us. When I held their daughter, she laid her head on my chest and seemed quite comfortable. I was reluctant to hand her back and say goodbye.

Nearby, we could hear local instruments and singing amplified electronically. A ‘Spirit Dance’ was in progress. The musical line-up included one of the huge, round percussion instruments in which the player sits inside and there were a number of dancers snaking around in the limited space. Somewhat deafened, we climbed back on our bus.

Next stop was the famous Mahamuni Temple, which is always crowded with worshippers and has a long arcade of stalls. Franz was concerned at the juxtaposition of the sacred and the mundane and felt that some of his customers might be disturbed at what they saw.

We moved to a small gold leaf workshop. Whereas most gold leaf is now made by machine, in Myanmar the traditional, labour-intensive manual process is still found where the timing of each period of beating is carried out by a simple ‘water clock’ where half of a coconut shell with a small timing hole sits in a bowl of water. The shell fills with water until it is no longer buoyant – the sudden sinking of the shell indicates the end of the timing period. In another room, ladies cut the finished gold leaf into squares and stack them, each square interleaved with paper, for sale. A nearby shop displayed various snakeskins and animal skins used for making belts and similar items. Distasteful as I find the trade, I cannot be superior since I wear leather shoes.

Another drive in our coach took us to ‘The World’s Largest Book’, as accepted by the Guiness Book of Superlatives. The Kuthodaw Pagoda features line upon line of small white-painted pagodas, each carrying a page of Buddhist scripture engraved on a stone tablet.

Pictures of ‘The World’s Largest Book’.

By the time we reached the famous wooden Shwenandaw Monastery, it had already closed for the day so, after studying the ancient structure from outside the enclosing wall, we drove through the city and south back to Amarapura, site of the famous Ubain Bridge across the lake. This bridge is built of teak and is, I believe, 1.4 km in length. Last time I was here, I took a small boat cruise on the lake, criss-crossing under the bridge. This time, I determined to walk on the bridge so I set off at a good pace. I was not sure whether the time allowed would let me complete the crossing and return. A 14-year old girl attached herself to me and together we crossed the bridge. She proudly explained that she was a Monitor at school. She will go far – we’d walked over 1 km before she revealed that she was selling necklaces and it was clear that she intended to do the complete 2.8 km trek in order to close a deal. We made it to dry land on the far side of the bridge, having agreed a sale. For the return journey, a younger girl, aged around 11, joined us. By the time we were back at the coach, I had purchased three necklaces, impressed with the efforts that these young people are prepared to expend to make a sale. As it became dark, we returned to the ship for dinner. After dinner, we were entertained by a Yamayana play dramatising traditional Hindu epic adventures of Yama.

Thursday 27th August 2009

I ordered early morning tea in my cabin, intending to leave at 6:40 a.m. to see the offering of Alms to the monks at the local Monastery. Mr. Win led a small party across the main road and to the monastery where the Captain and members of the crew had set up a table of food. The monks were lining up to receive the food and the film crew were on hand to record the event.

Pictures of the Alms Giving.

We returned on foot to the ship, to leave again soon after to drive to a nearby village which is involved in making pottery. Walking along the dusty track through the village, watched by curious children and passed by occasional bullock carts, we were transported to a totally different way of life. Various pottery artefacts were laid outside the bamboo houses to dry in the sun. We were intrigued by row after row of closed jars with a straight slot near the top – these are money boxes, smaller ones for children, larger, more decorated ones for older people saving for their retirement.

Although I've visited Myanmar twice before, this country retains the power to amaze and delight. I'll tell you more of my experiences on this trip next time.

A morning in Bangkok

I started the day with breakfast on the terrace at my hotel. It's hot, just how I like it. The river teems with ferries, longtail boats and the noisy tugs dragging their trains of massive barges up and down the river. After breakfast, I take the hotel ferry to nearby Saphan Taksin where a short walk gets me to the overhead 'Skytrain'. I ride the 'Skytain' to Sala Daeng. Here an overhead walkway leads a few hundred yards to Silom where I go underground to catch the mass transit to Hua Lumphong.

This, gentle reader, is the location of Bangkok's main railway station. My firm was involved in the supply of a lot of equipment to GEC for use on the railways throughout Thailand so I can rarely resist the instinct to visit this station when I'm in Bangkok. After watching the operation of this busy terminus for a while, I retraced my route to Saphan Taksin.

I had determined to take a trip on the river and ended up on the 11:00 a.m. express tourist boat which I took upstream past Wat Pho and Grand Palace to the terminus, returning on the same boat. The express tourist boat seems to make conditional stops as required and appears to be used by quite a few Thais. I indicated my desire to alight at the 'Oriental' Public Landing Stage and was amused when the deck hand pushed a bell push once to alert the captain. The public landing stage leads to a street lined with the makeshift street restaurants used by Thais which is just a few minutes walk from the hotel. The public landing stage is used by various river taxi services and a well-patronised public cross-river ferry - the hotel's private ferries use a private landing stage on hotel land. At 11:50 a.m. I was back on dry land and soon back in my room, preparing to check-out (oh, and uploading a few more photographs). At 2.15 p.m. I left the hotel by car for transfer to the airport. The journey was much quicker than in the opposite direction yesterday morning (was it only yesterday morning? It seems much longer to me!). Check-in and passport control was very fast then I walked to the Thai lounge nearest my departure gate. I was ready for a light snack and a drink but I was also delighted that my computer immediately connected to the Thai 'Wi-Fi' so that I could post this whilst waiting for my flight to Yangon.

My pictures of Bangkok (taken on various visits) are here.

Back to Bangkok

Jet Airways operated a Boeing 777-300ER (Extended Range) on the Heathrow - Mumbai leg, powered by two huge turbo-fans. Their 'Premiere' class has a layout I've not seen before, a sort of 1-2-1 layout where each seat is an aisle seat. Each seat is angled inwards, facing forward, and has its own 'cubicle' for privacy. The window seats give a fairly limited view out, because of the angling.

The 'cubicle' features a hinging, swing-out video touch screen, which can also be controlled from the usual handset). The telephone part of the handset has a full 'QWERTY' keyboard. Services are 'on demand'. The film choice was not as large as some airlines but I decided to watch the 'Startrek XI' prequel since it had received good reviews. I found it an excellent 'yarn' and the casting of the young crew members was very convincing. The production values are quite different from any other 'Startrek' I've seen but it was very entertaining ("It's Startrek, Jim, but not as we know it."). Leonard Nimoy has a role as the time-travelling elderly Spock.

Back in the 'real world' (if you can regard travelling at six hundred miles an hour in a metal tube five miles above the Earth 'real'), cabin service was excellent and the meal was nicely presented. We were a few miutes late into Mumbai because of air traffic delays on the approach. We disembarked via an air bridge and transit passengers for Hong Kong and Bangkok were called aside whilst the other passengers made their way off the aircraft. Transit passengers were then conducted on the usual long walk through featureless corridors until we arrived at a security station where we were divided into two long queues of transit passengers (men and women separated) to have our hand luggage X-rayed and ourselves metal-detected and hand searched. This took about forty minutes but, once again, the security staff seemed friendly. After a final check of our pre-issued boarding pass for the connecting flight, we were disgorged 'Airside' to find our way to the appropriate gate. Midnight on Sunday local time and the airport was crowded! I stumbled across the Jet Airways business lounge and ducked inside. This was fairly busy too but I grabbed a 'Coke' and found a place to use my notebook computer to write a few words. The flight was soon called and I had only a short walk to Gate 13 for bus transfer to the waiting aircraft. The Mumbai - Bangkok flight was a 737-800. The Boeing 737 twin-engined aircraft has been a ubitquitous workhorse for years. The various later variants (like the -800) are a far cry from the early 737s I saw years ago. A meal was served shortly after take-off but then the cabin was put into 'dark mode' for sleeping for the rest of the four-hour flight. I slept fitfully but this leg rather dragged so I was pleased when we got to Bangkok.

Most of the airport workers at Bangkok were wearing masks against Swine Flu and incoming passengers were being screened by a thermal camera (to look for those with high temperatures). Immigration and baggage reclaim was painless and, once my hand baggage was X-rayed in Customs, I was into the arrivals hall. After a few minutes, I found my young lady guide, correctly guessing that the sign saying 'JANW FORD' meant me. We joined the car and driver and set off for the city. Around 7.00 a.m. on a Monday morning is not a good time to take the toll road into Bangkok and it was well over an hour before we arrived at the Mandarin Oriental Hotel. I'd expected a Garden Wing room but was told that this had closed for refurbishment a couple of weeks ago so I was on the seventh floor of the River Wing with good views of the Chao Phraya River.

There was time for a quick shower and a change before meeting the guide again for a tour of Wat Pho (sometimes spelled 'Wat Po') and the Grand Palace. Although I've been to Thailand many times (initially, in connection with my work, then for pleasure) somehow I'd never been to either location. I won't bore you with details of my visit ('that makes a change' I hear you say) but I've put links to a couple of websites:

Wat Pho.
Grand Palace and other Thai Palaces.

My pictures of Bangkok (taken on various visits) are here.

My pictures of Wat Pho are here.

By this time, I was getting pretty tired but the guide still wanted to call at 'Gems Gallery' which bills itself as "The World's Biggest Jewelry Store" (sorry about the American spelling which is endemic in Thailand - thinking about it, more-or-less endemic everywhere). I realised I'd been before and it certainly is a very professional operation. Tourism might be down in Thailand, but this place was heaving with visitors.

By the time I was dropped off at the Oriental, I was pretty tired so I 'crashed out' on the bed for a couple of hours. I'd an invitation to a cocktail party in the Author's Wing where I met the general manager, had a couple of orange juice and then went for dinner outside on the terrace watching the river traffic. Regular readers will not be surprised to hear I had 'fish and chips'. Presentation was not quite what we're used to but the taste was excellent.

Part of the hotel is on the opposite bank of the river and two free hotel ferry boats ply between the two halves of the hotel and a couple of other locations on demand. I couldn't resist a trip to the other shore but after a short walk round the facilities (restaurant, spa, healthclub, cookery school and more) it was back to my room to finish this post.

My archive of pictures at the Oriental are here.

For more on the hotel try the Oriental Website.