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!

Friday morning adventure

We began the day with a demonstration from our chef.  Formerly of the Mandarin Oriental Hotel in Bangkok, he’s an utterly charming gentleman and takes every opportunity to chat and ask how we’re enjoying his food.  Needless to say, he gets a good deal of very positive feedback.

This morning, he was going to show us how he prepares a green chicken curry.

He handed round ingredients one by one.  Some were familiar, some less so – this is galangal.

By the time he’d got everything nicely under way, the restaurant was filled with the unmistakeable and very appetising aroma of lemongrass, coconut and all the spices of green chicken curry.  We were eager to sample, of course, and bowls of sticky rice were there in our hands in no time, ready and waiting!  The challenge will be to recreate that fantastic – and not so difficult, it seems – dish at home, won’t it?

Slightly fortified by that small snack, we were ready to take on the morning and the steep and rather rickety gangplank was just the start of the adventure.

We had no idea what to expect apart from that we were going to visit a bamboo factory here in Myinmu.

It was the mode of transport that came as a surprise!

Fitting large western bottoms into narrow, Asian spaces isn’t easy but somehow we all managed it and safely wedged in, off we set.

Our drivers called to one another as they went, surely comparing notes about the enormity of the load they each had to pedal along!

As we passed by, people waved, called “Mingalabar!” and smiled broadly.

The nine of us passing by made quite a stir!

I’d like to say we passed through lovely countryside, but sadly, the plastic bag and the plastic bottle has done for this landscape as it has for many others.

At one point, it was almost like passing through a landfill site – which maybe it was?

Eventually, we all squealed to a halt and we were here at our destination.  We eased ourselves out of the seats and jumped down, feeling a little stiff from the ride.  I hope our drivers were able to take a long, cool drink after their labours!

The owner of the factory appeared the minute we entered the yard and was introduced to us by Aung.  Her diminutive size was not indicative of her power – we got the impression she wielded a big stick around here!

We were going to see how fence panels and similar things were made from the bamboo which is farmed here and bought by the factory owner in its natural state.

It has to stand for a while, for the water to run out of the bottom and for the length of wood to dry out.

Then it’s cut and thinned down to particular lengths, depending on the eventual product.  This chap was making wall panels for houses.  He was working quickly and accurately, because like all the other workers here, he was on piecework.

It must be hard on the hands and physically tiring work, especially in this heat.

Around the corner, some wood was being cut. We health and safety people felt uncomfortable watching that, I can tell you.

Our next stop was the fun corner.  This was where a group of women made roof panels but right this minute none of them was here.

Madame explained that she’d called them all off to help with something different, but she whistled and they all returned to their normal task, weaving narrow but longish lengths of bamboo.  Like the other workers, they’re on piecework, too.

We smiled and greeted them and watched them work.

We were particularly concerned about the process of cutting the slats, however, which involved a huge cleaver.

They were working quickly and that huge blade seemed to come very close to bare feet and fingers.  Did they ever have an accident?  If so, how could they work – did they get sick pay?  Well, the answer seemed to be that Madame paid for any treatment which was needed, but that was as far as we could understand.  So the question of sick pay went unanswered.

But then I noticed the carrier bags hanging up here and there.  Strangely, they were all empty…

Of course, it wasn’t the bag that was hanging up but the picture on it!  I winked at one, gave a thumbs up in the direction of the bag and the giggles started.  Oh yes, a handsome man to gaze at makes the hours go by a little more happily!

Leaving the girls chattering, we moved on just around the corner where the master craftsman was at work.  Actually, a brother and sister working as a team, he cutting, she weaving this beautiful wall panel, evenly woven without a gap anywhere.  Needless to say, this pattern and quality demands the highest price and they the highest wages.

I especially liked the way the different shades of bamboo work together to form the herringbone pattern.

Mind you, I am easily distracted by the small details anywhere, including the head on this sweeping brush.  isn’t it lovely?

As we said goodbye to Madame and to the eighth grade schoolboy earning a little extra cash on a holiday job, cutting short lengths of bamboo ready for the roof panel girls to use, the trishaw cyclists were gathering their strength for the ride home.

Appropriately, Aung’s driver wore the yellow jersey!

We made a brief stop at an animist temple on the way back.

This one is the temple of the white horse and Aung pointed out how he knew.

Of course, when we looked, it was obvious!

We took a different route back, this time along the riverbank.

We could see Andanda moored, not so far away.  It was nearly lunchtime!

Just when we thought we were nearly there, we turned left and back into the village though – of course, our drivers needed to return to the trishaw stop, so we hopped out there and walked back down to the riverside.

As usual, there was plenty going on there.  Never a dull moment around here!

Along the Ayerarwady

After our morning market visit, we headed back to the Ananda and prepared to sail upriver.

It was going to be a hard day.

Well, not for us, perhaps, but for the people working along the river, there was indeed plenty to do, like moving some grass, for example. 

There didn’t seem to be much growing on these sandy riverbanks and yet there was a lot to move – and a fair few people to move with it.  Everyone was involved!

The river is really wide here and both sides are broad sandy flats.  There are a few people here and there in simple shelters, but we can’t work out if these are permanent homes or mere temporary shelters.

Sometimes, there’s a bit of vegetation holding the sand together, though we notice that whenever the water laps up to the shore, a bit of the bank disappears.

No wonder this is tricky navigation business. 

We have a government pilot on board, our captain is well versed in the way of the river and there are two more officers on the bridge, working from a radar, a sonar depth meter and equipped with binoculars.

A little further along, we come across this ship which has run aground.  The crew call over to ours and information is shared about the location of the deeper water.

A man with a stick goes along to check.

We have our own man with a stick too – perhaps they compare notes?

Ananda has a very shallow draught so we continue on our way, passing small communities and enjoying the peace and quiet.

We pass underneath an enormous bridge which could be the Anawrahta Bridge, at Chauk.

I am interested to see what people are doing as we pass them by.  I’m trying to catch up on my journal as we go but every so often, I grab my camera and leap up to take a picture.  Others are lounging about, reading or simply sitting snoozing whereas I am up and down like a yoyo!

Everything seems to take place by the river.  Bathing, washing the clothes, playing about, washing up.

We pass a few small temples too, useful landmarks.

Speaking of which, we have a landmark of our own – it’s lunchtime already!

After lunch, Aung talked a little about the longyi, the traditional dress of Myanmar.  We’ve each been given one as a gift and now was the time to find out how to wear it.

The gentlemen here look very elegant dressed in the traditional way, though we find it amusing how they untie it from time to time and waft it about a bit in the air before retying – they remain perfectly modest, because it’s stitched together without a gap.

Next, Timmy shows us how to tie the ladies’ version.

Rather than being made into a simple, straight tube of fabric, the ladies’ longyi has a couple of darts to emphasise her figure.  Timmy looked really lovely in hers but I can’t say the same for the rest of us lumpy western women!

She also did a demonstration of the thanaka paste and painted our faces in different styles.  It felt cool at first but as it dried, felt more like an old fashioned clay face mask!

Time for a snooze?  Well, possibly, but Tim had offered to show us behind the scenes and we were just too curious to refuse the invitation.

Going through the door marked “Staff only” we took a quick look at the water purification plant.

We moved swiftly on through the crew quarters

took a quick look in the laundry

peered into what might have been the air conditioning plant…

and with ear protectors firmly in place, went down into the engine room.

The Ananda has pods, just like the ocean going ship we’ll be joining next week.

Tim lifted a hatch so we could see one in action.

From up there on the bridge, we could see we were nearing our mooring for the evening.

The crew were ready and able to jump into action!

As soon as another boat got out of the way, that is.

There was a little welcome party waiting, as well.

Maybe they knew the crew would have a little something for them?

Though we were finished for the day and ready to go and change for dinner, others still had work to do, collecting water.

and carrying it home.  Who knows how far?

Others had things to carry home.

But the world over, there’s nothing like a cool dip at the end of a busy day,  is there?

And a beautiful sunset to round off a fascinating day on the river.

To market

The plan this morning was to go off to the local market at Nyaung u, where Ananda is berthed, so immediately after breakfast, we gathered in the lobby and went off with Aung to see what’s what.

One of the challenges is the continual requests to buy postcards, lacquer wares and other small things, often from children.  Education here isn’t compulsory and there is a cost – books and uniforms are needed but not provided, so many children don’t go to school and in rural areas in particular, rates of illiteracy are high.  Now, if I thought for one moment that buying a set of postcards from a child would enable her to go to school, then I’d be there but sadly, it’s not that simple, is it?

 

Our arrival at the market car park brought a rush of postcard sellers to the door then and it took a while for us to make our way into the market.  This area appears to be a centre for pottery and there was a fine selection of all kinds of functional pots outside this workshop, just across from the market proper.

Aung explained that most women shop daily.  Few families have fridges and prefer to buy their food in small quantities, fresh from the market.  So, it was a bustling place this morning and the things on offer looked appetising and fresh – to begin with, at least.

There were more children there than usual too, because the school holidays have just begun.  This boy and his Mum were comparing notes on their phones – I hope they get a better signal than we do right now!

Perhaps you’ve noticed in my photos, that the women of Myanmar wear a kind of yellow chalky substance on their face?  Worn instead of make up, it’s a skin care product, sunblock and decorative make up all in one and almost all women and many children wear it in some form or other.  This woman is selling it in its traditional form – a small log from which the bark can be ground to a paste with a few drops of water.  Ready mixed varieties are available too but I understand that few women her would consider using anything but the original freshly ground form.

Other traditional items were on sale here such as these woven balls, used for the traditional game of what sounds like “keepy uppy”.  To play, groups of people stand in a circle and try to keep the ball moving for as long as possible but the balls themselves are rather decorative, aren’t they?

Onions seem to be in season, for every second vegetable stall was full of them!

A little further on was a stall full of traditional puppets, including to grey “Kings”, wearing that particular style of outfit we had seen in the museum and  I tried to describe yesterday.

Around now, we realised that it was no accident that there was an empty can on the basket of rather attractively coloured beans here.  Measurements are simple and the milk can is a pretty standard measure of volume for dry goods such as this.

This lady wasn’t the only one using batteries as a weight measure, too.  People as so inventive, aren’t they?

I loved the way the betel nut leaves are arranged with such precision.

A little further on, there was a cafe, where the chef had an air of insouciance, wouldn’t you say?

These young men were catching up on the latest news over a cup of something and a snack.

But Aung had already moved along and was by the rice stall, explaining about the different types of rice and how it’s sold.  Eight small milk cans make up one of the larger measures, which costs $1 and will feed a family of four lunch and dinner for two days.

 

Walking quickly through the market was good to avoid the persistent sellers, but not so good for making observations!

Still, we had time to see the way of life and the woman making and selling green papaya salad here.

The beans this chap was moving were “owl beans” but we had no idea of what they’re known as elsewhere – maybe you know?

At this point, we turned right and into the rather fragrant part of the market: The fish and meat department.

I’m generally ok with this kind of thing but even so, I didn’t really want to linger.  These two young women were preparing the fish, taking off scales the size of pennies.

Elsewhere, people sat chatting, offering a cheery “mingalabar” as we passed and happy for us to take photographs.

Some posed beautifully without even knowing it.

Turning around to return through the meat and fish, we were making our way back to the car park.

No eggs or washing powder needed today.

Leaving one small boy waiting for a playmate, we were off once again, for it was getting near lunchtime.

On the way back, though, Aung had another place he thought would interest us.  Can you guess what’s made here?

The core material is bamboo.

This family make fans, specifically for advertising or for special occasions such as weddings, naming ceremonies and suchlike.

They sell for 500 for $10.  A lot of work for little gain, I’d say.

But the women and girls were happily chatting over their work and were very quick at their job!  This young girl could apply the paper “binding” in no time, achieving a really neat finish.  I guess she gets a lot of practice.

We were each given a fan as a gift, and Aung explained what occasion we were celebrating.

Mine was a souvenir from a wedding

A most attractive young couple, wouldn’t you say?

I always love visiting such places, seeing how people live their lives and especially love the colour and atmosphere. This had been no exception, but it was good to see the Ananda waiting for us, with a cool towel and a lovely “Welcome back” at the top of the gangplank! 

(here should be a photo of Ananda, and not the local ferry in the picture above!  Guess who didn’t remember to take that photo?!)

Sunset

It’s still Wednesday, I think, and we’d been promised the best vantage point to see the sun set over the temples of Bagan.  Even though we’d been up since 3.30 (and were beginning to feel like it, too) we really didn’t want to miss this highlight.

We drove through the old part of Bagan, back into the temple area and made our way to the Shwegugyi pagoda from where Aung assured us we’d have a great view.

He was right.  We climbed up the steep steps to the base of the pagoda and joined a few other tourists to stand and wait.  Whilst we did, we were offered T shirts, terrible paintings of monks, lacquerwork and all kinds of other tourist stuff – Bagan really does hold the ticket for being pestered with people selling stuff.

Being in such a beautiful place was a real privilege and the opportunity to chat to our travelling companions was fun.  All widely travelled, interesting and from different corners of the globe, the conversation never palled.  And of course, we all had one thing in common: We were thrilled to be here.

So it didn’t really matter that it wasn’t a spectacular sunset.  As the minutes passed, it was clear that the haze was going to overwhelm the view and that we weren’t going to get any of those classic photographic images tonight.

We didn’t mind one bit.  How could we, when we were standing in such an amazing place?

More people were arriving, by all manner of transport, some leaving it until the very last minute to arrive,

The sun was going to wait for no one, but it was the early birds who’d got the best view and seen the clearest sights.

We didn’t wait until the sun actually set, but headed on down those steep steps when it was still light enough to see where we were going.  Actually, someone had lit candles all the way down, which was extraordinarily thoughtful and much appreciated.

A small surprise lay ahead for us.  Whilst we’d been gone, the Ananda had moved from the riverside mooring to a nearby sandbank, so our return journey was by local speedboat.  After a quick shower and change, we assembled in the bar for what I referred to as the lifeboat drill, but which Guest Relations Manager Tim correctly called the Champagne Reception.  It did bear some passing resemblance to a lifeboat drill in that the correct use of a lifejacket was demonstrated, but the general advice was that the river is too shallow for the boat to sink and that possibly, the best action to take in the case of our taking on water is to head upstairs to the bar and order a cocktail!

Fortified with a couple of glasses of champagne, we stepped back out on board the speedboat with a little more confidence, because dinner tonight was served on the sand, where a torchlit dining room had been set up ready.

As we approached the beach, fireworks were lit and the most magical atmosphere set for what was to be a truly memorable occasion.

Dining under the stars, we enjoyed the company of a delightful couple and ate the best meal so far.  The Ananda chef was formerly at the Mandarin Oriental in Bangkok and his culinary expertise is legendary.  After a starter of assorted salads and suchlike, we progressed to a stir fry set up and cooked by the man himself.  The idea was, we were to gather our chosen ingredients and he would cook them as requested – except I had no idea what to choose, so I asked him to create something for me.

Wow.

I have no idea what he did to make those few simple ingredients taste so good.  A spoonful of this (oyster sauce?) a little of that (“seasoning”) and the end result was spectacular.

The evening went so fast, in no time at all we were being advised that we might like to make our way to the boat again, for a jolly ride back to the Ananda.  The strange thing is, when we woke this morning, she was back in her original mooring even though we never felt her move at all.

Maybe it was all a dream?