The Fisherboy

this is one of my most republished shots in magazines and i thought i’d share with you a link to the story behind the photo.

 

blast from the past ~ i dug this out of some stuff i was sorting through this morning. i captured this pic while backpacking in burma a few years back. location is at lake inle, on the eastern shan province.

 

excerpt from ‘a spot of bother’ by mark haddon

He would have to kill himself.

It was not a comforting thought but it was something he could do, and this made him feel a little more in control of the situation.

The only question was how.

Jumping from a tall building was a terrifying idea, easing your center of gravity out over the edge of the parapet, the possibility that you might change your mind halfway down. And the last thing he needed at this point was more fear.

Hanging needed equipment and he possessed no gun.

If he drank enough whiskey he might be able to summon the courage to crash the car. There was a big stone gateway on the A16 this side of Stamford. He could hit it doing 90 mph with no difficulty whatsoever.

But what if his nerve failed? What if he were too drunk to control the car? What if someone pulled out of the drive? What if he killed them, paralyzed himself and died of cancer in a wheelchair in prison?

“Sir…? Would you mind accompanying me back into the store?”

A young man of eighteen or thereabouts was staring down at George. He had ginger sideburns and a navy blue uniform several sizes too large for him.

George realized that he was crouching on the tiled threshold outside the shop.

“Sir…?”

George got to his feet. “I’m terribly sorry.”

“Would you mind accompanying me…?”

George looked down and saw that he was still wearing the suit trousers with the fly undone. He buttoned it rapidly. “Of course.”

He walked back through the doors then made his way between the handbags and the perfumes toward the menswear department with the security guard at his shoulder. “I appear to have had some kind of turn.”

“You’ll have to discuss that with the manager, I’m afraid, sir.”

– excerpt from chapter 1

 

if you take big paces you leave big spaces. ~ burmese proverb

i am deeply affected by the cyclone which hit myanmar. looking at photos of the damage over the internet especially. because i recognise those streets. the streets with enormous trees splintered all across them. i recognise those buildings. well, what’s left of them. those faces. unmistakably burmese.

photos of downtown yangon, were especially painful.

i was there, remember. just three months ago. i was there. walking down the streets of yangon as they converge around the magnificent sule paya. i was there. among the thousands of people coming and going right in the heart of the yangon. thousands and thousands of people in a hurry to get somewhere, to do something, to earn a living. struggling, yes. thriving, maybe even. alive, definitely. i was there. sitting by the banks of the river watching boats bob over them as the sun begins to set.

i was there. on an adventure that tested the core of my gut (literally and figuratively) about what it is to be an independent asian backpacker.

i learnt a lot on those streets. the side of the world which is insanely beautiful. the side of the world that could instantly drive me to tears. the good, the holy, the ugly, and the fine lines that divide the three.

some people have asked me if myanmar is manageable travel-wise. baby, if i could do it, so can you, but i have always made my reservations clear. do not go there is you are going to judge a country by your personal principles and beliefs. do not go there if you’re not prepared to let realities alter your perceptions. most of all, do not go there if you are afraid.

i am extremely worried about how the capital, and the people of the irrawaddy delta, and the mon and kayin states will fare this trial. you know if you have a house, and a storm tears it down, you will wallow for awhile and then start collecting sand to build a new house. well, what if collecting sand is what you do in the first place, and the storm takes that away from you? what if you had so little to begin with, and now you have less than nothing, because with nothing, you cannot get anything there.

i remember, while travelling in nyangshwe and bagan and kyaitiyo, how groups of teenagers would gather in the evenings. after work (teenagers work 10 hour days there doing whatever they can). after dinner. bundled in jackets, sometimes under a street lamp, which is not necessarily lit. it would be dark, except for what little light escapes a nearby house or the moonlight. between them one, maybe two guitars. these teens would joke about, but not a lot since everyday is like every other. but long in between these nervous laughter, they would sing. happy songs. sad songs. songs about love. love loss. life in general. in an hour or two, one by one, they exchange hopeful smiles, and head home to conclude the day.

i wonder if these children survived. i wonder if their guitar did. i wonder if they still sing.

most of the world blame the government. most of the world have never been to myanmar. most of the world have not seen myanmar, except what the media shows them. while i agree the singular point that the government is desperately ineffective, i learnt that the imposition of one’s philosophies onto another is not always the best solution. just because a mechanism works somewhere, it might not work somewhere else. asia is a patchwork of such failed attempts. see vietnam. see kuwait. see afghanistan.

i am very sad for the turn of events this country has been blown with.

 

Ma Kin bent her head over her sewing. She was a simple, old-fashioned woman, who had learned even less of European habits than U Po Kyin. She could not sit on a chair without discomfort. Every morning she went to the bazaar with a basket on her head, like a village woman, and in the evenings she could be seen kneeling in the garden, praying to the white spire of the pagoda that crowned the town. ~ George Orwell, ‘Burmese Days’

i read a whole lot on my trip to myanmar, which is not really a bad thing. the country is just special like that. it gives me a lot of me time, because of its economic situation and social design. being stripped from technology really never felt so refreshing.

the book i brought with me from malaysia was catch me if you can: the true story of a real fake by frank abagnale. when i was teaching a few years back, one of my students insisted that i watched the movie, after discovering my ability to manipulate systems to a slight degree (they have no idea). at first, i thought it’s leo so it’s going to be one of those pretty boy movies. but really, the storyline was fascinating. so when i found the book a few weeks ago at a second hand bookstore, i added it to my travel stock.

the book is written by frank himself and one does get a sense of nostalgia in his words. written in the first person voice, it is as if he has sat you down to tell you his story. the positive thing is, there is an honesty in the writing and of course, a really, really interesting storyline. negatively, there is no flare in the words which could have more depth to intensify a really remarkable plot. ultimately of course, it is about the story and i have to openly say that this is the story of one amazing person. and it is a true story lagi, so there is respectability in it – maybe not for the writing, but for the experience which he shares in the book, and that is certainly reason enough to make the reading worthwhile.

i finished the book by the time i arrive in mandalay and there are no book exchanges or english bookshops there. the burmese are very into their language. this is not a bad thing, but it left me bookless for a coupla days, until i mentioned it to a rickshaw driver one afternoon. his name was tanzen and unlike other rickshaw drivers i rode with, he would cheerfully chat about music, movies, his new wife, food, places etc. he also gave me a good price for rides as compared to others so i usually looked out for him.

apparently, a few years ago, a traveller gave him a book to read. but because it was written in english and tanzen did not know a lot of the words in it, he said that i could have it. tanzen told me that he tried to read it, and spent hours with the dictionary at just the first page.

he passed the book to me on my last evening at mandalay. the midnight club by james peterson. i need to disclaim that i am not a thriller, horror, action book kind of person. i like good, strong plots with plenty of expressions, but somehow, these genres just always seem to have way too much drama.

okay la, the book was well written la. i’m not crazy about the storyline. i thought it was just typical of the genre. biasalah, the good, the bad, the ugly. there is a slight twist at the end and i liked that part. aside from that, i thought the book was just very normal. not as evoking as the stuff i have been reading, but okay enough. i was just so appreciative to have something to read. would i ave picked up this book from a bookshelf of others? highly unlikely. but that’s just me.

i finished that book at nyaungshwe. not a single bookshop in town. i obtained a third book in bagan. burmese days by george orwell. there were so many other travellers reading the book in buses and cafes etc. and it really is a surreal experience reading a story set in the very place you are at. when orwell described mandalay, for example, i could vividly recall the streets and the people.

this is an old book. the language is old compared to modern writings, but it should not be a problem for most readers. the language is heavy la. banyak descriptions. banyak beating around the bush. the storyline, i thought, was not amazing, as compared to the message it tried to convey. ha, this book, message dia important. the oppression of the british onto the burmese. how they treated the locals. give, of course, that the story was written in the 1930s by the incredibly intelligent george orwell, it does make for reading that has some significance. a piece of social history captured by fiction.

i finished this book pulak, by the tie i reached bago. and i did not find anything to read here or at kyaitiyo. i bought a fourth book in yangon. burmese folk-talks by maung htin aung. i bought an underground version of the book, if you know what i mean. i really don’t know how to comment on this book. it is just outside my scope of expectations. i liked some stories. i don’t like some stories. i thought some were legendary. i thought others were just simplistic.

the only thing that really stands out where this book is concerned is the effort it took, not only to compile the book, but also the analyse – to a respectable extend – the origins and significance of the stories. stories about animals, people, places. it is instersting to read the story, and then flip to the back of the book to learn a short history of the story. more of the stories are moral stories, macam cerita dongeng melayu jugak, and then there are some stories derived from the buddhist jataka. i finished this book in yangon itself.

i exchanged all of these books in bangkok – except burmese days. exchanged it for other books about the region.

 

bangkok jazz

for once, it is amazing to be amidst the bangkok chaos, after the comparatively docile yangon! yesterday bangun pagi like at 5am because i had to be at the airport by 6.30am for my flight here. shared a cab dengan ada satu mat salleh lansi gila nak mampus who openly declared that dia tak suka asians. sia-sia je share a cab dengan dia ni semata-mata untuk save about 3,500 kyats that i cannot change back into USD. ingat nak use it up at the airport, but as modern as the yangon airport is, there is not a single kedai at the shop, wei! no overprices souvenirs, no duty free whatevers.

hello bangkok.

spent the day exhanging my books and cafe hopping at khao san street. bestnya, to see thousands and thousands of foreigners. sekarang rupanya musim western europeans. everything kat sini mahal leh, because peak season. so far a cry from the burmese days where streets, guesthouses and cafes are almost deserted. i miss it already :P

met up with an old friend for dinner. i have not seen nit for years and we automatically fell into one conversation topic after another. apa nak buat – debaters!

finally, and i do mean i FINALLY got to go to the blues bar and tia was performing with a madly talented guitarist who i swear has something else at the end of his palms but they sure ain’t fingers! he’s crazy and his music in incredible.

my last day on this trip and it’s raining this morning. from myanmar time (1.5 hours behind kl), i need to adjust to thailand time (1 hour behind kl) and i’m sure i’m going to have problems when i get home nanti. i realised that i look AWFUL! sunburnt from lake inle. scars from the stupid bicycle pedals in bagan. entah apa lagi.

will post more when i get home nanti ye. and pictures, ya ya. till then, sawadee kaa…!

 

burmese daze

bagan was insanely beautiful. one climb up the shwesandaw paya was all it took for the eyes to shatter every imagination of the land the mind ever had.

stupa after stupa after stupa. soaring like needles towards the sky. big ones. tiny ones with a single sitting buddha image. brown ones. ones with golden crowns. clusters of them. singular ones. all coming together to create an utterly breathtaking landscape.

this is my oh-my-god moment. right here. right up in front of me. i’m just sorry that the sunset is a little cloudy, but even then, the panoramic view of this place is incredible.

at the foot of the paya, a horde of people mob me, trying to sell me t-shirts, longis and sand paintings. “you buy blouse from me, miss?” a sweet girl lifts a dark blue see through garment in front of me, “i have your size!” she tells me. i politely smiled as i shake my head.

“where you from?” one child peddling postcards ask me.

“malaysia,” i replied.

“you buy postcard, malaysia?”

“no, thank you.”

“you very beautiful, malaysia,” he chirps with shining eyes.

“thank you.”

“now you buy postcard, malaysia?”

“no, thank you.”

i left the child at the child at the entrance of a paya as i explored the temple compound. when i returned, the kid was still there. he stood up automatically. with a wide smile plastered on his face, he calls out to me.

“malaysia! you buy postcard?”

“no, thank you.”

“cheap, cheap. lucky money.”

“no, thank you.”

“please buy postcard.”

“no, thank you.”

“you don’t buy postcard, i cry.”

and the boy promptly covers his eyes with his hands and wails. other tourists stop in their tracks and see this asian looking traveller and a wailing child in front of her. the boy screams and wails.

i slung my bag across my shoulders, put my bicycle keys in my pocket and catching the kid by surprise, i lifted him up in the air and tickled his sides. he must be just six of seven years old, and even though he’s selling postcards, he’s still a child.

the boy laughs. i put him down. smiled, got my bicycle and peddled off.

i came back the next day.

“malaysia!” he remembers me, “today you buy postcard?”

“no, today i have present.”

“present for me?” he was surprised.

i gave the boy a box of colour pencils. the boy smiled widely.

“i don’t buy postcard, okay?”

“okay!!!”

i think that too many people tend to compare bagan to angkor. they usually go the angkor before bagan and the expectations are set from there. for me, both these places are incomparable, and mystifyingly glorious in their own way.

it rained all day in bagan on my second day there and i found myself in the intellectual circle of a german, an italian and an israeli discussing about everything from regional travel to orwellian ideologies, to gastronomical methodologies – then walking in the rain for dinner – and then back to our guesthouse breakfast deck which was on the third floor overlooking nyaung oo, to continue our spectrum of topics.

this must be one of the best things about backpacking. you meet people all the time. people from different countries and cultures – and you get along, and you wonder why the world fight wars when we could all be exchanging local stories and jokes over turkish coffee and malaysian peanut butter biscuits.

we talk about travelling a lot. about backpacking. about local customs. the places they have been. the places i have. i tell them stories about cryptic bus rides between vietnam and laos. they tell me about traversing the himalayas and dancing all night long in the latin region of the world. all of a sudden, all things are possible. the world is not all that evil. and all things are possible.

two days later, i was on a bus to bago, where everything is BIGGER. ad i do mean everything. giant reclining buddha. giant sitting buddha. giant standing buddha. giant paya.

i met chriss again, quite by accident in bago and shared breakfast with a swiss woman at a briyani shop here. we contemplated our next destination. chriss is going back to yangon. swiss woman will be taking a bus down south. me, i am hunting down the golden rock.

early next morning, i hitch hike onto an overflowing truck heading to kyaitiyo. first it was packed with school children. then, ladies going to market. finally, those heading out of town.

i cannot imagine how people can doze off under burmese road conditions!

finally, i am in kyaikto to climb the mountain to see the golden rock. steep gila suit!!! i swear, if i tripped on my way down, i’d just roll all the way to the bottom! it is possible to climb all the way up but that would take a good five hours, minimum. so i took the most insane truck ride halfway up the mountain. dude, it’s a mountain leh, not a bukit! so there i was, with about fifty other people jammed at the back of a giant, roofless truck, screaming as the vehicle took sharp corners at top speed.

>
the final hike up took 45 minutes. view from the top was mind blowing. a shiny, panoramic pavillion of the mountainside. the golden rock itself was pretty amazing.

two days later, and i am back in yangon. i’ll be browsing about the outskirts of the city for the next two days before my flight to bangkok. my camera battery charger has been diagnosed with voltage overload so i’m cameraless dah. *cries!*

malam ni i will be looking for shan noodles. my guidebook kata there is one backlane kedai makan here that’s the city’s secret. mmm… shan noodles…

on a literary note, i’ve sourced two more books somehow, and have finished reading those also. now i’ve got three read dead weight books in my backpack and hello! i’ve just acquired one more just two hours ago. am seriously looking forward to the bangkok book exchanges!

 

i’ve safely arrived in bagan!

original post:

the bus ride between nyaungshwe to bagan: oh. my. dear. god. almighty. most gracious. most merciful. most forgiving.

and i’d never use god’s name in vain.

wait for it.

it began with a bone piercing, FREEZING morning in kalaw. so cold, the water was icy and it took the prayer of every shriveled up pore to wash my face. it was COLD! i took my backpack and locked the room door behind me.

breakfast was served in the adjacent building. to get there meant being momentarily exposed to the cool morning air. i had a hurried breakfast with a jolly french lady who was travelling in the opposite direction.

then came the walk to the bus point. fifteen minutes at a leisurely pace, as i discovered the previous day. in this morning air tho, i tried to walk swiftly, but my joints quickly stiffened. i walked as quickly as i could. it was 7.15am and the sun was a blurry glow behind some thick clouds.

my bus came. a rickety old bas mini. seats don’t recline. there is no air cond. cushions must be a thousand years old. i sat next to a trendy looking teenager who was carrying a big plastic bag of clothes which she arranged at her feet. off we go.

the road was insanely windy. like genting. but rougher. we kept speeding and stopping and winding. it was rough. lots of potholes and close shaves with oncoming vehicles. the girl beside me could not take it. half an hour in, she threw up into a plastic bag. about twenty minute later, she threw up again. looking awfully tired, she threw the plastic bags of vomit out the window and hung her head as close to the rail as possible.

two hours into the trip, we stopped. i thought that it was a makan stop but rupa-rupanya, everyone had to stop because the bridge in front was broken and the villagers had to fix it first. there must be about twenty vehicles in either direction waiting to cross. everyone got off the bus to watch.

one hour later, the bridge was fixed. we were baking in the sun. but of course, mana boleh kita pegi dulu… by now, dah berpuluh-puluh vehicles piled up on either directions and so kena ambik turn. it was a good half and hour after that that we can move.

less than two hours into the trip, we stop again. makan.

after makan, off again.

three hours in, we stop again. tayar pancit. it is in the middle of the afternoon. panas gila nak mampus. bus has been running on no air cond. vomit girl couldn’t hold it in again.

we arrive in meiktila. first, we pick up a bunch of schoolboys. a few kilometers down the road, we pick up a bunch of schoolgirls. the students fill the aisles of the bus. they start flirting. from one end of the bus to the other.

this high-pitch flirting, giggling, arguing, laughing, goes on for the next four hours. i swear, given just half the chance, i would have booted all of them, one by one, boys and girls out of the friggin’ bus. i think vomit girl would have helped me too. along with some of the makciks in the bus. dah la panas, we were all exceedingly irritable. nak je aku lepaskan geram.

the road between meiktila and bagan was incredible. some of the worst roads i have ever travelled on in indochina. where there was road, it was penuh dengan lubang. where there was no road, it was rull of batu. dal la tu, narrow pulak. kalau vehicle meets vehicle, someone has to menyimpang.

and our bus driver punyalah generous. asyik dia je yang menyimpang.

this is a damn close second in some of the most terrifying bus rides indochina has to offer.

the ride was supposed to be seven hours. it was a solid 13 hours long. i watched the bagan sunset from the bus.

i arrive in nyang ou. being the only traveller on the bus, i was immediately flanked by touts. being alone and a woman, susah to flag them off. i concentrated on my guidebook and headed straight to what i found interesting. nasib baik dekat. i saw the room. i liked what i saw. it was a done deal.

besok, aku akan rent a bicycle to go a journey to the archeological sites of ancient bagan.

 

nyangshwe to kalaw on a pick up

chris and i bargained so hard in hitch hiking a pick up, we tak berani mangaku from where we’re from. instead, he told them he was dutch and aku pulak… i told them i was singaporean la, apa lagi? ;)

lama jugak we waited at the shwenyaung junction tu. one after another pick-ups would come but we all jual mahal. they wanted 10,000 kyats per head. our price was 3,000 kyats for dua-dua sekali. see what i mean by driving a hard bargain? we walked away from so many, there was sederet pick-ups over the other side of the street waiting for us to change our minds. chris la, yang did the bargaining most of the time because dia kata he’s the white dude so bargaining chip dia kuat sikit. aku kan asian. and a girl. he he. biar la, i was quite happy as i was.

finally, ada jugak that took up on. an overflowing pick up, filled with bermacam-macam jenis vegetables and other household appliances. i even saw a small clay oven burner on the pick up. oh kay la. asal dapat the ride. just a few minutes before, chris and i were thinking about going back to tutu’s place kalau tak dapat a ride at our preferred price.

kalaw sejuk wei :P

sadly, kalaw is where my journey with chris ends. i will continue on my way towards the east to bagan tomorrow. chris goes to meiktila, and southwards from there.

 

you want to make a memory?

original post:

i arrived at nyaungshwe at 5.30am, freezing cold. i could blow frost vapour from my mouth when i speak and the bus ride had been a bone rattling 12 hours long.

hello lake inle.

internet’s not easy to come across here, incredibly slow and incredibly expensive so here’s a quick update. my stomache is still kinda sensitive so not too much local food experimentations going on here. i’ve visited the day market and took the lake tour yesterday which was interesting. i’ll write more when i come back, particularly on one monestry i visited on the lake. there is a bucnh of monks there who were bored enough to teach cats to jump through hoops. got it on video too.

i like lake inle. this place’s got character. been here for three days already but enough it the cold, i think. i will leave for bagan tomorrow.

i learnt that i am not the only one experiencing crazy burmese arrival times. bus departure times memang okay tapi everywhere, you can arrive in the middle of the night and be left stranded, and this kinda happens everywhere in myanmar. ada satu couple i met on the bus and they arrived in kalaw at 3am. another solo traveller i met somewhere told me that he sampai kat bago at 4am. the travel time is not amazingly reliable either. kalau the tell you five hours, expect seven. in my case, they told me i’d be in lake inle in eight hours. it was more like twelve. from entah mana they dropped me off – identifying locations in the middle of the night is not exactly what i’m madly good at – it was another half an hour to nyaungshwe and lake inle via one of the saddest looking taxis in the universe.

the road was amazing. you have tarred roads. you have devastating tarred road with craters everywhere. then ada red dug earth. then ada pebbles as in batu kelikir sungai. can you imagine a bus going through all that? a bus whose absorbers dah tak boleh pakai dah? and then overloaded? and the roads – ada lagi, pak – windy macam nak naik genting like that?

by the time i got to ‘remember inn,’ it was 5am. i got my taxi drive to wait as we banged on the gates of the guesthouse until tutu, the friendly and remarkably helpful innkeeper opened the door for me. we agreed on the room rates and i attempted to settle in.

there was no electricity, but tutu offered me a candle. and i guess i must have been shivering pretty badly because she came back again after a few minutes and offered me an extra blanket.

it WAS very, very cold.

i woke up late the next morning. duh. way past breakfast. almost miserable.

my stomach was still on a rampage and i bundled myself up in whatever i had. meekly, i made my way to the reception. i occured to me that when i settled into my room, i did not properly check in. i found tutu, and apologised for crashing in and waking her up so late at night. tutu appeared used to this sorta thing.

took it easy on my first day in nyangshwe. went to see the market. the river that leads to the lake. in the evening, a few of the inn’s workers, some very young boys, gathered outside the inn. it was very cold. they sat on a turf of grass under a lamp post. a guitar between them, they sing.

the next day, i shared a boat tour with chriss, a german, and niko, an italian. went to see the silversmith and some craft factories. the floating market was over my the time we got there so we went to the land market instead. some floating farm, which i thought was fascinating. and some monestries. especially the cat monastry. the monks teach cats to jump through hoops there. weird.

cantik. lake inle cantik. not gorgeous cantik, ada lagi tasik elsewhere that is lagi cantik. but this tasik has character, you know. it is alive. and that makes it cantik.

chirss and niko are interesting company. friendly. funny. i appreciate it a lot. been some time since i had such a laugh.

my stomach was still misbehaving. i’ve been on a almost completely liquid diet for 2 days already. chriss offers me some german medication. i found a pharmacy in pekan nyangshwe. beli antibiotics. cipro. guidebook says it will work for sakit perut.

full moon tonight.

 

under the weather

original post:

“have been feeling a little feverish since yesterday. it could be the cold and hot spells of this place, though i have a suspicion that it could also be be yesterday afternoon’s chicken rice. i was right about the language barrier part – a lot of the places cannot even say “noodle” or “rice,” let alone any kind of lauk, so i’m usually hunting down places to eat which have even the most vague description of what they serve. i’ve been on panadol since last night.

mandalay hill’s got some gorgeous sunsets. move aside batu caves, it’s over 900 steps to get to the top of the hill, but what a view!

i’ll be leaving for lake inle tomorrow. i hear that it is even more sejuk over there, but at least the weather is a little more consistent. i tak sempat go to the ancient cities of mandalay yet, but i’ll need to double back here on my way to bagan nanti so i guess i’ll do that then.”

my stomach rumbled all day long, it was almost ridiculous. it was the imfamously first week infestation of TD or ‘traveller’s diarrhoea.’ oh yes, there really is such a thing. and i can vouch that it gets so tiring after awhile.

i was determined however, to not be bed ridden too much these few precious days in mandalay. i climbed up the legendary mandalay hill, barefoot and all. views all the way up was amazing. the structure of the hill, i thought was just a tad deceiving. i’d be huffing and puffing of a set of stair, arrive at a platform thinking that i’d reached the top, see a magnificent buddha image, walk around it, and find another set of stairs! it’s suppose to have over 900 steps but i lost count after 200 something. tiring memang tiring and the benches all the way up the hill were filled with people sitting resting, sleeping, dating etc.

the pavillion at the top of mandalay hill is marked with glass, and looks out to a gorgeous sunset. plenty of tourists up here and we all waited as a thin mist creeps over the zinc rooftops of houses and the sun turns into a red ball in the sky. memang cantik la.

of course, whatever goes up, must come down. my stroll down the hill was accompanied by an indian astrologer who worked at the hill. he kept wanting to read my palm, but i did not want to pay anything, so we settled for casual conversation through the 900 steps down. he’s been reading palms for over 30 years and learnt the craft in india. the spoke about his daughters and appeared very proud of them.

i asked my rickshaw driver if he knew where to find the moustache brothers. i’ve been searching them out for days abut tak jumpa. he did, and brought me to the brothers’ house for the evening’s performance. patutly aku tak jumpa tempat ni dulu, i was looking down the wrong street.

the brothers, their wives and sisters are allowed to perform to only foreigners and there was a crowd of about ten that evening. “your cameras are welcomed,” lu maw tells the audience as par par lay poses in shackles in front of us, “tell the world about us.” i soon learn of the message they really want to put across – tell the world about the harsh realities faced by the burmese people. the brothers sing and dance and perform stand up comedy making fun of the government. kelakar tu memang macam ada la, but it is more of lawak bodoh than anything else.

 

mandalay moments

original post:

“arrived in mandalay via an overnight bus this morning. the bus was not bad really – air conditioned, reclining seats – but the road was a little too bumpy for any sleep. we were mostly riding on dry red earth for most of the 14 hour journey.

i will be here for awhile. internet here is double the price it is in yangon so you won’t be hearing me much over the next few days. mandalay is coooooold… located on the tip of the northern highland, it is like genting over here, just without the wind. no clouds – thank god! – blue skies and cool air. my nose went into fits almost right away when i arrived this morning and i’ve started my vitamins course, just in case. can you believe it, barely a week in and i’ve already digging my medical supplies.

i have a sense that language might be a small barrier over in mandalay. i seem to blend too easily as a burmese lookalike so everyone talks burmese to me.”

mandalay is the the country’s 2nd biggest city and former capital. it has an old, tired feel to it. roads are all in bloc grids and go by numbers. plenty of vehicles but everything here just looks old. and tired. macam dah lama dah menunggu and then macam tu. it is not abig city by modern standards. but it covers a really big area.

the city’s symbol is the mahamuni pagoda. this is where controversy begins in this country. the buddha image here is so sacred and holy and there is loads of respect to it. but is was also said to be stolen from another state in myanmar and they damn right want it back. point is, tribal conflicts still occur in this country and uniting these people is what some people doubt democracy can do. why? because people here simply tak nak beraman and tak nak bersatu. it is not even a question of representation in the government. besides, of course, the heroin and opium problem in this region of the country, some tribes in the country memang saling tak suka.

this country punya propoganda memang obvious. the military government forces people to follow its regime and in that, to either get along, or stay in their own state. game being, jangan berani cari pasal. yang atas tu ialah signboard kat luar the old mandalay palace.

my greatest discovery here are the stage shows. the people are so miskin and since there is nothing to do at nights, mereka kumpul duit and sewa a makeshift bamboo stage dengan some ancient speaker and lighting system. and they put on a show. simple singing. dancing. projector wayang kulit sikit. comedians. macam malaysia back in the 60s. and i think that’s what this place is – a country cought in a time warp, seriously. there is a small carnival atmosphere to it. people bawak tikar to sit on the roads. ada orang jual kacang and tebu and kuih-kuih sikit. plenty of families with kids and young couples. everything is in burmese but that is their language.

 

larger than life

shwedagon paya

shwedagon paya blew my mind to bits. it was amazing. i must admit that while i am a culture vulture, i don’t exactly score very high as being a temple buff. but this takes the crown, lads. you’ll salivate at the photos i bring back.

the moment my bare feet touches the marble tiles of the huge pagoda compound, i can feel the celebration of life radiating from the giant golden stupa. people pray and meditate here with devotion and sincerity just overflowing out of them. i met a bunch of other travellers here – most of them fresh in from india yo – and they’re telling me that this structure beats the taj mahal. i’ve never been to india (yet!) but i think that’s a huge complement to shwedagon. how crazy is this place? i came at 1130am and stayed on till 730pm. that’s right, blew my whole day there. amazing.

sule paya taken from the sakura tower

i’ll be making my way via overnight bus to mandalay this evening. before i go, i need to located a certain tower to try to get and got an almost aerial view of sule paya. this paya doubles as a giant roundabout in the middle of yangon town itself and there is a suspiciously strategically located cafe which has this prized view.

will try to email again from a different state. love. peace. and all of the above.

 

talk to me, like lovers do

original post:

“yangon is hot. not just hot. scorching. maybe its the afternoon thing. people here insist that the morning and evening weather is more favourable. i suppose if you hear things over and over again, you tend to believe them. i’ll know by this time tomorrow, i supposed.

i will cerita about the drama bila aku balik nanti. about my long, long night between three airports, and then some. i don’t know how much i’ll be able to report while i’m here. internet is slow and expensive. the adventures have certainly began, i can say that.”

for once, i am glad that airasia delayed. i was not exactly looking forward to my night at suwarnabhumi airport. i opted for it purely out of convenience. so that i won’t need t spend the night in bangkok city – just a few hours at the airport.

and what a psychedelic airport it is! the industrial style finishing. the electric blue lighting. the zigzag escalators! sleeping was lain cerita la. dah la airport tu sejuk gila, there were also no benches with straight seats. semuanya were individual seatings and get this – metal. cold. hard. metal.

at 5am, i joined a line of groogy backpackers to check into the flight heading to yangon. tak lepak mana-mana pun at the airport – terus masuk the boarding lounge, where i found a convenient pillar to lean against and automatically fell asleep. nasib baik there was a hassle when the attendant called because i would have missed my flight!

i flew over mountains. ranges and ranges of them. and rivers that wind and intertwine each other.

hello myanmar.

it was a scorching hot afternoon in yangon. i think i mentioned it already. i opted to stay right in the center of town with probably the easiest landmark, the sule paya. everything revolves around it. this is where my first stereotype of myanmar was shattered. you see, i left kl with images of a country in chaos. riots. semua orang muka masam. marshal law. curfews. army people with guns at every junction. tapi what i found was a busy busy busy city with such helpful people. memang aku paranoid on this first day because in cities, ada thieves la, perverts la, gangster la. tapi no one kacau me.

no one i did not want to la. i got offered to change money on the streets. first day dah kena hassle by the black market but aku memang dah research about this and was actually expecting it. the rates are reputably better and i checked it out. kalau tukar kat bank dengan government, it’s 1,000 kyats a US dollar. kalau tukar kat the guesthouse, its 1,150 kyats to a dollar. kalau at the streets, it can go up to 1,300 kyats per dollar. i changed a hundred dollars and got a huge stack of money that won’t even fit in my wallet.

my first night in yangon was surreal. all shops closed – including the kedai makan – by 7pm and by 9pm, everything is dark and half the streetlights go off. i learnt that in this country, there is no 24 hours electricity and that almost every building is heavily dependent on diesel powered generator sets.

 

gone travelling

dear friends,

i have left to go backpacking at one of the most enigmatic countries in SEA, myanmar. i will not be able to update this blog, nor be reachable through any mobile network throughout the duration of my travels. to keep abreast with the latest info on travellers in myanmar, please go to the thorn tree forum via the button on this post.

i got my travel insurance, an amnesty package and my travel visas sorted out. i should be back by CNY. so wish me luck, take care ad behave yourselves. till we meet again, peace be with you.