´No way, you’re moving
where??’
‘Myanmar. For two
years. Most probably, I haven’t seen any contract yet but it looks likely.’
‘Wow. If you’re really
going I’ll be the first to visit you.’
That was Utrecht, March
2016. After 9 weeks in London I had a week-long training at HQ before heading
back to Ireland; an opportunity I made the most of by visiting my friends in
the area. As Karine and I were catching up over a drink, I told her about the opportunity
of a lifetime that was changing all existing plans. As we all know, that
opportunity became reality as I moved from Dublin via the Netherlands to
Myanmar, a mere two months after the above conversation took place. And Karine’s
promise turned out not to be an empty one, as we’ve just completed a wonderful
trip covering Myanmar’s main attractions. It’s been a journey that allowed me
to see a different side of Myanmar, as the tourist magnets of Bagan and Inle
Lake have a completely different vibe than the remote villages that I usually
visit for work purposes. Yet I also got to see more of the fertile Shan
countryside during our three day hike, and got a glimpse of what life must be
like for people who spend their life in a hut above the water at Inle Lake. All
in all it’s been a very diverse, rewarding and most welcome (first) break from
work since starting 5 months ago. This blog post is to cherish those happy
memories.
Pick nine people,
completely at random, and put them together on a three day, 65 km hike. Have
them share a room for the night where they sleep next to one another on mats on
the floor, and serve them the same food for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Put
them through modestly challenging exercise. Let them use squat toilets. Provide
them with a bucket and cold water for a shower. And observe. You get to know
complete strangers rather well in a short time span when traveling with them.
Moreover, you get to know good friends even better. When faced with discomfort,
with situations that require flexibility, with making do with the means
available, people show their true self. The naked personality emerges from
underneath pretence and flashy cover-up smiles. To me, people who are cheerful
despite (or even because of!) the required adaptations on such a hike, are
generally people I tend to get along with. Lucky me. Our group of nine was a
nigh perfect composition to walk from Kalaw to Inle Lake.
It was just after 5 am
on Saturday morning when Karine and I stumbled out of our night bus, having
just been put through the ordeal of traveling from Yangon to Kalaw. My previous
experiences with night buses in Myanmar had been remarkably positive, compared
with their uncomfortable and dangerous peers in the likes of India (hard
chairs, poor roads, drunk bus drivers) and Latin America (dangerous cliff sides,
bandit holdups, and suicidal drivers). Versus the latter benchmarks our trip
was still a very innocent one, yet not to the level of comfort I had secretly
grown accustomed to. Driving from Yangon to Mandalay and back had proven a very
pleasant experience just a few weeks ago, with the key being not only the
comfortable bus but also the straight road linking Myanmar’s two main cities.
Kalaw, tucked away in the Shan mountains, does not quite have straight roads
leading to it. In fact, I doubt whether there’s any stretch of road lasting
more than 100 meters without a curve of sorts around the place. Add poor
suspension and two seats in the very back and you have the recipe for a poor
night’s sleep, as at times both our bodies entirely left the seating when a
particularly big bump in the road brutally interrupted my doze and had me land
back into my seat wide awake. Little surprise that the thin mat on the wooden
floor that night felt like the softest bed, and I slept like a baby.
Skipping a night’s
sleep helps to make one sleep well on the floor of a bamboo hut. What also
helps is hiking 25 km through the mountains, with a dysfunctional Achilles
tendon that makes the right leg do twice the work. My sole reliance whenever
backpacking (the LP) as well as friends’ opinions (Laurien) had been fabulously
wrong when downplaying the rewards of the hike, as both suggested that it wasn’t
that much spectacular. Well, it indeed doesn’t compare to trekking in the
Himalayas, yet it is still very much worth your while. I guess we’ve been lucky
with our guide, Mary, in multiple ways. Apart from getting us superb food and
being pleasant company, she also picked a route that I suspect is more
beautiful (and longer!) than the ‘standard’ one. We walked through mountains
and paddy fields, through tribal villages and forest. The scenery was nothing
short of spectacular at times, and despite my annoying injury I had the time of
my life. Walking through such a diverse landscape, witnessing local people do
their day to day work, gazing at water buffalos chilling out in the fields or
taking a bath, soaking up the sun in the land of eternal summer… it all made
for a wonderful combination and I enjoyed every step of it.
Except for the bees.
Never run through a swarm of angrily buzzing bees, even (or especially!) when
Matthew goes first. Next time, let the bees have him, and don’t make a fool of
yourself running and screaming while waving frantically to get rid of the
little bastards.
The third and final
component to the recipe of sleeping soundly on the floor is a few bottles of
lukewarm Myanmar (or 8% Dagon) beer, along with a smoke and a sip of whiskey. The
first night we got to take part in the villagers’ celebration of a full moon
day, amid live music and dancing. After another day of trekking the second night
featured less dancing but was all the more hilarious. Rachel introduced us to
Celeste, Matthew gave us a hint of his profession and had me cry from laughing,
and we discussed EPL players in quite some detail. Too bad no quotes survive.
Or well… maybe for the better.
‘Oh you bastard! You’re
staying here? I’m sleeping in a 16 bed male dorm tonight!’ Our little boat had
just turned a corner and the fairy-talelike image of Sanctum Resort emerged. Amid
a week of night busses, mats on the floor, and budget hotels, Karine and I had
decided that our stay at Inle Lake was worth a splurge and Sanctum lived up to
its near-perfect online references. From the deck chairs at the swimming pool
you could see the sun set on the mountains behind the lake, while the resort’s
quarters included cosy library-like rooms and classy bars to spend time after
dark. It was a welcome reward amid luxury I am not accustomed to, so I enjoyed
it all the more. Bar some ancient Italians the hotel was rather quiet, which
meant I had the pool for myself every morning at 7 am to start yet another awesome
day. Breakfast was lovely and the staff even lovelier, and I hope I’ll get to return
to this paradise at least once more during my stint in Myanmar.
Okay, enough resort kudos.
Inle Lake. Well, Inle Lake is a pretty fascinating place. It features villages
built on poles, floating markets that regularly change location, locals who
have built their livelihoods around fishing and cultivating crops on man-made
islands, and an entire infrastructure designed around water-going vessels. Like
in the backwaters of Kerala, the main transport is by boat. People to go temple
by boat, children go to school by boat… it is a mesmerising society that is
unfortunately at risk of being overly exposed to tourism.
I guess that by some
standards tourism at Inle Lake is still rather confined. Yet with Myanmar opening
up, and more and more people deciding to come visit here, Inle Lake being the
country’s main attraction appears at risk of becoming a victim of its own
beauty. I haven’t done any research on the matter, but it is not hard to imagine
what the consequences can be of ever more people flocking to the lake and
disturbing local life and customs with their tourist money. It is a somewhat
hypocritical analysis I am portraying here, as I am myself very much one of
those foreigners doing exactly the things that I fear will negatively impact the
existing ecosystem. Being toured around by our very kind and able driver, I frown
upon flocks of fat Americans being shepherded from souvenir shop to souvenir
shop. Observing particularly callous characters showing no or too little
respect for locals, I detest their inability or unwillingness to make an effort
and respect the Myanmar population who are still so very much unspoilt by mass
tourism. The more uncouth and ignorant foreigners will descend upon the lake
and its surroundings, the more the genuinely helpful and kind character of the
people here will be eroded. Locals will become attractions, tourists will
become sources of income. I can imagine that the lake to date has been a closed
ecosystem of sorts, with its inhabitants living off the fish and grown
vegetables and the lake maintaining a sort of balance (don’t say The Circle of
Life lads, this is a serious topic now for a change). Yet all these tourists
bring with them more waste and may use up more of the ecosystem’s capacity than
it can handle. All those temporary visitors eating, drinking, going to the
toilet, going on boat rides; what will this do to the likes of food
availability, waste water management, and the negative externalities of fuel consumption?
The hypocrisy, as you have no doubt already recognised, lies in the fact that I
am very much one of those people I am frowning upon in all this
tourist-bashing. And to be honest, some of the people on the lake will very
much welcome the increased economic activity which leaves them better off in
terms of income and (some) standards of welfare. For me to avoid the place
altogether wouldn’t be an option – rather I make sure I am very much aware of the huge privilege of visiting this magical place, and treat locals with the same courtesy that they lavish on me. Moreover, I hope that the government takes the
messages on display around the lake (‘responsible tourism development’ etc.)
seriously.
Leaving Inle Lake also
meant saying our goodbyes to the last people of our trekking crowd, which we
did in style over a gorgeous Indian ‘palak paneer’. Another night bus later we
arrived in Mandalay, where we swapped our newly acquired resort standards back
to a twin room in a midrange hotel. Renting the same bike at the same place
(thanks so much Zar Ni for giving the address!) as a few weeks ago, our day in
Mandalay featured riding our scooters to the famous teak-wooden bridge,
climbing Mandalay Hill, and having gorgeous Shan noodles for breakfast (too spicy
for some of us).
From Mandalay we took a
boat to Bagan, where we woke up the next day (or night, technically) at 4:30 am
to watch the sunrise from the top of a temple. Arriving there while it was
still dark we were temporarily under the illusion that we might have the place
to ourselves, yet this wishful thinking was quickly disturbed by a caravan of
cars, vans and motor cycles dropping off a seemingly infinite stream of
tourists. Hence, 10 minutes into our peace and quiet we were surrounded by
loudly squeaking Chinese, boisterous Argentines, and overly excited Americans.
Imagine that the high season hasn’t even started, and Bagan is already flooded
with tourists. Yes, I know, hypocrisy abound. After the sunrise, which was
quite nice to watch despite being in the middle of a camera-snapping crowd, I
decided to leave the tourists to the temples and the temples to the tourists
and finally started reading the book I had been carrying around for a week. A relaxing
end to a very rewarding week, during which I met great people and got to show
Karine some of Myanmar’s most famous treasures. A great thank you for all of
you who’ve made this trip so enjoyable and a particular one to Karine to being
the first one to make the journey from the Netherlands to visit me here.
And of
course, as always, a few quotes to finish the story with:
Me: ‘Could you refill
this water bottle for me please’
Staff at the resort: ‘Let
me get you a new bottle’ (obviously thinking, what a backpacker)
A few of Karine’s
observations during the week:
‘Het is hier net
Burgers Zoo (during the 3 day hike)
‘Giethoorn is er niets
bij (Inle Lake)
‘Please meet Tony and
Celeste’
‘Everyone in this
village waves back to me except that kid. Well you know, that kid can fuck off.’
‘Het is een hele groep
zeg’
‘Ja god’
‘Een groep Italiaanse
bejaarden’
‘Mja Italianen trek ik
meestal nog wel’
‘Ja ik ook wel’
(Watching the sunrise
at the temple, already quite bright)
‘Als je nu pas komt aankakken
dan heb je het echt niet begrepen’
‘Nee inderdaad’
‘He, dat is Laurien!’
