Gangtey to Punakha

Wednesday 9th September 2009

We left my new friends at the Gangtey Lodge about 9.00 a.m. but we’d arranged one more visit before leaving the district. We parked by Beyta Community School (where yesterday’s horse ride had finished) since a visit had been arranged to see the work of the school. The school covered grade 1 to 5 but the headmaster (who oversaw the building of the school a few years ago) hoped to extend to grade 6 when an agreed building programme is complete. A wide syllabus is taught, much of it in English. The children looked smart in approved national dress and were well behaved. Each child had textbooks, exercise books and a set of pencils and coloured crayons, all provided by the Government. I looked at the maths textbook (a Bhutan – Canadian co-production in English) and found innovative modelling techniques to help young people master the manipulation of numbers and problems which I’m sure would daunt children of a similar age in my own country. Pictures of Beyta School.

We drove back along the road we'd used to get to Gangtey part of the way towards Thimphu. At the highest point (elevation 3,600 metres) we stopped to look at the chorten and take some pictures. Mist was swirling around us. We were then back to the series of hairpins leading us to lower levels. At one point, the bushes held a troop of monkeys unconcernedly munching berries.

At a couple of villages we passed through, families produce woven bamboo as a material for fences, temporary shelters or house walls. To ease the effort of slicing the bamboo longitudinally, they lay out bamboo along the road and let the traffic run over it for a while. Periodically, there were local people selling produce. If they can sell it at the roadside, it saves the cost and time of transporting it to the nearest market. Every few kilometres, we’d pass people working on the road, keeping the gutters clear and cutting back the luxuriant vegetation. We crossed a major river on a substantial girder bridge apparently provided by the Japanese. Oddly, the girders were unpainted and were brown with rust.

Bhutan has no conventional railways but it does have one ‘ropeway’ serving the remote hilltop village of Tashila. We stopped at the bottom of the ropeway to observe the operation. The main function is to take supplies up to the village, bringing back produce like potatoes and timber. When we arrived, the ropeway was working and we decided to wait for the load to arrive. The ropeway ‘driver’ (and possibly proprietor) seemed quite happy with me poking around but, with amazing self-restraint, I’ll not give you the technical details just now. The load which arrived was a substantial tree log with a number of sacks of potatoes strapped on top. This load was lowered to the ground and the return load of bundles of sacks (presumably for more potatoes) was lashed to the ‘carrier’. I was puzzled when one of the men who had helped to lash the bundles of sacks in place fixed a piece of cargo netting hammock-style above the load. I was amazed when he jumped into this ‘hammock’ and was dispatched without ceremony by the ‘driver’ on the half-hour journey to the summit. Pictures of Tashila Ropeway.

As we approached Whangdue Phodrang, the massive white bulk of the Dzong, sitting high on the cliffs overlooking the confluence of two rivers looked more like a medieval fortress than the monastery and seat of civil government it has become. The impression of a defensible place is maintained inside in some of the dark, windowless stone passageways connecting different parts of the Dzong. There are a number of ‘arrow slit’ windows as well. But the courtyards, surrounded by wooden galleries of intricate design and gaily painted are places of light, celebration and ceremony. The architecture is impressive but it’s difficult to distinguish between the genuinely ancient and the recent renovations. Perhaps it doesn’t matter. The effect is timeless and magnificent. Pictures of Whangdue Phodrang Dzong.

The town of Whangdue Phodrang lies just outside the Dzong, sharing with the Dzong its cliff-top location. There’s a huge prayer-wheel, taller than a man, in a decorated wooden pavilion. This is no mere picturesque relic – all day people come and go, giving the heavy cylinder one or more spins. The town is a wonderful, cramped place with no pavements and a host of tiny shops selling anything you could wish for. Mobile phone or DVD player needs repair? No problem. It’s messy, very human and, no doubt, dangerous with pedestrians and traffic vying for space so, inevitably, a new town is taking shape a few kilometres away. Pictures of Whangdue Phodrang Town.

We crossed the river, easing past the solitary cow which had taken up station on the bridge and continued along the Thimphu road, before turning right onto the road to Punakha. Punakha has already been blessed with a new town. It may be very convenient for the residents but it struck me as being as unattractive as most other new towns I’ve seen. A few kilometres further on, we came to what some regard as the most beautiful of Bhutan's collection of twenty Dzong, the Dzong at Punakha, which we visited the following day. The car carried on up a beautiful river valley with wooded hills on either side. The lower elevation gives a much warmer, sub-tropical climate making this a desirable spot to winter for royalty and those who can afford it alike. Tashi pointed out the roof of a traditional Bhutanese villa part-hidden in the trees on the opposite ride of the river. This was the main building of our destination, the Amankora Punakha Lodge. We parked near the riverbank by a modern suspension bridge which I realised was pedestrian only. We were greeted by staff from the Lodge who collected my luggage and hoisted it onto their shoulders. We set off single-file across the bridge over the fast-flowing river. I was presented with a short tape bearing a number of coloured prayer flags. I had to tie this to the wire cable handrail of the bridge, joining the hundreds already there, fluttering in the warm breeze. Reaching the other side of the river safely, a walk of a few yards took us to a waiting ‘golf buggy’. But this was an internal-combustion buggy which a later learned was one of two specially converted for the job by Amankora from a small Maruti van. A steep winding track took us to the building I’d seen on our arrival and the hotel manager and other staff were on hand to welcome me.

I had a shower and a light lunch in the outside courtyard and met Tashi for a bike ride. I think he was a bit worried as to how I’d get on, so he suggested we drove to a suitable place with the bikes and then rode back. We travelled in the golf buggy to the suspension bridge, walked across the bridge to the car park and there was Karma with the 4 x 4. I wondered how they’d get two mountain bikes in the back of the 4 x 4 and then I realised, with some horror, that they wouldn’t. One of the staff from the Lodge was there with a van containing two bikes and the two vehicles set off north on the public road. We travelled for about twenty minutes with me thinking we were going an awful long way and stopped. I’d expected that we’d be going on some sort of nature trail but Tashi said “Do you think you can ride back to the Lodge from here?” Suppressing the answer which sprang to mind ("No chance") I meekly said I didn’t know. Tashi was full of warnings about how bad the driving was and the animals on the road and the likelihood of plunging off the road altogether. After a perfunctory check that there were some sort of brakes and a bit of experimenting with the two gear levers, I wobbled off on my own. Once I’d got the machine in a sensible sort of mid-gear I realised that the road was predominantly downhill and started to enjoy myself. You needed to steer away from the major potholes and avoid the edge of the tarmac but it wasn’t bad. Approaching animals or pedestrians, I slowed down and sounded the bell. The locals were amused by the elderly foreigner on a bike but returned my wave and smiled. After a while, Karma passed me on the other bike and we carried on, sometimes with me in the lead, sometimes him. I managed to keep going on the uphill parts without selecting a lower gear. From time to time I could just hear the two vehicles trailing me and there were a few other vehicles on the road. I realised then I would have no difficulty getting back to the Lodge. I afterwards discovered it was only about a 6 km journey. When Karma pulled in near some houses level with the ‘Royal Chorton’ on a hill on the opposite bank, I stopped as well and we took a picture.

I set off again, this time with Tashi riding the second bike, and I was quite sorry when I pulled into the car park by the bridge to the Lodge. A few pictures on the Bike Ride.

For the first night, I had the place to myself (five more guests were to arrive on the following day). It was raining so dinner for one was moved into the charming Tea House. I enjoyed a leisurely meal as a musician played Bhutanese music using alternately a lyre and flute. I went to bed tired but happy.

Gangtey, Bhutan

Tuesday 8th September 2009

The Phobjikha Valley is at an elevation of 2,900 metres and the flora is Alpine. Rice cannot grow so potatoes are the main cash crop. It's a generally poor agrarian community although some Bhutanese maintain second homes here because of the beauty and peace.

I slept well and awoke at 5.00 a.m. The sky was already getting light and by the time I’d dressed, the sun was out and it was a wonderful morning. There were still clouds hanging over parts of the valley. Later in the morning, there was intermittent rain but nothing too harsh until around lunchtime.

The Phobjikha Valley is one of the locations where the Black-necked Cranes winter. These birds have a great spiritual significance for the local people and when electrification using overhead lines was mooted, there were fears that the eagerly-awaited arrival of these migrants would be effected. Eventually, the Government agreed to use buried cables and this work is now in progress but, at present, homes are either without electrical power or provided with limited power from solar arrays.

After a leisurely breakfast, the first visit was to Gangtey Goemba. Electricians were working at installing outside electric lights in anticipation of the arrival of mains electricity. The monastery is old and extensive renovations have been necessary recently because of beetle infestation in the ancient timbers. This work is ongoing and we saw wood carvers and painters at work. We were not able to visit the main assembly hall because examinations were in progress and the caretaker was one of those being examined. In contrast to the imposing grandeur of the main buildings, the kitchen where the monks' food is prepared was a series of rather ramshackle wooden buildings outside the main perimeter. My monastery pictures.

There’s a small village immediately outside the monastery and Tashi and I took a walk looking at the variations in style and speaking to some of the residents. We met the ‘Farmtrac’ tractor and trailer we’d seen the day before, continuing its task of bringing out the potatoes for shipment. We exchanged friendly waves with the tractor driver and his helpers. Many of these potatoes are exported by lorry to India. Pictures of Gangtey Village.

Tashi and I next set off on the 4km-long Gangtey Nature Trail. This is an easy trail, passing through various environments, pastureland with cows grazing, muddy tracks churned up by tractors where smallholders eke out an existence, forests of Blue Pine, marshland. Finally we crossed the meandering river where the Black-necked Cranes winter to meet our car by the local school. As we approached, the bell rang for the end of morning school and children began to play or walk home for a meal.

By now, the rain was pouring down so I was glad to get back into the car. However, we’d not gone far before we stopped and Tashi invited me to take a walk up a rather muddy track by some houses, where he showed me a hot stone bath-house with its wooden tub and outside fireplace for heating the stones. A little further on, we reached our destination – a small weaving shed where four young women were engaged in various processes of carpet weaving. Another short journey took us to the Black-necked Crane Information Centre, a modern, octagonal building. In addition to various displays about the bird, there is a large observation lounge overlooking the valley, equipped with powerful field glasses. Pictures along the nature trail.

It was still raining as we returned to the Lodge for lunch and it looked as if my planned horse ride for the afternoon would be cancelled. In the event, just after 2.00 p.m. the weather cleared and they said the ride could go ahead, but along public roads rather than cross-country.

A local horsewoman in national dress teamed with blue gumboots was waiting with a handsome young horse. The horse was equipped with a delicate wooden frame and a couple of blankets which apparently is the Bhutanese saddle. The stirrups were loops of rope. There should be two small loops of rope to hang on to at the front of the saddle but one was broken so I reached behind to find the strap going around the rear of the horse. It was clear the horse was going to be led by the woman so it would be a very gentle ride. Tashi walked alongside in case of difficulties. Despite my doubts, I found the horse's gait quite comfortable and soon found the confidence to hold on with one hand, using the other to operate the camera or wave at the locals who seemed delighted at this unexpected entertainment. I’d have carried on all afternoon but Karma was waiting with the car at the primary school so we stopped there and I was whisked back to the comfort of the Lodge. Pictures of the horse ride.

I had the rest of the day for work on the computer, dinner, packing and contemplation of this remarkable place. My initial appelation of ‘Land of Dreams’ still seems valid. I’m clearly not the only person to feel like this, because the ‘Lonely Planet’ introduction talks about ‘a way of life you thought had been swept away or that you’d imagined’. The dramatic scenery seems destined to be a location for a ‘Sword and Sorcery’ movie or a ‘Lord of the Rings’ tale. How can a country of 700,000 people sustain twenty huge Dzongs with their elaborate decoration and innumerable temples and religious structures? Bhutanese Nationals are expected to wear national dress and adopt the appropriate scarf when entering a Dzong. There is great respect the two (!) kings and religious beliefs are at the core of their day-to-day existence. Everything seems a bewildering mixture of Myth, Magic and Mahayana Buddhism. It’s hard for a Westerner to believe that what you see is real but it has a bewitching charm.

The Amankora Lodges have been called ‘Uber Luxury’ and you’re cosseted beyond belief from the moment you enter making rational judgements about the country even harder. So, my conclusion about Bhutan? You would have to spend a lifetime here to understand the country, but I like it.

By road from Thimphu to Gangtey

Monday 7th September 2009

After two very comfortable nights in the Amankora Thimphu, on Monday it was time to move on, to the Amankora Gangtey. A couple from Tokyo who had been staying were making the same trip but with their own car, driver and guide. Before leaving, the three of us were invited to take part in a simple ritual outside adjacent to three prayer wheels. A young monk intoned the prayer for leaving before tying a coloured thread around each of our necks. This thread is the 'Sungkay' which wards off evil, protects against illness and avoids misfortune. It should be kept in place for at least three days. Finally, there was the, by now, familiar ritual of the holy water. The monk poured a little water into our cupped palm. This is sipped and the balance spread across the top of the head.

Before leaving Thimphu, we drove to the top of a nearby hill surmounted by a transmission tower called 'Radio Hill', noted as a vantage point. The gate to Sangaygang Transmission Tower was closed, but a number of dogs were sitting, expectantly watching the gate. It was clear that, at some point, the watchman would feed them but they were still patiently waiting when we left. A footpath to the left of the gate lead to the summit of the hill which is a favourite picnic spot for locals. The whole area was covered with prayer flags, fluttering in the gentle breeze.

We returned to the town one last time, parking opposite the Post Office. Bhutan has only had a national postal service since the 1950s. The country has built up a useful business in imaginative stamp designs and frequent collectors' editions are issued. I examined the range on offer and was amazed at the various events and personalities Bhutan has chosen to honour with its issues. My pictures of Thimphu.

We headed out of town, past some of the Indian migrant worker's homes at the start of a fairly long road trip to Gangtey. We hadn’t gone far before we came to a traffic queue. Apparently, when roadworks are to be done, it’s commonplace for roads to be closed for half an hour or an hour without warning. Ahead, we could see a ’Komatsu’ tracked excavator scraping at the hillside with its bucket while perched at a very unsafe-looking angle. Every so often, sandy soil would roll down the slope to gather on the road ahead of us. After perhaps ten minutes, the excavator reversed down to the road level and used its bucket to pick up most of the spoil from the road and pile it clear of the roadway. Quite a queue had built up behind us by the time we moved off – an even longer queue was waiting to come through in the opposite direction.

This is apple-growing country and the harvest was in full swing. Every so often, we passed large stacks of wooden boxes which were being filled with apples for collection by lorry. We stopped to make a hike up a track to a famous temple. We passed a rather derlict chorten and then a number of simple houses with the owners tilling their vegetable plots, climbing all the time. Clusters of prayer flags were sending their message to the skies. At one point, an unconcerned cow blocked the narrow path and had to be shooed ahead until there was space to pass. We met a local woman who, she told Tashi, spends a lot of time in a nunnery. She insisted on wearing her rosary and fastening the button of her jacket before being photographed. She also asked if it was possible to have a copy of the photograph – photographs are not commonplace in much of Bhutan.

We arrived at the temple, which had a large, well-maintained chorten outside. Two large prayer wheels flanked the locked main door to the temple. A courtyard at the left of the main building had a teaching room where a number of young monks were practising the making of complex ritual cakes from a thick pastry mixture. The caretaker let us into the temple through a side door. After we’d examined the temple, the youngsters had broken off from their labours and were playing with three dogs. To the right of the main building there was a wider track, suitable for vehicles, and we descended by this track, passing a stream on which three water prayer wheels had been built. More farmers were working in their small fields.

We rejoined Karma and our 4 x 4 and continued along the twisting road, climbing steadily before making a halt to inspect the 108 chortens at Dochula. The hillside behind the chortens, festooned with prayer flags, is a popular picnic site. A little further on, we stopped at Dochula Resort. We’d brought a picnic lunch but it was raining intermittently, so we used the Observation Lounge at the Resort which looks out towards the Himalayas. The view was impressive enough but low cloud obscured the high mountains which can be seen in good weather. I met the owner of the resort, Ugyen Dorji, who is a master embroiderer and painter.

Leaving Docula, the road then descended via a long series of zig-zags which seemed to go on forever. We passed the turn for Punakha and carried on along the main road which runs close to the river until reaching the important town of Wangdi Phodrang, with its imposing Dzong. Here we paused for a brief immigration check before taking the road east. This road started to climb again with a series of hair-raising hairpin bends. These roads are a real test of the vehicles using them and we passed a large number of heavy lorries of various makes grinding painfully upwards and often belching smoke.

At last, we turned right off the main road and, after a few kilometres, came to Gangtey. Here, the road was completely blocked by a small tractor and trailer off-loading sacks of potatoes and an ‘Eicher’ lorry, sheeted-up, presumably already loaded with potatoes. After a short while, the driver of the lorry started it up and the whole area disappeared in clouds of smoke from the exhaust. Once he’d moved a few yards, we were able to finish our journey to the Amankora Gangtey Lodge. The usual warm welcome awaited and, since the rooms at different lodges intentionally have similar facilities and layouts, I soon felt at home again. The setting is quite different from Thimphu – the lodge looks up a long, flat valley with the Gangtey Goemba (Monastery) in a commanding position on its hill on one side of the valley.

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.