We’d been told by many that Myanmar is a jewel in SE Asia so
booked our flights out of Golden Week chaos a couple of months in advance. Myanmar/Burma has had a turbulent past
getting caught in the middle of the British Empires land grab, then occupied by
the Japanese, then ruled by a brutal military regime before finally getting a
democratically elected leader in 2015. Aung San Suu Kyi (The Lady as she is known throughout Myanmar) is not the
ruler as she is barred due to her foreign links however she is all but in name
the leader.
Despite that, her government is still dominated
by military seats so the fight for democracy is far from over and the internal
battles between the 135 ethnic groups, military and civilians continue. Most notably at the moment the persecution of
the Rohinga people who have been living in refugee camps for over 20 years but
a recent bout of ethnic cleansing has put the spotlight on them once more.
We debated long and hard as to whether to
cancel the trip. Clearly the presence of 2 westerners in the other end of the
country will not make a jot of difference to the welfare of thousands of
displaced people on the Myanmar/Bangladeshi border but making a holiday
destination of somewhere with such blatant human rights issues didn’t sit well.
On the flip-side we live in a country
where people are still disappeared for their views, pay taxes in the UK that fund
illegal wars, and have been to many countries under oppressive regimes before
now. The fact that the BBC are covering this one now doesn’t really alter facts
– just our emotions.
We’re still not decided whether it was the
right thing to do, but we went. Myanmar is a big country and at no point did we
see or hear anything that would give any indication of the conflict. There is
also an ongoing war with China along the Northern State borders that is
invisible to all but the fighters in that immediate area. We did ask some Burmese people about the
Rohinga situation and they were united in their view - it’s unfair that Myanmar
and The Lady are being judged by the world because they’ve suffered terrorism
at the hands of the Rohinga for years. They told us stories of children being
raped and murdered, of towns being no-go areas for any non-Rohinga, and of the
Rohinga people burning their own houses down to point blame at Myanmar. They are convinced that it’s Bangladesh’s
problem (believing them to have come from Bangladesh as economic migrants
rather than being introduced by the British as immigrant labour and then
abandoned). Their government-led press
has told them consistent stories for years and there is no sympathy for the
plight of this tribe. Even some UN
workers we met (who were very reluctant to discuss it) told us that it was estimated
95%+ of The Lady’s supporters were anti-Rohinga so for her to denounce the
military actions would get her kicked out of power, and the brutal military regime
would take control again.
So, with lots of heavy sighing we decided that
we’d spend money on Mom&Pop guesthouses and restaurants only, and try and
limit the amount of tourist money that feeds its way back to the government.
Not sure how much more responsible travel can get in those situations.
Flying into Myanmar (we came in from Kunming so
flew over the length of the country North to South) we were struck by how green
it is. The landscape of jungle was only interrupted
by the glisten of a temple roof or the curve of a river. It is the least built up country in SE Asia
(as well as one of the poorest) and astounding to see so much land that
untouched when it’s neighbours have well established super-cities.
We arrived in Yangon (Rangoon for those of us
with Colonial history books) and immediately melted. The humidity averages 80% and as we were
landing in the tail-end of the rainy season the difference from dry Beijing
couldn’t have been greater.
A fleeting visit as we were heading north the
next morning so saw nothing beyond a local noodle bar where I brandished my ‘I
am vegetarian’ sign at them and actually fared better than Chris as a
result. Myanmar takes its cuisine from
neighbouring China, Thailand and India but seems to have taken the least
interesting aspects of each and as such is pretty bland. Super-cheap but more functional than
enjoyable.
Bagan
Day 1 we got a local bus 10 hours north to
Bagan – the highlight of Myanmar. Surrounding Bagan a little hippy enclave has
sprung up catering for back-packers which makes it very easy to get good cheap accommodation. We hired bikes and cycled round lots (didn’t
count but after 2 days if felt like we’d seen most) of the 3000+ temples and
stupas. We got up early to see sunrise,
we climbed to the top tier to watch sunset and while our camera’s will never do
it justice it is indeed a very beautiful place.
Bagan
isn’t a UNESCO site because it’s suspected that only about 5% of the donated
funds to restoring the temples get anywhere near the temples. And that 5% isn’t
done with much sympathy. It is however
just becoming popular with Chinese tourists. We didn’t see any Chinese in any
other city so it must be a stop-off on a wider tour but the enjoyment of one
temple visit was greatly diminished by 2 coach loads of camera wielding selfie
taking hawking shouting kinsmen. For 30
minutes the solitude was replaced with elbowing, shouting, shrieking,
bunny-ears etc. then someone gave a command and 80 people vanished as quickly
as they’d arrived.
We took a boat up the Irrawaddy River to see
sunset and moonrise which was wonderful.
Our boatman had promised us treats and sure enough, local beer and
tempura was provided. I will never
understand tempura but we partook politely (threw most to the fishes) and Chris
saw the beer off before it got warm enough to taste.
Mandalay
From Bagan we took a boat to Mandalay. We broke
down a few times, got hit with a downpour and due to the lack of shade got way
too much sun but after 11 hours of looking at the same view we were there. We were lucky as the river was high. In
low-tide it can take 20 hours.
I had romantic ideas about Mandalay that I can’t reason. Something to do with Daphne du Maurier I think. Anyway, in reality it’s a typical functioning city – polluted, crazy traffic, hot and humid. After the calm of Bagan it felt busy but in reality it’s only got <2m population.
We were there for October Moon festival so
lots of people flocked down to the stone temples to celebrate and of course we
joined them. The temples each hold a
page of a book, only the book is made of stone so each page is a massive tablet
of stone. Lots of singing and dancing,
sharing food and providing strangers with water going on. An incredibly
friendly and welcoming atmosphere and while most people are too shy to engage
in conversation everyone will say ‘mingalaba’ and smile.
More temples, monasteries, the country’s
biggest un-cracked bell (that gives you an idea of how many non-temple things
there are to visit), more boat rides and we got a bus to the cooler climes of
Kalaw – a hill station town favoured by the Empire as an escape from the
ferocious heat.
A note on Monks. Unlike our recent trip to Tibet where being a
monk is a lifetime’s devotion, it’s not quite as binding in Myanmar. You can be a monk for a year then go back to
civvie life, get married, get a job etc.
Then if you have a row at home you can bugger off to a monastery for a
few months under the guise of self-reflection.
You can eat meat and drink alcohol in your ‘non-monk’ days before abstaining
again when you re-enter the monastery.
Children with no parents or poor parents tend
to get educated by monks/nuns so it’s very usual to see boys (orange robes) and
girls (pink robes) collecting food and money donations door to door before
going back to the monastery/convent for hours of lessons and meditation.
Kalaw
A drop of 10 degrees makes Kalaw more
manageable but not very interesting!
Trekking is the done thing here so we set off with a local guide to take
us through the hill tribes. We were
hoping to find out more about the local customs, languages etc of the different
tribes but our guide turned out to be Myanmar’s version of Alan Titchmarsh and
stopped to point out every plant we walked past.
Interesting to begin with but we began to
suspect he was taking the piss when he showed us the medicinal wonders of doc
leaves. After 4 hours of this
horticultural expertise we got to stop at our first village for lunch and a
respite from plant enthusiasm.
I don’t like mid-day eating when trekking as it
makes me feel sick if there’s afternoon climbing but accept it’s necessary to
keep going. Imagine my delight then at
being served curried eggs and green tea.
Lots and lots of curried eggs under the watchful eye of our host keen to
make sure she’d done a good job.
The afternoon was all uphill as expected but
thankfully Titchmarsh laid off the lectures and led us through tea plantations,
poppy and rice fields before announcing our final climb. To be
fair he did tell us about the tribes but admitted he couldn’t speak with them
as their languages don’t overlap sufficiently. In his defense he spoke Burmese,
his own tribe’s language, and English so we couldn’t expect much more. Each
tribe is closed to outsiders. If someone
marries an outsider they have to live in a hut by themselves as neither village
wants them. We walked through 3 villages
in 1 day which shows how physically close together they are yet still see each
other as strangers. In-breeding is rife but things are changing and outsider marriages
are increasing, polygamy almost non-existent and the amount of people living
outside of their villages will soon fill in the gaps between the boundaries.
The final climb was great – low cloud in jungle
looks incredible. The insects are noisy (apart from the ones eating my legs),
the heat is immense and underfoot becomes like a luge. Chris remained upright
while my famed mountain-goat skills meant I reached the top covered in mud and
scratches. But happy.
At night Kalaw is pack-dog territory. In the daytime they laze in the heat
(although we were warned not to walk through them solo as they have been known
to take on lone humans) but at night it’s turf war. Canine Jets and Sharks make a lot of noise ALL
NIGHT so despitetrek fatigue the bus ride to Inle Lake the following day
provided better sleep.
Inle Lake
It’s big.
45 square miles big. We spent a
day being rowed around various villages famous for weaving (lotus root, silk
and cotton), silver smiths, boat making and breeding Burmese cats.
Tourism aside, the lake provides livelihood
for fishermen (famed for their one-legged rowing technique) and farmers who’ve
created huge floating fields of vegetables by stacking soil on bamboo rafts
bound together.
So – back to the cats.
Purebreds died out in Burma in 1920’s and most people had bigger things
to worry so while a few muggle-cats carried the genes on they weren’t recognizable
as the regal looking creatures that used to the country’s national animal. In recent years cat donations from Europe and
Japan have led to them being re-introduced and to ensure the bloodline stays
pure they are housed on a cat-only island until there are sufficient numbers to
survive on their own. If you like cats
this is probably a nice island. If you
see nothing but evil in their eyes and find their smell overwhelmingly
unpleasant this is not a nice island.
That night it rained monsoon levels for hours and hours.
When eventually it stopped we grabbed some bikes and cycled up to a vineyard –
Myanmar’s only vineyeard where we’d heard the wine was questionable but Blessed
Be The Winemakers and all that so we felt we should lend our support.
We reached the bottom of the driveway when the rain started
again. Drenched in minutes, we took cover in a security guards sentry box and
there followed a very awkward hour of non-verbal communication with said
security guard. Eventually the
eye-rolls, shoulder shrugs and ‘will this never end’ gestures got too much for
all of us so we chanced a gap where it downgraded from monsoon to torrential
and finished the journey.
Being rained into a vineyard should be fun but it’s a sad measure
of Myanmars wine that it was a struggle.
We tasted all 4 of their wines – leaving 2 glasses undrunk. 1 white that had such a long finish that I
could taste it days later, and 1 red that Chris thought was corked but actually
was just so cherry-heavy it tasted poisonous.
As the rain was still doing its thing we ordered a glass each of the
least offensive white and willed the clouds to move. In the end we chose rain and cycled back
accepting the lesser of two evils. A sad
day in the Scarth-Cogswell vineyard log book.
Next morning off to Heho Airport to get a teeny tiny plane
back to Yangon. More bus station than
airport, we were given a sticker instead of a boarding card and when an
official held up the coloured lollipop matching our sticker off we went.
Flying in China I’m used to having my vegetarian meal
request either ignored or met with something fit for an ‘I’m a Celebrity Get Me
Out of Here’ challenge so was very surprised that while still taking off with
YangonAir we were all served a breakfast I could eat. The flight was only 1 hour yet we were given not
1 but 3 cakes for breakfast. I’ve never
had an éclair for breakfast. Or a mango Danish. Or a nut chocolate thing. But I did.
Then very much regretted it as we hit big old rain clouds…
Yangon
Last few days then to look at more temples, monasteries,
markets and temples. Safe to say we were
templed out by this stage and going to the biggest one, with the most real gold
on it’s roof, failed to excite us.
