Partial Update of Missing Entries from Myanmar

I've gone back and typed some of the missing entries from my time in Kerala. I will post them here. Later, I hope to post the remaining portion of them

Saturday, Sept. 17, Meiktila to Inle Lake (Full Moon Night)

The hotel served breakfast on the deck overlooking the lake. It was the usual fare for hotels here, but the setting was nice.

The owner of the hotel drove me to the bus station. I caught a bus leaving just as we arrived at 7:30. It was a long trip with mechanical trouble for 45 minutes and a flat tire again.

I had something happen that can occur anywhere, but it is always a disappointment when it occurs. I asked the bus to let me of at Schenyaung Junction. I didn’t know it at the time, but they let me off at a different intersection—one for a highway going to the other side of Inle Lake. There was a taxi driver who camup up to thebus to get me and my luggage. I’m sure it was pre-arranged. If they had let me off where I requested, there would have been trucks I could take (which means I wouldn’t need a taxi), but they thought, I imagine, that I would be forced to take the taxi from there—at a high rate and probably with a kick-back to the bus people. But it was me and not someone else. I refused to pay and started walking. (I knew it was supposed to be 11 km to town, but that was from where I was SUPPOSED to be. From where I actually was, it was probably 20 km (12 miles). Fortunately, a commercial truck picked me up and brought me to the intersection where I needed to turn off to get to Nyaungshwe. But I had to walk the last 5 km (3 miles) with my luggage over an unpaved back road. I’m glad I didn’t fall for their trick, however. I’m sure the talk of the town tonight had to be about the tourist who WALKED to town on the back road!

There is a nice French couple staying at my hotel. His name is Jan, and we visited on the balcony for a long time after I arrived. He’s a saxophonist who travels with a famous French singer (Mano Solo), also has his own band, and has recorded the muic for French film soundtracks. His wife is a medical student who ws having stomach problems and only visited for a short time. They recommended a restaurant which I tried—one whose owner learned to make pasta from a tourist who later sent him a pasta machine. I had pasta with an eggplant sauce. It was good. He also makes caipirinhas using the local sugar cane run. I tried one of those also. It was passable, but it wasn’t authentic.

On the way back to the hotel, I met Chit Htwe, a 20-year-old trishaw driver. He had no business, so he walked with me and visited. Of course, he’s wanting to make money off me in some way, but he was charming and nice to talk with. I’m sure I will see him every day, and he will have proposals for things to do. He has already told me that he leads 3 day/2 night treks between here and Kalaw, so that’s one thing he is hoping I might decide to do. I imagine he’s a go-getter who usually makes money off the people he pursues.

It was a tiring day, and my room is too dark for comfortable reading. I’m off to bed although it is only 9 p.m.

Sunday, Sept. 18, Inle Lake

I didn’t sleep as well as I would have liked last night. Some religious nut was chanting over a loud speaker. He reduced his volume about 10:30, but I still heard him when I took out my earplugs at 1:30! Also, I was having lots of drainage from my cold causing me to swallow constantly. Therefore, I am rather tired and lazy today.

I got up at 7:00. The sun was shining brightly, and there was noise from the canal below my window. The small street along this canal is very busy with local traffic. Many boats are being loaded and unloaded along it, and it seems to be the starting point for boats that serve as buses to the villages along the lake shore.

This is rice harvesting season here. As I walked into town yesterday, rice was being cut. And the rice that had been cut earlier and had dried was being thrashed on the road to remove the seeds. It’s also tomato season. Many huge baskets of tomatoes were being removed from boats this morning for sale at the market, I guess.

I walked for about two hours this morning. I stayed within the village. Mainly, I watched people—a schoolyard with the students in their emerald green bottoms and white tops all lined up for assembly outside, two women bathing a naked boy of about 3 years of age on a platform at the side of a river, two young men bathing and swimming in a lake, two men in a conoe using sycles to clear underwater growth along the edge of the lake, people walking along the streets, a group of five women having an animated, loud, and happy discussions on the porch of a house, etc.

Althought it’s Sunday, life is normal here today. Like in some other parts of Asia, weekends are not recognized. Instead, there are two “off” days a month—full moon day and new moon day. In other words, people have to work and have school except for two days a month. Yesterday was full moon day, so the schools and the market were closed. It was a good day for me to be traveling, although many independent shops and almost all restaurants were open anyway.

While walking, I toured the Shan Museum—a local museum in the building that was the palace for the local royal family. It is a huge building with soaring ceilings and large open-sided rooms. It’s built entirely of wood (probably teak), and there are portraits of the former kings and queens, clothing they wore, throne beds the used, etc., as well as exhibits of local bamboo household items, fishing equipment, long boats, farming equipment, etc. The building itself was more interesting to me than the exhibits, however.

Being tired from last night, I returned to the hotel around 11:00. It’s good I did, because it began to rain about noon. By 1 p.m., there was heavy rain and thunder. I’m glad I’m here and not on a boat trip on the lake or bicycling (like the French couple). Instead, I have a cozy room or the balcony to enjoy my novel.
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I finished In America by Susan Sontag (3 ½ stars out of 4). I found the first chapter to be strange because of the character who tells it. After that, however, it was a direct story that was interesting and well written.

I said good-bye to the French couple and gave them the Sontag book. They are moving on to Mandalay. Then I went for massage.

Although the man says there are several generations in his family who have given massage, he was not very talented. In fact, he did something even I know should not be done: putting all his weight directly on my backbone. I’m sure my friend Mark who just finished massage training in London would be aghast at that and some of the other techniques he used. If he had done a good job, I might have gone back.

I followed that with the worst meal I’ve had in Myanmar. I didn’t know that chicken could be tough. But mine wasn’t chewable. And the soup had absolutely no flavor. What a disappointment to have my only meal of the day, other than breakfast at the hotel, be so bad!

Monday, Sept. 19, Inle Lake

It’s 6 a.m. and I’m up. I go to bed early here, because the lighting is too dim for me to read at night. I awoke just a moment ago to the sound of a drum. Today is market day here (every 5th day except for full moon and new moon days) when the indiginous people come from their villages around the lake and from the hills to sell their items. I expect that the boats bringing those from around the lake will be docking in the canal outside my hotel, so I will watch them arrive within the next hour or so.

Unfortunately, we are having tropical rains. After a gorgeous sunset last night, I thought it might be clear today, but unbelievably heavy rains returned furing the night. I could hear it even while wearing my earplugs. Right now it’s raining like a heavy rain in Texas or Denmark. Last night for much of the night the rain was falling 2-3 times faster.
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It’s 8 a.m., and the boats have been arriving for two hours. This place is alive with people. It’s going to be an exciting day. And for the last hour there has been no rain. That makes it even better.

I’m beginning a new book today: A Way in the World by V. S. Naipaul. He’s supposed to be an excellent writer, but I think this will be the first book I have read by him.
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Chit Htwe has had a busy day with his trishaw. He probably makes half or more of his income on market days. As I walked to the market, I looked for him at his usual place and he was gone. I tried wandering the market, but I felt I was in the way of the people trying to do business. People were in a hurry to do their shopping, and getting about was made even more difficult by the standing puddles in the narrow lanes and the open umbrellas many people were carrying. I got a good look at the fruits, flowers, vegetables, etc., however. Afterwards, I walked the exterior of the market. It was then I heard, “Randell,” (more with a “wr” beginning sound due to the difficulty Asians tend to have with r’s) and the ring of a bicycle bell. It was Chit Htwe returning from a trip. He parked at the corner and dashed across the street to the market losing his drying cloth (for the seat of the trishaw on this rainy day) off his shoulder. I picked up the cloth. By the time I was placing it on his trishaw, he was approaching it with two big baskets full of items and a woman. He was off again to take her home. A few minutes later as I walked in another part of town, there came Chit Htwe on his trishaw rushing back toward the market. I yelled that maybe we could visit later when he is no longer busy.

It’s 2:15 now, and the boats have been slowly departing since around noon. The rain has continued, so there isn’t much pleasure in people staying around after they have shopped or they have sold all that they brought to the market. Although there is a brightness to the sky, it doesn’t appear that the rain will stop. I’ve stayed at the hotel napping and reading rather than going back out. I would like the rain to end so I can either have one nice day here or have nice weather for leaving for Kalaw, my next stop.
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Well, tonight was very special. Chit Htwe told me that the women were singing to Buddha at his home and invited me to go there with him. We went across the street to a store where I bought tea and hard candies to take as a gift to his parents.

He lives on a muddy street near the edge of town in a woven bamboo home built on stilts. As we arrived, the singing was already going. I was warmly welcomed by his parents and family. About 23 people were there. The older women were sitting in a semi-circle around an alter at the center of one wall with candles and white flowers. There were also two smaller alters with candles and flowers in each corner. Everyone else was positioned on the floor behind the singers.

Chit Htwe’s family was so loving and beautiful. His father is an astrologist and is in his 50s with salt and pepper gray hair. His mother is slender and rather elegant in a simple way with her hair in a single long braid. His 23-year old brother is even more handsome than Chit Htwe. And the children! There were at least 8 children between 2 and 5 with the sweetest, cutest smiles. They are the children of Chit Htwe’s four brothers and three sisters. There were also aunts, uncles, and cousins present.

Chit Htwe and I were placed at a far wall. A small table was placed in front of us and covered with a tablecloth and a candle. His mother brought us a plate of rice curry and side dishes of faw garlic, raw peppers, and a chili pepper compound. We each had a spoon and fork and ate from the same plate. Then she brought another plate with stuffed dumplings. Everyone except the singers watched us as we ate. They were impressed when I immediately took some of the chili compound to eat with my food. We had hot tea in small glasses to drink. It was far better food than I have eaten in restaurants here. It was absolutely delicious.

I took a photo of the food. Then, after eating, I tried to get photos of almost everyone else. Chit Htwe will give me his addresss tomorrow so I can send copies of the photos to them after I return home.

The music lasted an hour. Then they all ate. The TV was turned on for them to watch a soap opera. I teased some of the children and talked with Chit Htwe and one of his brothers. Chit Htwe told me that he had gone to university for one year in a nearby city. But his father told him he had to drop out and drive a trishaw to help support the family. Chit Htwe is conflicted; he is happy to help take care of the family, but he has desires to travel and live a better life. A university degree probably wouldn’t have made a difference in his life, since he says he would have majored in history. What could he have done with at degree but teach? And teachers’ salaries here are only half the per capita income.

We left their home and ran into 5 of his friends at a street corner with a guitar. Chit Htwe grabbed the guitar and started playing and singing. Then they all started singing as he played various songs. Apparently he can naturally play any song he hears. We stayed there at least an hour with his friends laughing, joking, and singing. Then he walked me back to my hotel. We made plans to meet tomorrow night for me to get his address and to say good-bye. It was the best evening of this Asian trip!!!