Inle lin kin boy buffalo

Today I wish to rely mainly on fate and chance, as I often do when I travel. I fill the daily backpack with snacks and fruit from the market and I walk towards the distant village of Inthein, in the south-western side of the lake. I want to be positive and hope to reach it, but I am not so sure since the roads marked on my map are not very clear. After only a 10-minute walk on a peaceful country road, I raise my hand to hitchhike and stop a young man on a moped that has seen better times; he accepts to give me a ride without much fuss and takes me all the way to the hot springs where I was yesterday. From here I start walking again, with the lake and the countryside to my left, and the mountains topped with white clouds to my right.

After a 5-minute walk during which I absorb the surrounding beauty, another young man on a motorbike stops without even the need of raising my thumb. He is well-dressed; his English is poor, but we somehow understand each other and he invites me to get on his new vehicle; he looks so proud of it! He continues to turn towards me and talk while driving; the scooter lifts a tremendous amount of dust that enters in my throat, plus I do not understand anything of what he says. When he realizes that that my intention is to reach Inthein, he stops the bike and bursts out in a non-offensive laughter. He tries to explain that there are at least another 15 miles of dusty road and no public transport to get there. I tell him it does not matter, not to worry, and I motion him to continue the drive. We pass the village of Kaung Daing and finally arrive at the entrance of his village, Kin Lin. He stops at the junction with the main road, where I get off the bike and thank him. He gives me a bewildered look, he tells me he is so sorry that I do not follow him to his village where I could meet his family, and that I do not take his advice not to continue on my quest. He looks at me getting far without moving from the point where he stopped, until I lose sight of him.

I arrive in the proximity of a hotel where I notice a van that is downloading merchandise for the restaurant. I walk in and try to explain myself to the driver and to the owner. It turns out that the truck goes precisely to Inthein to deliver food and drinks! They whisper to each other and shake their heads a little. On the one hand they would like to help, but from what I understand, the young man does not want to take the responsibility to take a foreigner with him. In addition, the owner of the restaurant explains in an English barely understandable that the sky threatens serious rain, and if it does rain, this road would become so muddy that it would be impossible for the boy to get back with his heavy vehicle. I would then be stuck with him, something that does not sit well with the young guy. I completely understand the situation and I do not want to embarrass them any more than I already have. I go out to observe the sky: big, menacing blacks clouds are approaching from all directions. I decide against my will, also given the time of the day, to abandon the mission, and I backtrack.

Inle lin kin monk

Back in Lin Kin, I sit in a teahouse to relax and drink tea Le Peyé (name that locals give to black tea) while I socialize with the owners, their entire family watching me curiously. On the road, a boy riding a buffalo that sports big horns and an enormous dangling penis passes in front of my table. The little boy is about 10 years old and already has the air of an adolescent peasant, with his flip-flops, a hat bigger than his head and a traditional Burmese pouch strapped to his shoulder. We do not know which one of us looks at each other with more curiosity. All around me, glimpses of rural life: cultivated fields, hills planted with fruit trees, nice shacks made ​​of bamboo and roofed with iron sheets. In front of the teahouse I catch a glimpse of the arched entrance of a Buddhist temple. I pay the tea, say goodbye to the friendly family and cross the street.

In the temple courtyard I entertain families of a tribe wearing detailed and colorful clothes and headgears; I take pictures of the kids, which I show them in the small screen of my Canon: they are appalled. Too bad I do not have with me a Polaroid camera that can print pictures on the spot. Further on, a group of young monks in orange robes plays animatedly by rotating rudimentary spinning tops carved out of wood with the help of a rope. Upon my attempt to take a picture of the playground, they drop everything and vanish in a hurry, with worried looks; some, in particular the little ones, have scared expressions and hide inside the temple building, refusing to come out again. The ones on their teens back out from behind the huge trunk of a giant tree where they had taken refuge, look at me with little trust and set back to play, but as soon as I motion to bring the Canon to my eye to shoot a picture, off they vanish again. No pictures – mutters one of them in English. I respect their wish and head to the inside of the temple, where there are people eating, praying and drinking tea. I make friends with those most likely to socialize, I snap some photos of a few young monks and I head back to the main road. I really want to avoid the downpour that is on the way.

I love hitchhiking. Another youngster with nonexistent English takes me to the intersection for Nyaungshwe, and after a few minutes an overweight man on a rickety bike stops to assist. I’m not very confident with this ride, but the clouds are getting closer and closer and I know that it will rain soon, it is just a matter of time. I get on and he leaves; my legs are dangling as there are no passenger footrests, and this is a difficult task along a route where the fat man averages 10 chilometers per hour and seems to want to hit all of the existing holes. Nonetheless, he sports a blissful smile, like a huge contemporary Buddha. We arrive in Nyaungshwe safe and sound, and as the protocol wants, I thank him and he looks so pleased to have been able to help me.

Inle monks and flip flops 2

It was a cheerful trip that gave me the opportunity to mingle with the locals, and I found out that most speak little or no English, that they go out of their ways to help you, and that in them you often notice the desire to confront with foreigners. It is mid-afternoon. I stop at a little restaurant located in a side street, where I eat a mango salad accompanied by a substantial banana lassi drink, as I observe the sky downloading a tropical downpour that in just 15 minutes soaks the village dusty roads.

At the port, the comings and goings of wooden boats that sail the channel is as intense as usual. The sun gains space between the black clouds and hits the west slopes of the mountains. The Inle lake is proving to be a really nice place, a must-visit in a trip to Myanmar. Too bad it will soon be time for me to leave.

READ ALSO PART 1 http://asianitinerary.com/inle-lake-trip-part-1/

READ ALSO PART 2 http://asianitinerary.com/inle-lake-by-bicycle-around-the-lake-part-2/

The post INLE LAKE – HITCHHIKING – PART 3 appeared first on Asian Itinerary.

Inle phaung daw oo paya

Despite being a tourist town, Nyaungshwe is still the main trading hub for the local villages, as well as the departure point for craft and produce that from the lake get delivered to the rest of the country. Motorized long boats take visitors to tribal villages made of stilt houses, farms and floating gardens, pagodas and floating silk and craft workshops. Most of the buildings on the lake shores are built with stilts on water, and activities are carried out in small rowing boats or long boats that skitter along the canals, carrying people and goods.

The wish to live these situations from near motivates us to rent bicycles from the guesthouse. We ride them with the ardor of kids who have been given a new gift, heading south in search of situations. As soon as we leave the village and cross the bridge over the canal, the chaos of the riverfront disappears, giving way to the peaceful countryside: rice fields, huge ponds populated by lush lotus plants in bloom, buffaloes taking a bath heedless of human presence, farmers who work the land and smile at our slow passage. Not far away, the mountains begin to be lit by a weak morning sun that is becoming more and more intense.

Tractors and motorbikes that transit on the dirt road carelessly raise huge clouds of dust. After about an hour ride we reach Hu Pin Hot Springs in the Intha village of Kaung Daing, known for the production of tofu from yellow beans instead of green. There, we allow ourselves a series of hot and relaxing baths. The hot water comes from a natural source upstream that is diverted into three different tanks downstream, where it is mixed with cold water. The water in the first tank is 70 degrees centigrade – unbearable -, it then becomes quite hot, 50 degrees, in the second tank, only to get to an acceptable 40 degrees in the third tank. It is early and we are the first to enter the hot springs compound; we enjoy the morning stillness and restore bones and muscles tired from cycling. We eat a satisfying meal of lake fish at the hot springs’ restaurant on stilts, and we then start looking for a boat pier on the west side of the lake, direction south.

After a number of negotiations, some characterized by heated discussions on price and destination first with a couple of farmers, then with a group of young people who are loading the boat with huge burlap sacks full of oranges, and finally, a boatman who was leaving empty grant us a ride to the Phaung Dew Oo Paya temple. Between us and the bikes, in a flash we fill the boat. The boatman tells us that it is late and that his is a one-way trip. We do not worry that much and we enjoy the scenic boat journey.

The ride is interesting to say the least; we pass and overcome boats packed with families and large groups of people from the surrounding villages heading to the temple for the annual festival. Today is a special day for Phaung Dew Oo Paya, which is the most important sacred place in the state of South Shan. Inside its multi-roofed pagoda, this colorful temple houses four ancient Buddha images, to which the faithful apply thin gold leaves that over the years have turned these images into amorphous golden masses. Once a year these images, which are normally kept on display in a pavilion inside the pagoda, are taken by a decorated barge on an around-the-lake ceremony.

Upon arrival, under many curious eyes we unload the bikes, lock them to an electricity post in the temple square and begin to enjoy the moment. We missed the main ceremony, but we can still experience part of the festival. There are several local families, some come from nearby villages, others from the surrounding hills. They feature flamboyant clothes and costumes, stones necklaces, amulets, and they bring offerings of food, beverages and golden leaves for the Buddhas. Groups of cheerful youngsters wear traditional peasants clothes and dance and sing, promoting recycling, environmental protection and the importance of education to young people. Improvised stalls sell local food like fried rice, roti, curry and various sweets, as well as balloons and kites for children, and various miniature replicas of relics and of the main pagoda for visitors who wish to take home a souvenir.

We visit the surrounding area and the pagoda interior, where the gilded blobs have been returned after the boat ride around the lake. A walk leads us to the next village where local merchants sell souvenirs of all kinds. On the way back to the pagoda, it is getting dark fast; the sellers withdraw their goods, the pagoda is locked and there is a confusion of people who take boats to go back home. It is immediately evident that it will be hard to find a ride: our bicycles are bulky and they cannot be loaded on boats crammed with people. Moreover, most of those we talk to, articulating as well as we can the name of our destination, Nyaungshwe, try to tell us that they are directed towards other areas. Apparently, the locals do not like to navigate in the dark, and Nyaungshwe is an hour by boat from here. We split to have more chances and in the end, when we are about to give up the search and find a place to sleep in the area, we manage to snatch a yes from a boatman who would take us across the lake, to a village on the east side called Thale -U. I look at my map: there are at least 10 kilometers from Thale -U to Nyaungshwe, something doable if it were not for the pitch darkness and for the fact that we do not know what kind of road we will find. No one in the area speaks English so we rely on fate; we accept the risk and embrace the adventure.

The trip on the lake is mesmerizing: we sail in a silence broken only by the engine of our boat, while the sky is now a huge dark expanse that blends in with the water’s edge of the lake, also black . A few dim lights warn us of villages along the water on the east coast. The boatman drives his primitive vessel and watches us with suspicion. We arrive at a dilapidated bamboo and wood dock on stilts, surrounded and almost entirely invaded by aquatic plants and grasses; we struggle to unload the bicycles on the boardwalk, then pay the ride and thank the boatman, who reverses the boat and leaves us in a movie-like situation. A few stars in the sky, a dog barking in the distance and nothing else. The trail is in front of us, but we do not see it. We proceed cautiously for a few meters, trying to avoid frequent potholes and ruts in the road; how long will we be able to hold at this pace? Perhaps it was not a brilliant idea, it would have been better to spend the night back at the village.

We refuse to get discouraged and after about ten minutes at a steady but slow pace, we come across a house that also functions as a groceries and necessities shop. I make my way in under the shocked look of the owners, a family of farmers very surprised to see a stranger in a bicycle at that time on that path. I purchase a torch, one of those used by speleologists with a rubber band to wear it around the head, along with a blister of batteries. It turns out to be our salvation! We pedal what seems to be a long time in the pitch dark, the only dim light of the made-in-China torch to illuminate our way. The path is uneven, at times made ​​of ups and downs heavy for our legs that have to push old-fashioned bikes with flawed gears.

Along the way, we meet some sporadic scooters and some people who walk in the vicinity of hamlets that comprise a few houses made of wood, bamboo and straw; they all look at us appalled. Not a car, not a bike. The path occasionally becomes a paved road that widens until it ends and returns to be a path, in a succession that seems endless. After more than an hour we pass a couple of luxury hotels built on the banks of the river. We take the opportunity to ask passers-by if the road is the right one, an awkward question as there cannot be other roads. It is more to feel good, to sense that we are moving on in this venture: at first we thought it hard to accomplish, but we are now certain to succeed.

An unexpected enemy comes in the form of a cold air that becomes more and more unbearable. We do not wear suitable clothes, and even though we warm up by cycling, fatigue often causes us to slow down the ride. We reach a shack that serves as a bar-restaurant and we allow for a break, a hot tea and a traditional cigarillo cheroots while we rest legs and bones. Alas we do not know that we still have an hour of pedaling before we reach the destination. We finally arrive late in the evening, exhausted but happy to have lived this adventure. We treat ourselves to dinner at a Nepalese restaurant, where we arrive 10 minutes before closing time, and we comfort ourselves with good memories of the day and with a hot and spicy Masala Tea. It’s cool on the streets of Nyaungshwe, we will sleep well tonight…

Check out info on http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hpaung_Daw_U_Pagoda

Read Part 1: http://asianitinerary.asia/inle-lake-trip-part-1/ – and Part 3: http://asianitinerary.asia/inle-lake-hitchhiking-part-3/

The post INLE LAKE – BY BICYCLE AROUND THE LAKE PART 2 appeared first on Asian Itinerary.

Inle Lake, located strategically in the heart of Myanmar’s Shan State, is a shore-less expanse of water and marshes 20km long and 10km wide, sitting like a gigantic puddle on a carpet of greenery with reed and hyacinth beds that get denser as they are nearer the shore.

PART 1

Inle house on stilts reflection

The bus from Mandalay gets me to my destination quite early on a cool morning. At 2.30 I am left at the intersection to Nyaungshwe, still far from the lake. I reach the village with a moto-rickshaw, sharing the cold 10km ride with a family of locals and a group of monks that only wear the monk’s outfit: flip flop and orange robe; they look not bothered as a cold wind hits their face and their bare feet, while I try to cover my neck and head with jumper, scarf and bonnet. Entering the Inle Lake area costs to tourists a 5$ government fee, which I pay to a sleepy government official at the entrance of Nyaungshwe. The moto-rickshaw drops me in the center of the village; it is pitch-dark, and there is not a single soul around.

Once a sleeping village, home until the 1960s of the last Shan shy lord, Nyaungshwe, located at the north end of the lake and next to the main canal leading to the lake, is now a bustling center for travelers, with guest houses, restaurants and tour agencies. I take a walk along the grid of roads only to find entrances of guest houses with the sign FULL hanging from locked gates. Finally I find an open house where three friends are watching a European football match live. They are so nice and let me park my rucksacks in the house and lend me a bicycle with which I start the search for a place to sleep.

Inle standing boatman

During the exploration ride I cover at least half of the village, but the result does not change: guest houses and hotels closed and showing a FULL sign. It is with a bit of luck that I address a man that watering the plants in the garden of a guest house on the banks of the canal, whom assures me that at 9 am one of the room gets vacated and that he is willing to give it to us. It’s only 5 am, and the kind manager offers us to sleep on an old mattress under the stairs in the reception basement. We drop our rucksacks there, but the desire to see the place is so strong that as soon as I see the first light of the day, I leave for a photographic walk. On the banks of the canal, early-risers boat drivers equip long and colorful boats that will take locals to the villages surrounding the lake, and tourists to panoramic tours and cultural activities.

The sun has not yet appeared from behind the mountains, but its morning light gives a magical atmosphere to the place. I proceed towards the center of the village, where some residents are already on their ways through the semi-paved roads. Sleepy rickshaw drivers, old men who sweep the dusty roads with brooms made of wood and branches, women who light fires to prepare tasty batter for pancakes and stuffed samosas to be distributed to the market and to tearooms, and numerous people going to the market by walking and cycling. By 6 am the place is already swarming, and I start looking for monasteries; I sneak through the open door of a derelict building from which comes a lullaby, and I’m lucky to find about fifty young nun girls in pink robes singing mantras and eating breakfast. They look at me astonished and embarrassed while I shoot some photos discreetly. Across the street there is a canteen where a hundred cross-legged children monks in brown robes eat on the floor and joke.

Inle selling fish in market

I eventually reach the market, located in the northern part of the village, and I delve into its chaotic streets where a cacophony of sounds fills the air: people haggle, men unload heavy boxes of fruit and vegetables from horse-drawn carts, women in colored clothes and hats sell various types of flowers, a matron with a cigar in her mouth discusses sales price of freshly caught fish from the lake tied to thick lines, while outside the walls of the immense market, dozens of rickshaws and motorcycle rickshaws wait for customers with carrier bags overflowing with groceries, and numerous dogs and chickens forage the dusty streets waiting for food scraps unsold, in a procession that is repeated day after day. I drink Indian tea and eat coconut samosas in an austere corner tea-house from where I observe the comings and goings of people and I write travel notes.

At 7:30, I return to the canal where, as I observe the local boats loading with goods and with tourists, I make the acquaintance of a group of three Chinese photographers who are looking for passengers to split the cost of a boat ride. I run the guest house, I pay the room and reassure the owner that I shall return in the afternoon; I pick up my camera and day backpack and embark for the trip, tired but full of an energy that comes from the great desire to see new places. I thank often in life this traveler spirit that I have; it is the reason of the greatest satisfaction of my existence.

Inle morning market

We leave at 8 am for a long trip that takes us, after 20 minutes of navigation along the canal and then through the lake, to the following stopovers:

–        Firstly, we visit a village of houses made of wood and bamboo on stilts where the family of our young boatman lives; some of these houses have two floors and large terraces where people drink tea and spend part of the day. The people of these water villages move around on wooden boats or motor boats. The family of our boatman offer us tea, cigarettes, cheroots, snacks and a good chat, aided by the translations of their kids whose English is acceptable. We try to use the little Burmese learned from the travel guide. The inclination of locals to make friends is strong, we notice, and we spend in their home longer than expected.

–        We then stop in a village on the shore where there is a market managed by ethnic Pa-O people in traditional costumes who sell handicrafts and fresh vegetables. The market has a dining area where elderly with carved and intriguing faces drink tea and eat spicy curries that release strong odors in the air; some look at us with curiosity and a smile. Tribal ethnic Intha, Shan, Pa-O, Taung Yo, Danu, Kayah and Danaw people populate the villages around the lake shore, and local markets where they congregate are open in turn five days a week.

–        We stop in several locations to watch Intha fishermen get around the waters using a traditional and unique flat-bottom skiff propelled by a single wooden paddle rowed in snake-like motions by a leg wrapped around the paddle. This technique has become the ultimate photo opportunity of the Inle Lake.

–        We make several stops in workshops on stilts and surrounded by floating gardens, where handicrafts such as silk and cotton, woven on antique looms, cigarillos cheroots, herbs and spices, silver and semi-precious stones mounted on rings, necklaces and jewelry are produced. As in the houses earlier on, in each of these workshops we are offered tea, cigarillos cheroots and various snacks, and this is part of the hospitality that characterizes the people in these parts.

–        We visit the Nga Phe Kyaung, a wooden monastery built on stilts in the middle of the lake, famous for its cats trained by monks to jump through small rings.

The sun is blazing hot and we take shelter wearing hats. All around, an infinite number of motor boats transiting in passageways between water hyacinth and floating gardens, through endless rows of houseboats with floating gardens that form real neighborhoods with closed streets and intersections. Burmese and foreign tourists by the thousands visit the wonders of this way of life on water.

We arrive back at 4 pm sufficiently tired after missing a night’s sleep, but full of information and photos and lasting memories. I lie down to rest, but I fall into a deep sleep…

READ ALSO PART 2 http://asianitinerary.com/inle-lake-by-bicycle-around-the-lake-part-2/

READ ALSO PART 3 http://asianitinerary.com/inle-lake-hitchhiking-part-3/

The post INLE LAKE TRIP – Part 1 appeared first on Asian Itinerary.