Right on time, Naing Naing arrived at the Hotel @ Tharabar
gate to take us to the airport. The morning was a struggle as I was feeling a
bit funny in the tummy (again), and hadn’t slept well. Naing Naing had his
brother with him, who was part share holder of the vehicle, and he was driving.
This allowed Naing Naing to chat with us during the short drive, asking us to
recommend other travellers to hire him and the car when they came to Bagan. He
apologised profusely for not having any professional business cards, but handed
over a carefully cut piece of paper with painstakingly neat handwriting with
his name, phone number and email address.
Interestingly, his brother drive the car pretty much at a
normal speed on the asphalt road, whereas Naing Naing had driven it at crawling
speed for the most part of the previous day. A little way down the road they
had a heated ‘conversation’ where it was obvious that he didn’t agree with how
his brother was driving the car. His brother went quiet and never took his eyes
from the road after that exchange. In the back seat, J and I smirked, trying
not to laugh out loud.
Unloading our bags, Naing Naing formally shook my hand. With
a very serious look on his face, and a deeply sincere voice, he told me without
an ounce of doubt that we would meet again. “Maybe not so soon, maybe not here,
but for sure you will meet me again”. It was so touching. I truly hoped I would
return to Bagan soon, as I didn’t want to leave.
Bagan airport had a little café pumping out western-style
lattes and cappuccinos. J quickly ordered one as I browsed the airport shops
where I found my must have item – a fridge magnet (you should see my fridge!).
With an on-time departure, much like the previous one, we arrived in Mandalay
after a very short flight. Much to our amusement, the airplane was truly an air
bus. When we had boarded, we simply sat in any empty seat that had been vacated when the plane had arrived in Bagan.
Mandalay airport was large and modern. Our bags even arrived
for our collection on baggage carousels. Airside, it could have been any
airport in Australia with polished floors and air-conditioning. Then, as soon
as you exit into the arrivals hall, you’re reminded you’re in SE Asia. A dozen
or more drivers quickly surrounded us jockeying for position hoping to secure a
fare. More than one physically grabbed my bag and tried to force me to follow
him. Our normally polite “No thank yous” were a little more forceful than
usual.
I made a bee line to the taxi desk where we paid 4000 kyats
each for the transfer into Mandalay. A well travelled, beat up old mini van
took us that we had to ourselves. One thing I hadn’t been prepared for is
exactly how far out the airport was from the city. Sure, most western airports
are a little way from the cities they serve. But it took half an hour to hit
the outskirts or the city, after travelling along a mostly deserted, dual lane,
divided highway. Clearly the town planners are planning well ahead.
Yangon traffic had been heavy. But Mandalay’s traffic was
perhaps worse. To travel the last few kilometres to our hotel, Mandalay City
Hotel, it took as much time as it had taken to get into the city. Pulling into
a narrow driveway from the bumper-to-bumper traffic, we were surprised by how
peaceful it was inside. Unfortunately, there was a power black out so our room
was quite warm without airconditiong, but still significantly cooler than the
dry dusty heat outside.
Feeling tired and queasy, I took it easy, taking some time
to write a few postcards, while J stretched his legs and went for a wonder. I
asked him to bring me back a present (thinking he’d buy a drink or something).
However, he arrived empty handed, informing me that he only saw ball-bearing
stores and mechanical workshops around the block he had walked.
Rested and feeling recovered, we headed off to have lunch at
‘BBB’ restaurant. It also gave us a chance to get our bearings and see the city
a little. Judging by the map, it was five or six blocks along and didn’t seem
far. However the baking sun, coupled with the constant exhaust fumes from the
steady stream of traffic, the short distance felt like miles. The restaurant
served mostly western food at mildly expensive prices. Lined with wood
panelling, and prints of American Indian chiefs hanging on the walls, it sort of
felt like a ski lodge. But the cool juice and comfortable air-conditioning were
exactly what we needed.
Wondering back to the hotel, we enjoyed observing local
street life. Some corners had motorcycle stands, calling to us and shouting
their fares to take us anywhere. A few taxi drivers approached us on the street
with offers of half or full day’s sightseeing. Tempting as it was to jump in, J
and I made our way back the hotel, grabbing an ice-cream from one of the street
vendors along the way. We wanted to review a map and decide where we wanted to
go.
At the entrance to the hotel were a few taxis. A driver quickly
approached, offering to take us to see some of the local attractions for 10,000
kyats. Softly spoken, Naung Naung wore a constant smile as he drive us through
the thick traffic. With a few hours before the dark, we asked his advice for
what to see before heading up to Mandalay hill to see the sun go down. He
suggested the palace, the walls and moat of which we had seen during our walk.
Not that I was too keen to see it, but the $10 ‘Mandalay Archaeological Zone’
ticket included it, so why not. I had read about the original palace in Amitav
Ghosh’s historical novel ‘The Glass Palace’ years ago, so I had some interest. At
the ticket booth, we realised we hadn’t brought any US dollars with us, so
tried to pay with kyats, but to no avail. Oh well, that’s the end of that story
for the day.
Undeterred, Naung Naung said that maybe the other sights may
not have anyone asking for tickets given it was late in the day and off season.
It was only a short distance to Atumashi Kyaung, a beautiful teak monastery, which
I was keen to see. But as we pulled up, we could see the entrance was manned.
Nevertheless, we got out to stretch (i.e. J to have a cigarette with Naung
Naung), while I took a few shots of the intricate carvings of the building through
the fence.
Onwards to try the next sight, we drove another minute
further along to Mahan Lokamarazien Kuthodaw Paya, the world’s biggest book.
Inscribing the Buddhist canon, the Tripitaka, the text is carved into 729 marble
slabs that are housed in identical little temples called Dama Cetis. Relatively
young, it took eight years to build from 1860-1868. Lucky for us, there was
no-one looking for tickets and we walked in the tiled entrance terrace with
golden late afternoon sunlight streaming in the open sides. A scale model encased
in a glass box showed the layout of the 13 acre site, which gave us a wonderful
impression of the scale of the place that is difficult to grasp on the ground.
Locals strolled in for late prayers as we approached the
central golden stupa. I took a few side detours to check out some of the
white-washed temples along the way. Surrounding the stupa, the concrete square
held stalls, most of them closed, but a few with tapestries and paintings
sprawled out on the ground. The only other foreigner in the complex was
haggling with a stall owner, offering to pay 10000 kyats for three small woven
pieces, instead of 10000 kyats each. It was obvious the seller was not happy
and tried to strike a bargain with the blonde-haired man, but he was adamant,
claiming he could buy them cheaper elsewhere. The exchange actually became a
bit heated. As another foreigner watching
on, I felt very embarrassed by the man’s blatant attempt to rip the stall
holder off. 
A small girl was playing in an old cart while an older woman
kept an eye on her while she tended to the stitch-work on her lap. Another
woman asked if I wanted to buy something. Admittedly, I hadn’t seen the type of
handiwork anywhere during my travels and they were gorgeous. Some were on
velvets, others on canvas. I casually asked how much they were and was told
that they varied in price according to their size. Conscience of the scene
continuing to the side (i.e. the haggling), I took a few photos and spoke a few
words to the little girl. Once the other traveller had left empty handed (which
I was kind-of pleased to see), I asked about a large velvet embroidered piece
complete with pieces of jade-like stones surrounding the central elephant
figure.
Originally, when the prices were explained, the larger
pieces were in the 60000-100000 kyats range. Amongst them were many black
velvet ones, but there was only one royal blue piece that was one of the
largest on display. J instantly told me that it was too big and heavy, asking
how I thought I’d be able to pack it. Immediately, the ladies found smaller
pieces, and a few other blue ones. But none were as nice. “45000 kyats” offered
the first woman who was trying to make a sale to the other guy. They both
showed me how it could be folded smaller to git into a bag. Taking it, I felt
how heavy it was, starting to think twice about hauling it back on the flights
home. “OK, 40000”, came the second offer. It wasn’t about price, rather the
ability to get it back. 
Then it hit me; we could buy another bag to carry it on
board that would not exceed our luggage limits. Still not convinced, J tried to
say it was simply too big and wondered off. “You like, you have. Ok, ok 35000”.
How could I resist. I was prepared to pay 40000, and gave it happily. Poor J
had to carry it around as we left the central square and explored the many rows
of identical shrines. In the late sunlight, we amused ourselves as we walked up
and down the rows of white-washed shelters.
Next door was the Sandamuni Paya, which was built as an
extension to Kuthodaw with 1774 marble slabs carved with the commentaries on
the Tripitaka. Different, they were housed in little white stupas and had a
raised central stupa that provided a viewing platform to the surrounding
grounds. A group of four young novices met us as we approached the main temple.
Giggling, they said a few hellos and hurried off to play among the rows and
columns. Once more, we were the only non-locals here and again felt so happy to
have chosen to come to Myanmar outside the peak season, despite the oppressive
heat.
By the time we returned to our driver, the sun was sinking
closer to the horizon. He was surprised at how much time we had spent in the
pagodas. J informed him of how coo-coo I was with photos before we set off
driving up the hill. Many guidebooks say you can walk up, with a few stupas and
temples to see along the way. In this heat though, I think you’d have to be
mad! Even though it was late in the day, I’d say the temperature was still
hovering in the high 30’s.
Parking near the entrance, Naung Naung pointed the way to
get to the top and to take our time. Grabbing my tripod case, I told him we’d
stay till the sun was down. Inside the entrance building was a series of
escalators, not unlike what you’d find in any shopping mall. J and I jumped on
to first one, totally flabbergasted by the sight of the multi-story, motorised
stairways that was so completely unexpected.
At the top, a temple covered in glass, mosaic tiles took centre-piece
with the wide terrace encircling it, affording stunning 360 degree views. Stalls
sold drinks and ice-creams. Local families sat in shady places picnicking.
Monks wondered around the temple occasionally bowing and chanting. And a few
dozen tourists clicked away their cameras (me among them) at the magnificent
sight of the surrounding hills and the mighty Irrawaddy river in the distance.
It was here that one of the highlights of our trip to
Myanmar happened. Walking around the hill were groups of local students with
their tutors, some high school aged, some at university level, all learning
English (and other languages); all wanting to practise with native speakers.
There were also a few monks, also hoping to meet foreigners to speak to and
practise with. A teacher would approach you, asking where you were from and
asking if you would be able to spare some time to talk with them. Then the
group of two or three students would come over and chat. Many other tourists
were also speaking with these students, enjoying meeting them and sharing as
well.
J and I spoke to a number of young adults and teenagers.
Mostly about where we were from, the weather, work and family. Always with much
smiling and many laughs. Here we were watching a lovely sunset over a
spectacular view, but we were enjoying having a chat with the locals. Not that
I didn’t take a heap of photos. By the time we returned to the car, it was
pretty much dark and Naung Naung was worried that we had go lost.
Farewelling our patient driver, we made plans to meet up tomorrow
for a day’s touring to the usual out-of-town places around Mandalay. Time for a
quick beer before heading out to find dinner. A recommended place was right
around the corner, a chapatti stand. We knew we were near by the steady stream
of motorbikes arriving and departing. Almost every table was full. J and I
jumped to grab a table as the previous group departed. Many travellers are wary
of street food (as I am too but only because of not knowing whether the dishes
contain meat), but honestly, it may be some of the best food you’ll ever get.
Ordering chapattis, accompaniments and a chicken briyani for
J, we relaxed in the cooler evening air watching the night’s comings and
goings. And the food was exceptional. In fact, J had never had a better briyani.
Filling up on freshly grilled hot bread and delectable sauces and rice, we were
almost embarrassed to pay less than 5000 kyats for our meals – including soft
drinks. Does it get much better than that!
Before finishing our night, we wondered toward the Zeigyo
market, where there was a night market. Anyone who has been to Phuket, Phnom Phen or
maybe even Luang Prabang would think a night market was mostly there for us tourists,
but not this one. Yes there was lots to buy, but it was set up for mostly local
trade. J and I walked up and down the two lines of stalls, amusing ourselves
with the Anglicized names on the labels (particularly the underwear). A few
stalls had dozens of books spread out on the ground, many old English school
books and novels. So now I know where my 1970’s chemistry book went. And there
were many stands selling longyis for both men and women. Lucky for me, there
were also plenty of bags, exactly what I needed for my recent purchase. In
fact, I chose a genuine, Ferrari bag, that was blue… Ferraris are often blue,
right? Anyway, it was the perfect size and only 5,00 kyats. Surely for that
price it was a bona fide Ferrari licensed article?! Anyway I was very happy
with it and J could only shake his head as I explained how much extra room we
now had for further shopping…
On the way back to the hotel, we walked down another dark
street that had some lights and what appeared to be other market stalls. There
were also a few local restaurants selling food and drinks. Upon approaching the
stalls, we found that they were selling condoms; lots of different colours and
packaging. Not only that, there were sort-of posters displayed like what you’d
find in a doctor’s surgery with health advise about how to use them and their
benefits with cartoon characters depicting the information. Concerningly, the
characters appeared to be children. I’m sure the message got across.
Back at the hotel, we enjoyed a beer in the lobby bar. A
tour group had just arrived with a few Aussies who we chatted with, recounting
stories of our journey through Myanmar so far. They told us the latest on the
home front including the cricket scores etc. Sharing a final beer, J and I
mused over the wonderful day, and my outstanding purchases (haha), agreeing
that though we had been apprehensive about visiting Mandalay (due to many
reports saying it was missable), we really liked the city and looked forward to
our next day’s explorations.
-K
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