Manic for mopeds

The mopeds of Bagan deserve their own post.  Along the dusty roads and vastness of Bagan, you have few options for transportation - bike, horse-drawn carriage or moped.  For freedom, speed, convenience and good ol' American laziness, we generally chose the mopeds.  

Officially they are e-bikes, run entirely on battery power.  They are plugged into a wall socket to charge, with the appearance of a standard moped.  

Why these things aren't all over college campuses in the US, I don't know.  Myanmar is ahead of the sustainable emissions and energy curve, especially since they frequently pile a family of four onto one of these bad boys.  

We were simultaneously thrilled and terrified riding these nefarious contraptions.  No helmet, no observed road rules and no map meant that navigating the roads would take some iron will determination.  Ok, and sheer delight.  My driving skills have been called out by any number of people in a number of ways, but probably best summed up as anarchist. 

Anarchist driving works well in Myanmar.  If you want to pull over on the opposite side of the road, you just do it.  No u-turns, turn signals or other silly right-of-way measures.  Somehow, the traffic scene is a bit more fluid and just works within the chaos.  

The unpredictability of the e-bikes added to the emotional roller coaster.  On separate occasions, each of our bikes died on the side of the road.  When they didn't die, they could spontaneously break into cruise control at high speed until you pressed the brake.  The seats varied as well, with some that rattled and had a tendency to push into your most delicate areas.  Despite all this, we flew off the roads and onto the dirt trails, doing some serious temple off-roading. 

It was like we were sixteen, all over again.    

 My only note of caution to future riders, be careful at night don't get stuck behind a tour bus.  They can literally poop exhaust on you while you are trying to see a dark road lit up only by your flashlight sized headlight.

All in, I wouldn't trade the experience for the world.

Calm the nerves

"Don't fly after dark."

This was the sage advice from an Australian that has been coming to Ngapali beach for the last six years.  

We are on the same flight as our new Australian friend and it is considerably delayed.  The only way we know this, besides the fact that no plane is landing, is because they take a sharpie to a small hand held sign and write down new departure times every so often, then set the sign up, laying against a window.  

When I ask about flying at night, this nice father, who is traveling with his two young children, says that there are no lights on the runway.  Odds of something going wrong jump up considerably.  He then chuckles and tells us how a couple years ago, a plane skidded off the runway into the ocean.  Everyone was ok, but it took the locals two years to remove the plane from the water.  Until recently, every time a plane landed, you were accosted with a view of a half sunken crashed plane.  Not very good for the nerves.

As we line up, the agent lets us know it will be five minutes.  Since there's no computer or wallow-talkie I wonder how he knows the timing and I ask.  He points to the sky and a plane is emerging from the mists.

Oh.  

Fingers crossed, we are now on the plane.

Marketing with Gods

We have been flying around the country on KBZ airlines. The company's tag line is "flying beyond expectations."  A nice, slightly catchy phrase.  However, when you pair it with their logo of two deities flying, wings outstretched, with conical, yet aerodynamic helmets pointed skyward, the catch phrase takes on a whole new dimension.  Who wouldn't want to fly with the gods on your side??

On the flip side, given the safety records of the domestic airline industry in Myanmar, perhaps instead it means pray like hell.

Grasshopper Tours

There's no way to make this sound appropriate, but despite having a very sore bottom today, yesterday was a true highlight of the trip. We took a half day bike tour through the temples and villages of Bagan. In terms of background, there is one main road that we had travelled via moped, along with all the other tourists, locals on motorcycles, horse drawn carriages, cars and buses, that led up and down a stretch connecting the main villages and temples. I was hoping like hell our bike tour didn't mean riding that road the whole time, eating exhaust fumes and gripping our handlebars for dear life.

Luckily, my fears were proven wrong. Our guide was a well-spoken, wonderful, recently graduated university student, with a passion for cycling. Arawak was typical of the Burmese we've met so far in that he was open and gentle, patient with our questions and quick with a smile. He first led us through the morning market where he identified for us a number of previously unidentified items that we had been curious about (mounds of fish paste, turd looking food that was in fact delicious donuts, and others).

We then started on our bikes through, what he referred to,as the back roads. I would define them not as back roads, but sandy, dirt walking trails. It was awesome.

It was a tour of Bagan we could not have done without a guide. We wandered through tiny villages, where oxen and pigs were wandering the path and families were sitting in the shade carving house siding out of bamboo. He led us to an active monastery, which was from the 11th century with a 20th century open air hut behind it where three monks lived, prayed, meditated and cared for the monastery. We sat inside. Of all the temples I had experienced in Bagan, this monastery held the most presence for me. There was such a stillness and sense of devotion that was palpable once you sat still for a minute. I could have stayed there for hours.

We continued on and reached several of the main temples through the back roads. It was so incredibly cool.

As we ventured through more established villages, I wish I could have taken more pictures while riding. There were tiny shanty's with dirt floors and satellite dishes coming out of the thatched roof. There were so many moments where I wanted to do a double take but navigating the bumpy path and dodging stray dogs took most of my focus.

We finished up at a traditional tea house with a bunch of Myanmar snacks, dirt streaked faces, sore butts and sheer delight.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sent from my iPad

Down and Out in Bagan

I woke after wretched night, still recovering from the chaos in my body.  I desperately wanted to join Rhonda for our cooking class, but the thought of visitng the morning markets with the pungent smells of fish cake and shrimp paste made my stomach churn even more. She danced off bright eyed and I laid moaning and slept off my street food hangover.

In hindsight, I won't say it was a blessing, but there was a real silver lining to the whole experience. We had been going non-stop since we arrived. I normally would not take a day to spend at a hotel, but as I was somewhat forced to, I have to admit, it was decadent. For two hours, I lay in a chair in the sun on the river bank watching the fishing boats putter up and down the watery expanse.  It was a good exercise in being with the day versus seeking out adventure.  I should try it more often (minus the barfing).

 

Sent from my iPad

Wretched Sins of Passion

Damn you, street food.

I give you my love, my passion, my constant adoration and undying attention.

You return my passion with stomach upheaval in every direction.

11th Century Temples and 14 Year Old Boys

We made it to Bagan without a hitch.  The view is surreal. 

Temples peak out from the landscape like Hersey kisses at Halloween in Bagan. It's hard to believe the temples are all from the 11th-13th century. While Europe was in the dark ages, the king of Myanmar was introducing Buddhism to the country with grand sweeping, architectural bang. It's so impressive, I wondered why it was  not a world heritage site. Turns out, Unesco tried, but the Myanmar government did not want to play by UNESCO rules and chose to "renovate" temples their own way. Consequently, we saw lots of original temples with bright gold-painted tops and brand new Buddha staues inside. During a huge earthquake in 1975, many of the conical tops of the temples fell over and the Buddhas toppled over and broke. They were replaced with newer, better, and more gilded versions. No matter whAt rules the Myanmar government followed, nothing so far can take away from the mystique of these pagodas.

Within an hour of arriving at our hotel, Rhonda and I set off to explore them on e-bikes, electric scooters. We were quickly accosted by teenage boys selling paintings and postcards. Their English was decent, their knowledge of the history of the pagodas better, and best of all, they knew the location of secret staircases to the top of the temples. We negotiated with Zawzaw, a 14 year old boy with a gentle smile, hip hairdo, earrings, and a smart phone, along with a fervent passion for jennifer Lopez and Justin Bieber.  We came to terms and he became our tour guide. I plopped him on the back of my motorbike and we were off, the electric bike squealing in defiance of the additional weight

. 

We covered four or five temples, in which we received a in-depth cultural history from our "guide". I dare say, I would be hard pressed to find a 14 year-old American kid that could give an equally in-depth background of any US local, regional or national history.  Much less, in a second language. Zaw Zaw was an impressive kid.  The highlight of the day were the secret staircases and the freedom to scramble all over the 1100 year old temples, up to the roofs. The government is already closing down access to some of the temples and it's easy to imagine that it's just a matter of time before this kind of tourist freedom disappears.

We ended a fabulous day enjoying the sunset over the river from our hotel. It was a fairy tale ending until I woke in the middle of the night with what I will call Burma Belly😷.