I can't quite believe I've been in China a week. Whilst not blogging, I've been swallowing up everything there is to offer in fantastic Yunnan provice, in the very south west of the country.
Yunnan borders Myanmar and Tibet so it's full of ethnic minorities, many of whom still wear traditional dress when in the feilds or catering to the tourists. So as we've toured around, it's not uncommon to see the women wearing pink head gear, like fuscia hats for Russian Cossacks, or full length yellow silk dresses with little plats in their hair (OK, the last is mainly in the tourist centres).
My first stop was Kunming, the capital of the province and what a change it was from Myanmar. I flew over the last green mountain into lego land - a bustling city of brand new highrises, which have replaced much of the old Chinese buildings that Kunming was renowned for. It's not an unpleasant city though; Olympics preparation has brought about wide boulevards and being a university town, there are funky shop front areas that would fit in well in Melbourne or Newtown.
Although Kumning doesn't have many old areas left, our next stop Lijang has a large and beautifully preserved Old Town. With polished cobble-stoned streets, low lying wooden buildings decorated with red lanterns, canals and even an ancient water wheel, stepping into Lijang was like stepping back in time to a lost China. Our guesthouse was a wooden building of two stories with a balcony on the second floor that looked down into an internal square courtyard. I felt like a concubine staying there.
And from Lijang we headed to Tiger Leaping Gorge, the reason I came to China. Drawfed bythe Ha Ba mountain range, which includes the spectacular 5,500 m Jade Dragon Snow Mountain, Tiger Leaping Gorge is said to be the deepest gorge in the world. Despite what a sacred place - and a tourist attraction - you would think this would make it to the Chinese, the gorge is seriously threatened. Developers are planning to dam it - as they've done 1000 kms downstream at the Three Gorges Dam - with building potentially commencing next year. The gorge would lose approximately half its depth and more than 100,000 people will be displaced. And because the Chinese government are advocating this doom, the area is hardly promoted. There are no postacards and hardly any infrastructure at the start and finish of the walk.
So if you love mountaints, this death sentence is even another reason for me to say come here, and sooner rather than later. Snow-capped mountains, rapids rushing through the deep gorge, curious mountain goats, peace - need I say more. Even Michael Palin's loo lived up to the view.
Read all about it at the link above if you fancy. Again, pics will come soon.
x
Friday 29 June 2007
Thursday 21 June 2007
Baking in Bagan
I've spent the last few days at perhaps Myanmar's most famous site, Bagan, home to 2500 temples, most of which are around 800 - 1000 years old.
I don't know if any other nation can have the same experience as an Australian when in the presence of such historical sites, only because our own documented history is so short. It's a marvel for us to gaze at the Notre Dame or the Colosseum, only because out big but small land was so far from being born into the nation that we know today. I don't mean to take away from the history of the aboriginals but aside from rock art, we have little to look at to understand their culture all those years ago and I, for one, wasn't taught it at school.
Sidetracked!
In short, Bagan was awesome. I ended up spending four days there, most of the time hiring a bicycle to ride through the temples, which are scattered over a 15 square kilometre (or thereabouts) area. I made some great new friends - a German couple and American guy - and of course with the Germans we had a cracking schedule organised. Our first day was the highlight, us being struck with beauty of seeing all of these temples scattered across the flat, hot plain. On our first day we also took a trip up the Ayerwaddy to see a more remote temple, and ended up having tea and fudge with a monk who was living in a cave.
When we were templed out, I shopped for lacquerware souveigneers and sand paintings (tradition lives on mum). We also took a half day trip up to Mt Popa. On top of this volcanic pinnacle is a temple to the nats, pagan spirits which the Burmese worshipped and appeased prior to the widespread adoption of Buddhism. The temple sits perched far above the earth like a prison castle in a Rapunzel-like fairytale - it is quite magical to look at.
Otherwise, there was more cycling, more Star Cola and more temples. All in 40 degree heat; we sweltered but apparently the temperature wasn't as bad as the week before when it had got up to 52! I dunno if that's the truth or just an American's translation from Fahrenheit to Celsius but nonetheless it was baking in old, beautiful Bagan.
No pics yet cos the internet is faaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarked in this country (if you even get electricity). xx
I don't know if any other nation can have the same experience as an Australian when in the presence of such historical sites, only because our own documented history is so short. It's a marvel for us to gaze at the Notre Dame or the Colosseum, only because out big but small land was so far from being born into the nation that we know today. I don't mean to take away from the history of the aboriginals but aside from rock art, we have little to look at to understand their culture all those years ago and I, for one, wasn't taught it at school.
Sidetracked!
In short, Bagan was awesome. I ended up spending four days there, most of the time hiring a bicycle to ride through the temples, which are scattered over a 15 square kilometre (or thereabouts) area. I made some great new friends - a German couple and American guy - and of course with the Germans we had a cracking schedule organised. Our first day was the highlight, us being struck with beauty of seeing all of these temples scattered across the flat, hot plain. On our first day we also took a trip up the Ayerwaddy to see a more remote temple, and ended up having tea and fudge with a monk who was living in a cave.
When we were templed out, I shopped for lacquerware souveigneers and sand paintings (tradition lives on mum). We also took a half day trip up to Mt Popa. On top of this volcanic pinnacle is a temple to the nats, pagan spirits which the Burmese worshipped and appeased prior to the widespread adoption of Buddhism. The temple sits perched far above the earth like a prison castle in a Rapunzel-like fairytale - it is quite magical to look at.
Otherwise, there was more cycling, more Star Cola and more temples. All in 40 degree heat; we sweltered but apparently the temperature wasn't as bad as the week before when it had got up to 52! I dunno if that's the truth or just an American's translation from Fahrenheit to Celsius but nonetheless it was baking in old, beautiful Bagan.
No pics yet cos the internet is faaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarked in this country (if you even get electricity). xx
Friday 15 June 2007
An ode to Burmese feet
Yoga studies have made me consider feet. And the Burmese have some of the most handsome I've ever seen! The fact that they spend their life in thongs has a lot to do with it I think. Their feet are wide like a bridge, often being too wide for the average thong. And they have strong gaps between proud toes, not squashed or calloused by shoes that are too small or highheels. They are divine.
Despite their good-looks, the foot is a little maligned here. You aren't supposed to touch anyone with your foot and have to apologise profusely if you do. But in risk of becoming a social pariah (or just being considered a mad westerner) I've become obsessed by the beauty of the Burmese foot and have got anyone in the vicinity intrigued too.
And it made for a great conversation starter during the two day journey I've just done down the Ayerwaddy River. There, I saw a man with toes so strong they were like fingers and perfectly utilised in massaging someone's back.
The Ayerwaddy herself is a handsome and significant river. She has long connected the more remote and unreachable northern parts of the country with town centre Mandalay. The Americans and the British used her greatly in colonial times to ship up missionaries and ship out the teak, respectively. The missionaries were pretty successful because there is a strong Christian, particularly Baptist, contingent in the north; and sadly the river is still being used to transport the ripped-out wood today.
The north has been the most rewarding part of the trip so far. I took the 24 hour ride up to Myitkyina, which was quite comfortable in upper class. But the highlight was when I stepped onto the train platform and met a newly-wed couple - a Japanese girl and Burmese guy - who met and lived in Dehli. They'd come home to his parents to have their wedding blessed by the family's Baptist priest.
We met for a minute and they offered me a lift and by the end of the next minute, I'd been invited to the blessing. So in Burmese and I like to think true Christian style, I was a guest in their house, witnessing the prayers and speeches given by the family and joining in the hymns (in Burmese) to the couple. As you'd imagine, it felt pretty special to be a part of.
The next morning, I skipped to Bhamo on a bus. Not much to do in Bhamo except buy a boat ticket, drink beer and eat BBQ, so all was right in Caz's world. The next morning, I hopped skipped on the big barge back to Mandalay, meeting up with a previous travel companion, English Heather, by chance along the way.
We had a truely great time doing very little for a day and a half. We made friends with the kitchenhands, so mostly spent out time in the womb of the boat amongst towers of wheat bags drinking tea, tea, Burmese tea. The routine of read, drink, check out the scenery and show kids how to play with the camera was occasionally broken up by a stop at a village, which signalled it was time to eat. La dolce vita.
We had a great time with a local fan club too. They don't see that many of us up in the north and even fewer girls on their own. So we had a great time playing with the kids, taking pictures, allowing people to look at our books and photos (in Burma, they will just take your things to look at - nothing is private), and having our faces decorated with the local bark sunscreen / make up, called thanaka.
Heather sewed a bag, I ate Mangos with the smallest knife in the world (love you Lindsay) whilst English-girl drank tea with the biggest mug in the world, as mad westerners with strange ways do.
Plus we checked out the feet.
Despite their good-looks, the foot is a little maligned here. You aren't supposed to touch anyone with your foot and have to apologise profusely if you do. But in risk of becoming a social pariah (or just being considered a mad westerner) I've become obsessed by the beauty of the Burmese foot and have got anyone in the vicinity intrigued too.
And it made for a great conversation starter during the two day journey I've just done down the Ayerwaddy River. There, I saw a man with toes so strong they were like fingers and perfectly utilised in massaging someone's back.
The Ayerwaddy herself is a handsome and significant river. She has long connected the more remote and unreachable northern parts of the country with town centre Mandalay. The Americans and the British used her greatly in colonial times to ship up missionaries and ship out the teak, respectively. The missionaries were pretty successful because there is a strong Christian, particularly Baptist, contingent in the north; and sadly the river is still being used to transport the ripped-out wood today.
The north has been the most rewarding part of the trip so far. I took the 24 hour ride up to Myitkyina, which was quite comfortable in upper class. But the highlight was when I stepped onto the train platform and met a newly-wed couple - a Japanese girl and Burmese guy - who met and lived in Dehli. They'd come home to his parents to have their wedding blessed by the family's Baptist priest.
We met for a minute and they offered me a lift and by the end of the next minute, I'd been invited to the blessing. So in Burmese and I like to think true Christian style, I was a guest in their house, witnessing the prayers and speeches given by the family and joining in the hymns (in Burmese) to the couple. As you'd imagine, it felt pretty special to be a part of.
The next morning, I skipped to Bhamo on a bus. Not much to do in Bhamo except buy a boat ticket, drink beer and eat BBQ, so all was right in Caz's world. The next morning, I hopped skipped on the big barge back to Mandalay, meeting up with a previous travel companion, English Heather, by chance along the way.
We had a truely great time doing very little for a day and a half. We made friends with the kitchenhands, so mostly spent out time in the womb of the boat amongst towers of wheat bags drinking tea, tea, Burmese tea. The routine of read, drink, check out the scenery and show kids how to play with the camera was occasionally broken up by a stop at a village, which signalled it was time to eat. La dolce vita.
We had a great time with a local fan club too. They don't see that many of us up in the north and even fewer girls on their own. So we had a great time playing with the kids, taking pictures, allowing people to look at our books and photos (in Burma, they will just take your things to look at - nothing is private), and having our faces decorated with the local bark sunscreen / make up, called thanaka.
Heather sewed a bag, I ate Mangos with the smallest knife in the world (love you Lindsay) whilst English-girl drank tea with the biggest mug in the world, as mad westerners with strange ways do.
Plus we checked out the feet.
Saturday 9 June 2007
Capitalism as the new Imperialism
I'm fanning the cobwebs of my university memories with today's blog title. But on hitting Mandalay at 4am this morning, my first impression is that Chinese money is taking over the town and its culture.
Mandalay is only 150 years old, not so ancient for an Asian town, so I can understand that there aren't that many glorious buildings to see. It's unfortunate though that the street facades are being updated with ugly Chinese buildings; four-story monstrosities of mirror-like white tiles and concave balconies. At least the British colonial buildings have gradeur and style.
Admittedly I haven't yet visited Mandalay Palace, the residence of Myanmar's last (and quite disasterous) royal family who were overthrown by the British government in the 1940s. But the palace was all but destroyed in WWII due to fighting between the British and Japanese, and apparently it was re-constructed with concrete using forced labour in the 1990s. That makes the US$10 entry fee (which goes to the government) even harder to swallow.
There are many gold, jade and ruby jewellry outlets here, also likely Chinese run, using the gems that are being mined out of Mogok (the name could be a terrible place in a Tokien novel and considering that they use forced labour there too, it's apt). I get the impression that most of Myanmar's abundant natural resources are being dug up, sawn down, siphoned out and given away. Whilst I was in the Inle Lake area, trains of trucks would pass, piled with the old-growth teak wood that is being ripped out of the hills. Myanmar's copious resources of natural gas are apparently mostly send across the borders to China, India and Thailand, the profits of which are lining the government's pockets. Ditto the teak and the gems. And let's not raise the issue of opium.
Myanmar has been eyed off as a golden opportunity by many overseas nations - the British, the Nepalese gurkas on a smaller scale (see previous entry), and now the Chinese. It's so sad to see that in a country so vast in natural resources, none of it is put towards the development of the people.
End rant.
Mandalay is only 150 years old, not so ancient for an Asian town, so I can understand that there aren't that many glorious buildings to see. It's unfortunate though that the street facades are being updated with ugly Chinese buildings; four-story monstrosities of mirror-like white tiles and concave balconies. At least the British colonial buildings have gradeur and style.
Admittedly I haven't yet visited Mandalay Palace, the residence of Myanmar's last (and quite disasterous) royal family who were overthrown by the British government in the 1940s. But the palace was all but destroyed in WWII due to fighting between the British and Japanese, and apparently it was re-constructed with concrete using forced labour in the 1990s. That makes the US$10 entry fee (which goes to the government) even harder to swallow.
There are many gold, jade and ruby jewellry outlets here, also likely Chinese run, using the gems that are being mined out of Mogok (the name could be a terrible place in a Tokien novel and considering that they use forced labour there too, it's apt). I get the impression that most of Myanmar's abundant natural resources are being dug up, sawn down, siphoned out and given away. Whilst I was in the Inle Lake area, trains of trucks would pass, piled with the old-growth teak wood that is being ripped out of the hills. Myanmar's copious resources of natural gas are apparently mostly send across the borders to China, India and Thailand, the profits of which are lining the government's pockets. Ditto the teak and the gems. And let's not raise the issue of opium.
Myanmar has been eyed off as a golden opportunity by many overseas nations - the British, the Nepalese gurkas on a smaller scale (see previous entry), and now the Chinese. It's so sad to see that in a country so vast in natural resources, none of it is put towards the development of the people.
End rant.
Thursday 7 June 2007
Laying low in Inlay
Being such a water lover, it refreshes the spirit to be close to a big body of water like that of Inlay Lake.I spent the day yesterday on a long boat trip around the lake. It's a big body of water, stretching in a slither 22 kilometres north to south. Being a fresh water lake, there are plenty of birds, with some conservation wetlands stretching around the site. As well as for the birds, it's also a lifeforce for many of the local Shan people who fish, wash and live in houses protruding from the water on slits around the lake.
Many of the sights are touristy but interesting nonetheless. Our first stop was a weaving factory, where they produce fabric from the lotus flower. If you break and separate the stalk of the lotus plant, fine silk-like
threads emerge. The fabric is tough, much like hemp. Although not producing the thread itself on site, they were weaving beautiful silk, lotus and cotton fabrics for sewing into scarves and longyis, the national dress skirt worm by both men and women. So, of course, I have a new scarf for my collection. :) Mum, I would love to take you to these fabric makers in Asia one day - you would love to see it I know.Besides the weaving factory, we also visited cheroot, boat-making and silversmith outlets. Most of these places are more like show-rooms than working factories. The cheroot place in particular was very touristy, with eight girls arranged in two lines like a choir, quite different from the proper factory I saw near Bago (see previous post).
The highlight for me for the day was a spot called Indein, on the west side of the lake. It's not on the general tourist boat agenda, but we made a special stop. Dotted around this village are more than 1000 stupas, some which date back more than 2000 years. Amazingly, these stupas aren't protected or even cordoned off from the rest of the small village. People live near them and around them, and we wandered through backlanes and tilled fields on our own to get to some of them. One hillside spot was so magical I expected a snake to slither out and start speaking to me in tongues. The main pagoda is home to more than 1000 beautiful stupas in itself. Some date back centuries, and others are still being built today. One of my companions scoffed at the fact that some of the stupas are not old, but I loved the fact that this ancient site is still in use by the locals, evolving and growing like a living organism.
BTW, I leave Inlay tomorrow evening, heading for Mandalay. Big city hopefully equals cheaper internet. It's 3000 kyat here, 10 times as much as in Yangon. But it's good to be in touch.
Pics posted! Village life on the lake; Indein 2000 year-old temples; me in longboat; sunset Inlay-style.
x
Tuesday 5 June 2007
King of the road to a soy chai latte
I've well and truely crossed the one week mark in Myanmar (as now rolls off the tongue rather than the English 'Burma' ) and I think I've negotiated every kind of transportation available to 'foreigners' in the country. From the cycle trikshaw, where a poor soul carries either one or two back-to-back passengers, pillion-style through the crazy heat, to hitching a lift in a truck carrying black-market fuel to the outskirts of the country, it's been done. I've taken local buses between towns which means a 70 kilometer journey from Kalaw to the Pindaya caves (8094 buddhas in some limestone caves) took 12 hours there and back. The journey to Pindaya cost US$1 to get there, with 22 people and their luggage stuffed into the tray of a Hilux ute, with another 10 standing on the roof for the 1 1/2 hour journey. On the way back (there were no more buses after noon) it cost us US$10 to hire motos with drivers to get most of the way back, followed by hitching a lift with the truck between the last two towns.
To assure you mum, it's safe here. There aren't too many travellers but there are enough to get by with. I travelled with the intrepid Belgians (sic?) for a couple of days - Golden Rock and Bago - making some friends that are welcoming us to their home near Gent anytime we choose. Bring on Belgium pancakes, I say.
After Bago, I made it to Kalaw for some trekking in the hills. The ride took 16 hours via big bus. When it comes to the roads, size matters in Myanmar and buses are at the top of the food chain. The big bus journeys are characterised by a soundtrack of funny, terrible karaoke videos and the bus drivers honking their way through the towns. On the three hour bus ride from Bago to Kalaw, we heard a one music video no less than eight times. They also use their horn to tell people (scooters, bikes, pedestrials, minivans, trucks - anyone smaller) to get out of their way, and then to thank them for getting out of their way. Noise is a constant.
Kalaw was an interesting, but sonambulous place. The LP describes it as one of the most backpacker-friendly towns in Myanmar, but other than a couple of guesthouses and trekking guides, I didn't see any evidence of this. No internet (again). US$5 a minute to make an international phone call. But there were many Nepalese people in the area, which was curious and meant great food plus an authentic soy chai latte. Most of the 150 Nepalese families in the town are descendants of the gurkhas who came to Myanmar with the Allied Forces to fight off the Japanese during the Second World War. Seeing an oppurtunity in the fertility of the planes, many stayed behind of their own will to farm the land, not being provided (even today) with any assistance or land from the British or now, the Burmese. These Nepalese speak four languages - Nepalese and Hindi at home, plus Burmese, English and often the languages of those Burmese tribes that live in the surrounding hills. It puts us Aussies to shame!
Yesterday and today we went trekking to see some of these tribes - Palaung, Danu and Tangu-Yo people that live in the surrounding hills. Fortunately for them, agriculture and a little tourism (not now) thanks to their proximity to Kalaw is bringing more wealth to them. The downside is that it seemed to me that they were not living so much their tribal ways, even as much as that of the displaced (Burmese) Lahu and Karen tribes I visited in northern thailand last year.
Global warming is another concern that is noticable in this cooler, higher area. There are cobras around that have never been seen before. They can grow mangos now. Malaria is more commonplace thanks to the greater number of mosquitos.
On finishing the trek, a kiwi, english lass (current travel companions) and me headed to Inle Lake this evening, which is much more used to seeing tourists. I'm staying at the 'Little Inn' for the next couple of nights at least.
So I'm well and safe. Sending happy birthday messages to Miss Wong. You must be a whole 23 darling - may you have an awesome birthday and year.
Love to all. Cazx
PS: Richie, I think there is a photocopied version of the Myanmar LP in the bookshelf in the hallway. That might give a bit of insight into where I am, with you in Soi Chai Lattes. xx
To assure you mum, it's safe here. There aren't too many travellers but there are enough to get by with. I travelled with the intrepid Belgians (sic?) for a couple of days - Golden Rock and Bago - making some friends that are welcoming us to their home near Gent anytime we choose. Bring on Belgium pancakes, I say.
After Bago, I made it to Kalaw for some trekking in the hills. The ride took 16 hours via big bus. When it comes to the roads, size matters in Myanmar and buses are at the top of the food chain. The big bus journeys are characterised by a soundtrack of funny, terrible karaoke videos and the bus drivers honking their way through the towns. On the three hour bus ride from Bago to Kalaw, we heard a one music video no less than eight times. They also use their horn to tell people (scooters, bikes, pedestrials, minivans, trucks - anyone smaller) to get out of their way, and then to thank them for getting out of their way. Noise is a constant.
Kalaw was an interesting, but sonambulous place. The LP describes it as one of the most backpacker-friendly towns in Myanmar, but other than a couple of guesthouses and trekking guides, I didn't see any evidence of this. No internet (again). US$5 a minute to make an international phone call. But there were many Nepalese people in the area, which was curious and meant great food plus an authentic soy chai latte. Most of the 150 Nepalese families in the town are descendants of the gurkhas who came to Myanmar with the Allied Forces to fight off the Japanese during the Second World War. Seeing an oppurtunity in the fertility of the planes, many stayed behind of their own will to farm the land, not being provided (even today) with any assistance or land from the British or now, the Burmese. These Nepalese speak four languages - Nepalese and Hindi at home, plus Burmese, English and often the languages of those Burmese tribes that live in the surrounding hills. It puts us Aussies to shame!
Yesterday and today we went trekking to see some of these tribes - Palaung, Danu and Tangu-Yo people that live in the surrounding hills. Fortunately for them, agriculture and a little tourism (not now) thanks to their proximity to Kalaw is bringing more wealth to them. The downside is that it seemed to me that they were not living so much their tribal ways, even as much as that of the displaced (Burmese) Lahu and Karen tribes I visited in northern thailand last year.
Global warming is another concern that is noticable in this cooler, higher area. There are cobras around that have never been seen before. They can grow mangos now. Malaria is more commonplace thanks to the greater number of mosquitos.
On finishing the trek, a kiwi, english lass (current travel companions) and me headed to Inle Lake this evening, which is much more used to seeing tourists. I'm staying at the 'Little Inn' for the next couple of nights at least.
So I'm well and safe. Sending happy birthday messages to Miss Wong. You must be a whole 23 darling - may you have an awesome birthday and year.
Love to all. Cazx
PS: Richie, I think there is a photocopied version of the Myanmar LP in the bookshelf in the hallway. That might give a bit of insight into where I am, with you in Soi Chai Lattes. xx
Saturday 2 June 2007
Bustling Bago
So out of Yangon and into the bustle of the real Burma. It feels good. After umming and ahhing, I made the decision to come to Bago, site of two reclining Buddhas and many others in between. It's certainly rates a mention in the Lonely Planet, but it being the off season, there aren't many of us foreigners around.
Neither English, nor hospitality, is scarce in this country, and as soon as I was off the bus, me and backpack were on the back of a scooter for an afternoon of touring the buddhist sites in the vicinity. There are 42 monasteries or monuments in Bago. Our first stop was a bustling study monastery, home to more than 1200 monks who study for 20 years within its grounds. It was something special to stand in a room packed with monks chanting their studies.
Following the monastery, we visited another seven sites, including two reclining buddhas, one of which was first built more than a century ago, the other of which is only four years old.
Perhaps the highlight of the afternoon though, was a cheroot factory. More a two story house in a back lane, about 100 women work from 7am until 7pm packing cigars for the local market. They get one kyat for one cigar, which is about one cent, and depending on their speed, they'll get through 1000 - 1200 in a day. So that's a dollar in earnings a day.
Despite the hard work, they were full of spirit and laughter. One girl asked me if I had a boyfriend, so Richie, your picture got passed around more than 50 hands to which there was lots of exclamations of 'chore', handsome. :) I managed to find Miles a bride too - they were all keen!
Last night I spent the night at Kinpun, about three hours west of Bago. After some waiting for the bus, we luckly bribed a bus full of Thai tourists to take us up to the heralded golden rock yesterday. It was quite a sight and indeed is perched on the mountainside by a hair's breadth.
So I've found a couple of Belguim friends who quote 'lekka' at every meal, Ma. We heading north on the bus very shortly, me to Kalaw for some hopeful trekking (depending on the leaches) and them to Inlay Lake, which is not so far. Hopefully I'll write again from one of them.
PS. Have a super last day at work babe. Thinking of you, pink pictures and pink presents on the fridge. xxx
Neither English, nor hospitality, is scarce in this country, and as soon as I was off the bus, me and backpack were on the back of a scooter for an afternoon of touring the buddhist sites in the vicinity. There are 42 monasteries or monuments in Bago. Our first stop was a bustling study monastery, home to more than 1200 monks who study for 20 years within its grounds. It was something special to stand in a room packed with monks chanting their studies.
Following the monastery, we visited another seven sites, including two reclining buddhas, one of which was first built more than a century ago, the other of which is only four years old.
Perhaps the highlight of the afternoon though, was a cheroot factory. More a two story house in a back lane, about 100 women work from 7am until 7pm packing cigars for the local market. They get one kyat for one cigar, which is about one cent, and depending on their speed, they'll get through 1000 - 1200 in a day. So that's a dollar in earnings a day.
Despite the hard work, they were full of spirit and laughter. One girl asked me if I had a boyfriend, so Richie, your picture got passed around more than 50 hands to which there was lots of exclamations of 'chore', handsome. :) I managed to find Miles a bride too - they were all keen!
Last night I spent the night at Kinpun, about three hours west of Bago. After some waiting for the bus, we luckly bribed a bus full of Thai tourists to take us up to the heralded golden rock yesterday. It was quite a sight and indeed is perched on the mountainside by a hair's breadth.
So I've found a couple of Belguim friends who quote 'lekka' at every meal, Ma. We heading north on the bus very shortly, me to Kalaw for some hopeful trekking (depending on the leaches) and them to Inlay Lake, which is not so far. Hopefully I'll write again from one of them.
PS. Have a super last day at work babe. Thinking of you, pink pictures and pink presents on the fridge. xxx
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