Lake Inle

It was a ten hour ride to Lake Inle (including the obligatory dinner and inexplicable 2am tea stops) and at 3.30am, me and two German tourists got out at Shwenyaung where we were met by a pickup which took us on the half hour drive to Nyaungshwe. It was absolutely freezing but about the same temperature as the bus. Luckily for me Tun Aung had phoned my guest house ahead (yes, he really was my saviour!) and while they were full, they set up a small room I could use to rest until my room was ready in the morning.

I figured I had to see the lake today since I’d lost time in Mandalay so headed down to the river just after 8.30am, found a boat driver, found another tourist to split the cost of the boat with, and we were off.

In the southern part of Shan state, the lake is a large working lake with lots of communities on the banks and some in the marshy parts of the lake itself. Ondres, my Czech companion, suggested one of the villages could have been what Venice looked like many centuries ago. There are dozens of men and boys fishing on the lake and a huge amount of produce is grown on the bans and in the marsh areas.

We were both a bit pagoda and monastry-ed out so were happy to cruise around the lake and visit some of the villages.

It actually turned out to be like one of those shopping tours. It was hilarious but we both really enjoyed it and the weather was just perfect. First we visited a local market. The lake has a five day market roster so only certain villages have markets on certain days, and they rotate. So we went to the main one today which was great. We got a late start compared to most so were lucky it was still going on. A lot of the stuff at the market was for locals but there was also a little bit of the tourist stuff and I ended up buying a few things I didn’t want or need, just to get some of the ladies off my back. They were good fun though.

Next we visited a silk/lotus/cotton weaving place – and of course showroom. They did produce some beautiful things. I didn’t even know you could weave from lotus. It is seven times more expensive than silk because of its short harvesting time and the labour required to extract the thread. It is quite a rough thread too but I guess when you’ve seen the process you can appreciate it.

Next was a cigarette making place where we were given tea, rice crackers, and cigarettes while the young girls rolled cigarettes and cigars in front of us. One of them was mixed with aniseed and was rather like smoking Pastis. The other was tobacco soaked in the juice of banana, pineapple, papaya, tamarind, and a few other things. That was a little strange too.

Lunch was at a pleasant restaurant over the water although my noodle soup turned out to be a spicy Shan variety rather than the bland kind I was hoping for.

After lunch we visited a pagoda, a silversmith and jewellery maker, and a paper and parasol maker. By this time it was getting on 4.30pm so we skipped the monastery so we could get back before the sun started setting and the cool evening air settled in.

Ondres had been to Burma seven years before and has come back to visit many of the people he met on his last trip. We had dinner at the restaurant of his friend who was really sweet and wouldn’t accept any money. By this time I was feeling really bad about such generosity so I left money on the table but he came and gave it back to me. What can you do? Next time I need to come prepared with gifts for all of these kind and generous people – money is just the wrong thing for these occasions.

On the market roster, today was Nyuangshwe’s turn. The market was really bustling with pretty much anything imaginable for sale (but I didn’t see any animals or meat).

The monks were all out in full force as well, collecting their money in the rice bowls. One thing I haven’t mentioned yet is the way the monks are part of everyday life here in Burma. Everywhere you go there are monks of all ages, from really small children to the elderly, men and women. However in the morning and particularly at markets, they are collecting donations. Generally they are very pleasant and offer a shy smile if you catch their eye. Although some of the young boys can be a little pushy, not very monk-like I wouldn’t have thought. It is nice when you give them some money and they stand around you and do their chant (although I couldn’t help but compare it to the greeting you get when you enter one of those sushi train restaurants at home).

After the market I thought I’d try a traditional Burmese massage given I’d had a bit of a rough trot. It was a bit like Thai massage but not. You are massaged with your clothes on, then walked on, then at the very end, she rubs oil on your skin, under your clothes. It was quite nice and my masseuse was really sweet. She is the eight generation in her family to practice massage and it is a technique they’ve handed down through the generations. She is now teaching her eleven year old niece, who apparently is quite talented.

After lunch I got a pickup back to Shwenyaung for (thankfully) my final night bus back to Rangoon.

There’s about fourteen bus companies that ply this route so all the backpackers there were waiting for whichever company their guesthouse booked them a ticket on. Mine turned out to be not so great. After being 45 minutes late (and I was an hour early) the bus finally arrives with only two rows of seats available. The entire rest of the bus was packed to the ceiling with white bags of cargo.

I’m still getting over it so let’s just say it was a rather uncomfortable 18 hour ride on a mechanically unsound bus.