Another boat was waiting

Our drive took us over the hills and far away to Inle.  Though it had been just a 25 minute flight from Mandalay, it would have taken us ten or twelve hours to drive.  Seeing the train over the valley, we asked if that was a viable alternative to such a short flight.  Sanda pulled a face!  Not only is the train network somewhat limited, they travel very slowly too with the express service reaching the dizzy heights of 45mph.

We were glad to have flown.

We drove through rural landscapes where farmers were moving their cattle around and transporting produce around on small carts pulled by cattle or small tractors.

We drove through one or two villages where there were elaborate temples shining in the sunlight.

then out into the flat plain with paddy fields as far as the eye could see.

Busy times in the rice fields, right now with all hands on deck to get new shoots planted.  Back breaking work.

This man was taking the young rice plants from the nursery beds ready for them to transplant into the field.

Meanwhile, two small boys were playing nearby and getting very muddy.  Mind you, the chap using the rotavator hasn’t managed to stay very clean either, has he?

Shortly, we came to the tollbooth.  The Inle area is a protected area rather like a National Park and our driver had to pay a fee for us.

He took us as far as Nyaung Shwe, where we arrived at what looked like a small market, but on closer inspection we realised it was a boat terminus.

It was a busy place with tourists and local people coming and going.  Sanda called to someone and before long a colourful boat arrived at the jetty – our boat and driver for the next three days we learned.

In went the suitcases, the hand baggage and then ourselves.

I can’t tell you how pleasing it was to have not only the most colourful boat in the fleet but a matching tarpaulin, too!

The boats travel pretty fast – they’re powered by a basic lorry engine at the back – and they can be quite splashy too.  They form the major form of transport around Inle and we were to spend quite a lot of time sitting in ours over the next few days.

The first part of the journey was along a short stretch of canal, from Nyaung Shwe to the lake itself.  Local people who don’t use a motorboat get about using these shallow, wooden boats – a much more environmentally friendly alternative to the noisy, diesel engines of the majority.

However, when you don’t have all day to do things, then a motor boat has to be the way and so we powered out into the lake and joined a few others zooming about.

The light here is rather strange.  It’s hazy and the watery colours make for a bland landscape of neutral colours, but it’s dotted with white flares which are formed from the splash of the motorboats moving across it.

In the middle of the lake we came across a structure which looks a bit like an abandoned pier but which is actually a Government lodging, Sanda told us.  Each time we passed it, I though how spooky it looked out there.

To our right was a collection of bamboo poles and small elevated bamboo houses.  We didn’t find out what that was all about until later.

We turned into a small canal a little further on and found ourselves in the midst of Inn Paw Khon village which like so many similar communities has a single speciality.

As we parked the boat at the jetty, we guessed what it was from the sound we could hear from those open windows – the clatter of looms, shuttles and beaters.  Inn Paw Khon is renowned for ikat weaving.

Over a rickety bridge or two then and straight into the warping room, where a woman was walking to and fro with several warp threads in her hand, preparing what must be the most boring process of the lot.

In the next room were a group of ladies, sitting around with the swifts, winding thread and chatting amongst themselves.  Sanda explained that this gentler task was usually given to the older women who perhaps would have difficulty with some of the more intricate tasks.

The boys were doing the tying and resist work, following an exact pattern and with a sample of the finished result hung over their frame.  They worked quietly under the eagle eyes of the elderly ladies opposite – surely that arrangement was no accident?

It was quite a task to tie all those strings accurately and securely and their work was neat and precise – well, it has to be, hasn’t it?

One or two finished frames were there, ready for dyeing.  They were rather decorative as they stood, don’t you think?

There were also some bundles of cotton hanging from the frame though I’m not sure exactly what the intended outcome of these was – most of the work here was done in silk.

Into the next room then, where the looms were working and this lady was tying the orange fringe before going on to weave the green.

 

Bright colours were the norm and though the women working the looms were friendly, they didn’t miss a beat in the rhythm of their work.

For concentration was needed.  Each weaver had up to twenty shuttles with the ikat-dyed thread on them.  Each shuttle was to be used twenty times, maybe, or fifteen depending on the pattern.  So, she had to count, throw, work her feet on the pedals to shift the heddle and of course, beat the weft after each throw of the shuttle.  Maybe you can recall when we were in Laos and I sat alongside a young Lao woman who taught me the basics?  All I can say is that it’s a bit like trying to pat your head and rub your tummy at the same time – oh, and maybe play a Bach sonata whilst you do!

I guess that if you do the same thing day in day out, sooner or later it becomes easier?

But even so, this weaver took the trouble to check each line as she worked, to ensure the colours were going to line up and her work would meet the standard.  No slapdash work here.

This lady was weaving something special – lotus fibre.  We’d never heard of it so Sanda took us off to learn more.

Here the woman had soaked some stems of fresh lotus plants and made a cut about an inch from the end before pulling to reveal strong fibres which seemed to come out fairly easily.  She twisted it by hand and joined it to the previous piece – that small bobbin and the unwound thread in the bowl was the product of her morning’s work.  Slow progress indeed.

The woven cloth felt a little like linen but had a softer handle.

Sanda showed us the article about the jacket Loro Piano had made from the fabric made here.

Later, we looked at the scarves in the shop – prices ranging from $100 for the smallest to $500 for a reasonably sized, wearable one.

Notices in every language explained that this was a fixed price shop – no bartering here.

There was certainly a great deal of temptation – though actually, not so many of the ikat weavings, surprisingly.

Now, there’s one fewer there, as well

As soon as he saw us, our driver leapt to his feet and brought the boat over.  We stepped carefully in and were away.

The afternoon was young and Sanda had something else to show us before we went to our hotel.  I’ll tell you about it in the next post.

The Sagaing Hills

Our programme this afternoon was to take us out into the hills above Mandalay, where there are many pagodas and monasteries.  The nine of us in our minibus rattled around like peas in a bucket, though any time we felt sorry for ourselves, we only had to look ahead to feel better.

After all, there are always some less comfortable than oneself, don’t you find

This was a dry but leafy landscape with a bit of farming on each side of the road and the occasional village to drive through.

The toll plazas come surprisingly frequently here and there’s always a queue.

A little further on we make a brief stop for photos at this temple, the Kaung Mu Daw pagoda and Aung told us the story of its foundation.  Can you imagine where the idea for the design is said to be taken from?

Before we reached the hills, we made another brief stop at a silversmithing shop.  The smallest member of our group was pleased to hand round the surprisingly weighty piece of silver she’d been given to hold.

 

Items here are made using the lost wax process and the craftsmen finish the job by hand with some skilful techniques.

Some were working on larger pieces, maybe for purchase by a group or a village to donate to a temple.

The end result was lovely – just not to our taste.

I wondered too, how long before the silver would tarnish, and how often it would need (tricky?) cleaning?

Unsurprisingly the exit was through the gift shop, though like everywhere else we’ve been, there was no hard sell – no soft sell, even.

Up the hill we drove, along the narrowest and windiest of roads to the top where there was a temple with a viewpoint.  Mid afternoon by now, we were all pleased to enjoy a little cool air – the silversmith’s shop had hardly been the coolest of places – and the open viewing platform was a lovely place to stand and stare for quite a while.

Even though it was hazy, it was good to look over to see the monasteries around these hills, with their golden domes and intricately shaped pagodas.

Looking down a little further along, we could see over to the Ayerarwady and beyond.

All around us were glistening golden pagodas.  If only it had been clear.

Since we’d come so far, we did drop in to see the Buddha himself, but it was hot and sticky indoors and those views were a rather more tempting outlook.

So we stepped outside again for another look.

Aung pointed out the Kaung Mum Daw pagoda we’d seen earlier before suggesting that it was time to go.  He had an idea for somewhere else to stop by on the way.

 

At the bottom of the hill was a nunnery.  (I know, that sounds like the start of a story, doesn’t it!?)  These young girls had just begun their time as novices and were sitting in a shady corner learning the buddha’s teachings by rote, chanting together.  They smiled and waved, happy to be distracted from their learning, it seemed.

Aung suggested we take a look around, peer inside the buildings and maybe he’d see if he could find someone to talk to us in the meantime.  Look, here are some batteries being used in a balance, just like in the market.  I wonder what they weigh out in that bowl?

The balance was on the step of the nunnery kitchen, a dark and gloomy place in which to cook, I thought.

The room next door was worse still – this was the food preparation area.

In the meantime, Aung had found Mary, who told us she was 59 and had been in the nunnery since she was 17.  She was happy to talk and to answer any questions we may have about her life and Aung would translate for us.

There followed a fascinating fifteen minutes or so as we learned about the life of a nun here in the Sagaing Hills.  She told us how happy she is here – both her parents had died when she was young and she had little family left, just a few nephews and nieces, one of whom was here in the nunnery too.

Her days were full, with an early start at 3am to begin her prayers.  She cooked for much of the day, preparing food for the monks in the monastery opposite (that raised a smile from several of the group, I can tell you) and her hours were busy and productive.

Though she’s lived here most of her life, she’s free to leave whenever she wishes, but she doubts that she will.  The oldest Nun is 98 and there’s no reason why Mary wouldn’t live out her days here.  Whilst I find that quite thought rather sad, there was nothing at all sad about Mary, who bid us farewell and went back to her duties.

One of her young colleagues was holding a bowl to collect alms as we left.

As you can imagine, the conversation on the way home centred on the lives of monks and nuns here.  Most boys become monks for two short periods in their lives and some remain in the monastery permanently.  I seem to think it’s not quite so commonplace for nuns to do the same, but certainly we’ve seen some very little girls who have taken their place in a nunnery for who knows how long.  Hmm.

So Aung shared his experiences as a monk, telling us how he benefitted and why he chose to do it – and why he chose not to stay.  All fascinating stuff.

This deep and rather serious conversation was interrupted by the charming pair in the tollbooth, who waved and smiled “mingalabar” as we peered into their little office.

A little further up the road was one last call for the day and it happened to be somewhere right up my street.

The silk weaving workshop was at the back of a small storefront and inside were a dozen or so looms mostly being operated by a pair of young women.

What we were able to see here is the traditional Mandalay style of weaving, which we would classify as tapestry or pick up weaving.

Each young woman had her pattern pegged in front of her and two pegs to mark her place.

As many as two hundred small shuttles were in use at a time, each one creating the smallest part of the overall pattern.

The colours of the silk were gorgeous.

Many had just a touch of metallic glitz in the pattern too.  Beautiful.

I imagine it’s quite difficult for two pairs of hands to work on the same piece – after all, we all work to a particular tension and maybe work at a different pace to someone else.  But these women seemed to be getting along just find and looking closely, it was impossible to see the join!

Some were working on a different traditional pattern.

whilst others had gone for a rest.  This was such close and detailed work, I would think it needs a high level of concentration not to mention perfect eyesight.

The exit was – you’ve guessed – through the gift shop but surprisingly, not a single piece of the work we saw being completed was on sale.  My guess is the price was beyond the purses of those passing through, but it would have been good to have had the opportunity to take home the smallest of pieces. 

Anyway, with the best of timing, my camera battery flashed empty and since my spare one was in the minibus, the photos of the shop are still in my hero’s camera.  They might appear here sometime soon!

and finally, in Yangon today

Where were we?  Oh yes, in the market, when Sanda, our guide was feeling peckish as we passed this snack stall.  What she bought, we have no idea, but it was tasty and just that right balance between savoury and sweet.

Maybe you know what it is?

The way out was through the shoe department. No, not really our place today but we know of several who would have been interested…

There was plenty of choice, to match any outfit!

The next stall put diamonds on the soles of my shoes!  The whole floor was glittering with sparkles.

A giggle came from the pretty young woman who was decanting sequins into smaller packages and spilling them onto the floor.  Clearly she’d been doing this for a while!

There was also the unmistakeable buzz of a sewing machine coming from next door.  Good old trustworthy Singers going at full speed, creating matching tops to those longyi the ladies had been buying.

Of interest to me too was the little red machine, because I couldn’t quite work out what it was until I spotted the blue waste there underneath it.  It’s an industrial serger/overlocker.

Out onto the pavement then, to meet Dan somewhere along here, past the vegetable stalls

another one selling those kinds of things that blokes buy.

And three puppies for sale in a basket.

Oh, and the inevitable cafe, too.

We jumped in the car and sped off into the next traffic jam just yards away and made our very slow way to the National museum.  Difficult to blog about that because no photos were allowed – no cameras or cellphones allowed anywhere near the place, actually, but suffice to say that considering it’s a new structure the inside is pretty dull and dusty.  And since we’ll see many of the exhibits for real in the next few days, we didn’t stay long.  What we did see though, is the regalia worn by the 19th century queen – wow.  Rather like those puppets we saw earlier, the costumes were created from small articulated pieces, each edged and trimmed with bright sequins in spite of the age.  Beautiful, original and totally unlike anything I’ve seen before, at some point I’ll find a photograph to share – for my own records actually, because although I tried to draw them I didn’t really do them justice.

After an hour back at the hotel, were we waited for the heat to go, we met Sanda and Dan again and made the last visit of the day to the Shwedagon Pagoda as the sun was setting.

No shoes, no spaghetti blouses…

Thankfully, cool tiles to walk upon.

The first greeting was the “Tuesday people”, volunteers, born on a Tuesday who took turns to clean the grounds.  Tomorrow, it’ll be the Wednesday team and so on.

This enormous pagoda is the highlight of Yangon’s temples.  It contains three relics, though we saw none.  What we did see – and photograph – is the most glorious golden structure imaginable, set off by the fading light as the sun set.

Magical.

We took picture after picture, wanting to treasure those lovely shapes forever.

Eventually, it was time to go.

Oh go on then…just one more

Dinner at the hotel was an all Burmese affair.  Absolutely delicious but bearing in mind we have to be ready at 4.30am tomorrow morning for a 6am flight, we didn’t linger.

Travelling like this is not for cissies, that’s for certain!

The second Burmese word is…

Kzeh-zu ba .  Thank you.

Believe me, we felt thankful when we reached the other side of that road, having stood for several minutes in the middle of a six lane highway where the traffic might not have been moving as fast as it could have been, but the lack of strict driving standards meant we needed to be our guard.  I stood “downroad” of Dan, our driver, who knew what he was doing and had surely done this a few times before.

Our next stop was a temple – the Sule pagoda, the first of a series of such buildings we’re scheduled to visit in the next few days.  Here, the claim to fame was a few strands of Buddha’s hair, set within the gilded heart of the pagoda itself.

Sanda took us straight to it, through a labyrinth of triangular passageways which form the eight compass points around the central reliquary.  There were plenty of other pilgrims including people who had travelled for a considerable time to be here, so I felt pretty awkward taking up their valuable space when for me, it was a simple sightseeing expedition.  So, we hung back a little, did our best to explain that though we appreciated the significance of the relic, surely these people deserved to be there so much more than we did.

But it’s a fine line to tread.  We didn’t want to be disrespectful to Sanda, or to let her think that we were dismissive of this potential highlight of the tour, so we simply went with the flow and made sure those who were clearly excited to reach their goal were able to do so without a couple of foreigners getting in their way.

So this is as close as we got.  For sure, the Buddha’s hair is in there somewhere, but this isn’t a photo of it, I’m fairly certain.

Instead, we majored on the golden rooms, walking around each one in turn and feeling like we were walking in a straight line when we were actually walking around the eight compass points and making our way through identical spaces until we reached the place where we’d started.

We made our way through the glass mosaic entrance hall and out through the side door to a kind of garden, where there were ponds with turtles to feed.

People were throwing shredded lettuce in there faster than the turtles could eat it and surely, by the end of the day someone would need to sift some of it out again.

Though actually, the main goal for most of these visitors was the statue of the temple God at the end of the pathway, which seemed to be particularly important to the Thai visitors who were here in number.

Again, we hung back giving them a chance to make their offerings and giving me a chance to take one or two quiet photos of the goings on.  Most of it appeared to be cellphone based activity!

In the queue, people were perusing their collections of selfies taken at the temple and taking more of themselves and their friends.

Some were about to make their offering but appeared to be interrupted.

Others were taking a break to catch up on Facebook, perhaps?

Whilst others were possibly neglecting their duties, distracted by the ever present temptation to play a game, listen to music or watch the latest Bruce Lee video (actually, that was the elevator operator in the last temple we visited this afternoon!)

In the meantime, the crowds had cleared and we were able to get a clear view of the statue they’d come to see.  We could also see how they folded a note (dollar bill?) into a conical shape around what looked like a eucalyptus leaf and then slotted it inside the notes which were already there between the God’s fingers.  Having made their prayer, they retrieved the now blessed leaf and took a few more photographs.

Oh, and discarded any surplus material into the bin alongside.

In the same space on the opposite side of the pagoda was another, smaller structure with smaller temples around it focussed on the days of the week.  Today being Tuesday, those born on a Tuesday would attend and make an offering at their particular little temple.

I was born on a Sunday, so I took an interest in that particular corner of the yard.

We took a quick look inside the hall opposite where another statue of buddha sat overlooking a large carpeted area, his head surrounded by a halo of multicoloured neon lights, but by now, we were ready to move on.  It was getting pretty hot by now so we stepped very carefully, barefoot, across the tiled spaces and out to the car where we’d left our shoes.

Our next stop involved a drive across the city and several traffic jams too.  One of the jams was around a high school where students had been sitting one of their final exams this morning.  Supportive parents were waiting outside for their offspring who milled around in white and green school uniform, looking relieved.

The traffic jams were endless.  Dan must have used every gram of patience as we sat for ages waiting for something to move.  Eventually, we reached the Botataung Pagoda, our next stop.

Not really a pagoda at all but an enormous shed set in a monastery complex, build to house the huge reclining buddha you see above.  The Buddha is made of bricks and plaster and has glass eyes.  He’s also got birds nesting in his nostrils!

Beautifully made and rather elegant in form, the figure is too big to do justice in a photograph really.  He’s wearing eyeshadow and has painted nails and lipstick too, not to mention the most beautifully shaped and decorated robes.

The folds of the “fabric” are so well shaped that it’s difficult to believe it’s only plaster underneath that gold paint.

The border of the robe is created from a glass mosaic – lovely.

But what we’ve never seen before are the soles of his feet.  Never have we realised that he has such a significant footprint, that the symbols are all set out in a particular format and can be interpreted too.

Anyway, having seen the reclining Buddha from head to toe, it was time to move on.

Our next stop was the market – formerly known as Scotts Market, it’s now called Bogyoke Market and finding ourselves in yet another jam, Dan let us out in the middle of the road and we walked the last stretch.

It was a bright and airy space, without the aroma of fresh meat and fish to give it that unmentionable atmosphere.  Here was jade a-plenty, gold, lacquer ware and…

 

underwear!

No, come on…we carried straight on past all of that and cut to the chase that was the fabric!  first, Sanda took us to see fabric woven by the Chin people in the far west of the country.  They weave using cotton, so the resultant fabric is quite heavy and warm.  It’s also patterned on one side but plain on the other.  Clever, eh?

We have some cushions in our room made from such fabric.  It’s attractive and distinctive but not really what I was after.

What was I looking for?  Well, not any of this synthetic yardage in bright colours, really.  But it’s hard not to look, especially when there is so much of it!

Most is cut into longyi lengths, pieces of around 2 metres which can be made into the wrap around skirts worn by the women here (and also, in different, more masculine patterns, by the men)

As you can imagine, the colour and texture drew me in and I could have happily spent the rest of the day there.

But heroes get achy backs from time to time and of course, we had other things to do, so however tempting the pile of noodle salad looked, we weren’t really in for a rest at this time.

We were focusing on fabric, these patterns being of Burmese origin and typical of the style here – but sadly, not really easily translatable to something I’d wear at home.

As small distraction came in the form of some small bags which looked remarkably similar to some I have at home, bought from the Lisu women we stayed with years ago in Northern Thailand.  Sure enough, they’re made by members of the same tribe here in Myanmar, as were the cross stitches bags associated with the Akha women.

All very tempting but I was after a longyi and there were still a few (hundred) fabric stalls we hadn’t looked at.

Hang on a minute though, there’s a little chanting, some gentle pushing (or was it squeezing past) and a group of Buddhist nuns went on their merry way, collecting alms from various stalls.  Never a dull moment here!

My eye fell on what looked suspiciously like a pile of Kaffe Fassett style cotton.  Maybe this was what I was after for my longyi?

Better still, there were some rather lovely ikat woven pieces I preferred and in no time at all, I had satisfied my shopping needs.  One longyi purchased…US$4.

Good grief.  I should have bought two.  Three even!

Mission accomplished, we made our way back to the car, passing these puppets along the way.  I’ve included them here because they relate pretty well to something we saw in the museum a little later on, but as no cameras were allowed inside, I thought I’d include them here.

I think I’m going to need a third post to finish of the day!  See you in the next one.

A day’s work

There’s been a four part series on the Bernina blog, about machine quilting and painting a feather wreath.  Of course, it’s “my” colours, so hit all the buttons and I bookmarked it in my brain, thinking I’d have a go at it sometime.  But recent trials of my free machine quilting skills have not gone so well and I really doubted my ability to create such a beauty, so I’ve hung fire a while.

But just a minute.  Haven’t I got some rather clever software in which I could draw out such a design and stitch it automatically?  Couldn’t I use a little practice in using that software, since the arrival of the cutwork and other clever things have overshadowed it of late?  I thought about it for all of five minutes and with a day at home, I cracked on right away this morning.

I started by drawing it all out in Photoshop and importing the drawing to the Bernina software, but then had a “duh” moment and started again.  This time, I drew a single feather loop and used the “wreath” tool to create the circular pattern.  Clever!  (the software, not me!)

I used the wreath tool several times more, each time finding it a really powerful means of creating an even, symmetrical design.  I watched the “slow redraw” several times and was fairly happy with what I saw…except it did sew out in a strange order, and I wasn’t sure how to correct that.

By about four o’clock I was ready to begin stitching.  Yes, really, it had taken me almost the whole day to create the design – so much for those who think we just “press a button”!  I could wait no longer and just had to give it a try out.

Having stitched it, I got the Markal paintstiks out and chose a couple of colours.  I wasn’t too worried about colour by now – just wanted to get it done!

By five o’clock, I was ready to set the colours with the iron and sit back.

Sit back and look a little closely at all the small things I wish I’d done differently, that is.  It’s not bad as a starting point but it needs more work; of that I am certain.

Bernina machine embroidery friends (you know who you are!), prepare for the arrival of an email with a small attachment shortly.  I’m hoping that you will be able to bring your skills and experience to the party and show me where I went wrong!!

Sometimes, more brains are better than one.