Ahhhh the river

After the festival in the north it was time to hit the Irrawaddy river. At first it appeared like el vado, a lake in northern new mexico, which has sandy banks and is dotted with coniferous trees and has wide open areas where the trees are not gathered, but even though el vado is a lake it remains a place where the climate feels and looks very dry and it was the same on the river. But in this area there is a visual treat of seeing ox-drawn carts being pulled along the bank. After this type of environment the banks remain sandy but are surrounded by lush forest.

In this area all along the banks people are panning for gold. When you look at the sand and especially when you grab a handful you can easily see the flakes in it. This helps for the thousands of tons of gold that are covering stupas and statues in burma. The people that collect the gold seem very nomadic. They pitch elongated half dome tents out of plastic and bamboo, I assume, and live where the gold is until it is time to move to another area. There are many varieties in the way the gold is panned. From hand sifting to using large pumps and conveyors, but always done at the local level. There are no corporate machines or vehicles and always the people live where they work in a very modest manner. The first day we (those of us on the boat that were foreigners) arrived in a town called simbo. Just a great small place with dirt roads and a warm rural feeling with genuine hospitality. Tons of children walking the street some yelling "I like you, I like you, I like you..." At least I think this is what they were saying.

Next day headed to bamow(sp.?). The boat was fine at first. About mid way through the trip it was filled to over capacity with about 40 people and 8 or 10 benches to sit on, not so nice. Bamow is a small yet busy town with a lot of chinese influence because it is not so far from the border. The hotel I stayed at had an awesome buffet breakfast. Probably the best breakfast in myanmar. Various soup making stations, lots of sweets, egg dishes and plenty of fresh juice.
Left to the next town called Katha. Within 10 minutes the boat we are on, which was full of tourists, got stuck aground in the river. The workers onboard do something to free the boat and we were on our way. When the water was slightly deeper we docked and a boat that we had passed before we got stuck pulled along beside us and all the locals that were heading to katha got off that boat and onto the one we were on. They also replace the prop. Tourists get all the treatment.

Traveling down the river on the hill side or the banks there is stupa after stupa. As you pass one another looms up in the distance, this occurs on both sides of the river. Some are modest and some are grandiose, perhaps it depends on the wealth of the particular area.

The next morning leave from Katha at 5AM, definitely not my favorite. The banks are no longer sandy and gold panning is no longer the main industry. It has changed to teak timber from the surrounding forest on barges heading down the river. Most of the bank is now soft rock and covered with vegetation, the incline hasn't changed too much, but the panning must not be good. I get off at a town pronounced shweebo instead of going all the way to mandalay. Haggling is alive even for boat transportation. Instead of paying the $35 to mandalay I only pay $25 to shweebo, sweet.

Some thoughts:

There is a monk sitting next to me in the cybercafe.

Telephone booths are actually tables set up with telephones on them on the sidewalk that are connected to the lines overhead.

In Yangon there are no motorbikes. Instead of pitstop stations for motor bikes they have them for bicycles, a simple hand pump and a patch kit perhaps.

Why I am blessed/ Why it is important to get an up to date guide, or so I though.

And I'm back.

After a government implemented hiatus I am back in Cambodia and able to take you along with me on my adventures.

Following my stint in Yangon with Maung Maung (maw maw) I decide to go way north and make my way down south. I head to the bus station which is about 40 minutes out of town and I am certainly the only western foreigner there. Also I am a good foot taller than everybody, so some guys walk up to me and we make jokes, they stand on their tip toes and i crouch down and everyone is laughing. Also there are these burmese cigarettes which are long and rolled in a green leaf, with a bit of tobacco and some other herbaceous material, unfortunately not the heady kind. And I like to smoke these, so I take one out and light it and enjoy it and all the local men get a kick out of it. A good way to entertain the locals.

More and more I am already liking this country, especially when it appears that the conditions of the bus are quite good. I know that I am in for a 10 hour bus ride, so I take some xanax before hand to assist me in passing out on the ride. Well xanax doesn't last very long, and on the bus trips in myanmar there are stops that are made every few hours. On the first stop we come to I am jolted awake and walk out of the bus in a drug haze and I approach what appears to be a carnivalesque food center. There are stand at the front steaming peanuts and pork buns and various dim sums. Inside there are bright flashing lights and people set up all around the tentlike structure and they appear to be carnies at their separate booths. Even though I know this is not the case it still appeared as though it was much more than just a food center enhanced by all the sights, sounds and scents.

I arrive in mandalay around 5 in the morning and shit it is really cold. And this i have to become used to because the north is effing cold. I go around mandalay for the day after procuring a same day ticket for the train from a travel agent after being told at the train station that they were sold out for that day. I also bought a ticket for the next day which they graciously refunded about and hour later. Mandalay is one of the big four in myanmar also included are inle lake, bagan and yangon. For the day I went around mandalay by bicycle cart and took in the sights that were not on the $10 ticket.

Embarked on the 20 hour train ride. The rails are cerca 1920 and the cars 1950. so literally when in the sleeping car and lying down, one is bounced off the bunk on the foot side and then the head side nearly a foot in the air.

The next afternoon I arrived in Myitkyina which is quite far north, and yes it would turn out to be very cold. I was searching the town for lodging. As there was a big festival that weekend many places were booked. If they weren't they were usually not licenced for foreigners to stay there. After a while of looking this gentleman and his friend who are driving a tuk-tuk approach me and ask if I need any help. I say that I am in need of a room. They help as much as they can, eventually taking me to the immigration office and getting me permission to stay at a local hotel. I end up staying at a new chinese hotel, chinese money is everywhere in myanmar, and pay an astronomical $20 a night. What a rip off, not even hot water.

After that is settled I ask them to take me to a local restaurant. We end up at a friends place on a veranda made of bamboo over looking the Irrawaddy river. The food was okay, but the views and company were fantastic. There were only members of the family there and probably some folks who heard a white man was around. So I was the spectacle but we had a lot of fun.

Afterwards we go out on the town to continue the drinking that we had already begun. At the first place we went to we had a quick drink and then some disagreement broke out between my new found brothers and the proprietor, apparently they didn't care for our business that evening, especially from a white man. So we headed to the festival which appeared like a developing world state fair. I was the tallest/ whitest person around, or so I thought, saw a taller white guy as I was leaving.

The guys from the tuk tuk were light weights and got pretty sauced, infact I had to remind them where the tuk tuk was. On the way back I witnessed a pig being killed. I wouldn't have noticed except for the squeals being mad as a long spike was driven into its heart. Then after it was dead they poured very hot water over it and shaved the skin. It was interesting to see and I though it was good preparation for the buffalo sacrifices that I thought I was going to witness the next day. But the next day there were no sacrifices and I heard many reasons for why not. One was because it only happens every other year, another was that they no longer do it. But I think the probable one is that they do it earlier in the month before all the foreigners arrive. This was on January 10th by the way.

We found the tuk tuk and I made them take me to my hotel. Knew the place was clean so I relished in the chance to sleep in the buff. What a great day