The Road to Mandalay

The local petrol station

Due to the over enthusiastic use of air-con on our overnight bus from Yangon we arrived in Mandalay at 5am, red eyed and disorientated from the lack of sleep.  Arriving early always leaves you open to getting stung by the waiting taxi drivers at the bus station but after a little haggling we were able to get a lift in a pick-up van. World over, asking a man for directions can only lead to trouble as regardless of whether they know the direction or not they will happily send you the wrong way rather than admit to their lack of knowledge.  Myanmar proved no exception and despite the driver’s assurances that he knew where to go we soon ended up lost among the unlit back roads of the city. With the help of some friendly locals we eventually arrived at the hotel and we were treated to an early check in and rooftop sunrise breakfast over the foothills of the Himalayas.  Despite the romantic notions that Rudyard Kipling conjures up in A Road to Mandalay the city is a sprawling, dusty collection of poor houses and dirt roads set around Mandalay Hill.  If not beautiful it is certainly captivating as huge golden pagodas rise out from the palm lined streets, trees and vines hide old colonial architecture and monks wearing Ray Bans and smoking cheroot cigars mingle with the day to day life around them.  The streets are teeming with commotion as mopeds weave in and out of the chaotic traffic whilst people amble along trying to plot the safest route to avoid the gaping holes on the pavement and the rickshaws that terrorise the roads.  I loved it!

The moat surrounding the former Palace

Inside one of Mandalay's Pagodas

Deciding that it was safest to walk rather than rent a push bike we set off from the hotel towards the Pagodas that surround Mandalay Hill.  Everywhere seemed to hide Buddhist temples and shrines which were surrounded by such an array of religious junk it might have even provided the catholic church with new money making ideas.   One of the most common sights when walking in Myanmar is the chewing of betel by almost every male who stand idly around in the shade spitting red saliva which stains the roads.  As we walked into town the smiling locals revealed the extent of the addiction in the city. Most men’s teeth are stained a reddish-black, dyed from years of chewing potent parcels of areca nuts and tobacco, wrapped in a lime-coated betel leaf.  Having tried it once I will never be trying it again!  Eventually we managed to negotiate the 30 minute walk without being run over, arriving at the 12 km moat that surrounds the former palace in the heart of the city.  At this point we discovered that the only entrance was on the far side of the area as the grounds were now used as a giant military base.  We decided against the walk and took a motor bike taxi around the edge to the civilian entrance, arriving into the centre of the base where a reconstruction of the wooden palace (it was destroyed in WW2) was still open to the public.  We strolled around the eerily empty wooden buildings before walking back through the base past a parade of soldiers, exercise yards and barracks. Our favourite religious site of the day (we lost count after 5) was visiting one of the last surviving Myanmar style monasteries called Shwe Kyaung.  The teak building was incredibly atmospheric and the building was covered in beautiful carvings and patterns.  It appeared to only still be standing via divine intervention though as rotted floor boards and crumbling columns creaked under our feet.  From here we climbed up Mandalay Hill, past impoverished families living alongside golden Buddha's with flashing halos to a viewpoint overlooking the flat plains and distant mountains that eventually rise up to the summit of Mount Everest.   

The countryside around the ancient city of Inwa

Having decided to stay an extra night in the city we hired a taxi for the day to drive us round the ancient towns surrounding Mandalay.  Our friendly taxi driver Ohnsein was surprisingly candid about the current regime and the problems living in Burma (he preferred to be known as Burmese), telling us about the increasing use of alcohol and the government selling off key resources to China who use their own labour rather than local workers.   He described the political situation as being a fake democracy and he seemed very despondent about the future of the country.  When the military dictatorship began, Myanmar boasted the first international airport in South East Asia, a strong economy and a vibrant culture.  Looking around Mandalay and Yangon all that is left are crumbling colonial buildings left to rot by the regime as economic sanctions have crippled the country.  On its western border Thailand has similar resources and yet boasts an economy four times as strong with modern infrastructure and booming tourism.  It is easy to see why the large scale Saffron demonstration in 2007 took place and continued civil unrest plagues the nation.

  

The hazy view form Sagaing Hill

As we left the city, Ohnsein was kind enough to show us some of the local craftsmen who make exceptionally detailed sculptures from marble and wood using just rusty hammers and chisels. Just outside of the city we stopped at a huge monastery complex that seemed to be a training centre for young monks. Every male is expected to take up residence in a monastery twice in their lives through which their families earns increased distinction.   To the untrained eye there seem to be two very distinct groups of monks that live within Myanmar, those that follow a strict, traditional faith and the younger monks that smoke, have tattoos and live alongside the rest of society.  Monks live on the donations from the poor and are meant to forsake temptation.  The modern monk seemed to me to be living a strange life of relative luxury in comparison to the poor locals and yet were revered as a respected class in society above those that they lived alongside.  This was emphasised when we stopped at Sagaing Hill where a series of monasteries, a hospital and a university complex lined the winding road up to the top of the hill that overlooks the surrounding area.   The breath taking view takes in giant Chinese and British steel bridges that span the Ayeyarwady River as well as the golden spires of hundreds of pagodas that punctuate the landscape.  It seemed to encompass perfectly the unique history of the country.

Our favourite stop of the day was taking a short boat ride to the ancient city of Inwa, set on a section of land cut off by rivers.  We took a two hour trip around the ancient city on a traditional horse and cart (after Hannah had vetted them to find a happy looking horse).  Despite gaining piles from the bumpy track we happily meandered past ancient brick temples and through lush green banana trees and emerald coloured paddy fields.  We were able to stop along the way at the huge Bagaya Kyaung monastery, made from 267 teak columns and Maha Aungmye Bonzan, a ruined stone temple set alongside the river.  Heading back towards the city we stopped at the longest teak bridge in the world (quite who measured them and why is a mystery) which measures 1300 yards and had a Myanmar Beer which has supposedly won a number of global awards, although these were spelt wrong!  As we watched the local fisherman and farmers ploughing the pastures alongside the river a tour group of middle aged Europeans drunk champagne from glass flutes on rowing boats in the river.  We decided to leave before it got too raucous but as we approached the taxi we were stopped by a protest towards the Thai Government about the flawed investigation that has recently found two Myanmar nationals guilty of the murder of a young English couple.  It transpires that the Thai embassy has been closed in Myanmar and land crossings between the two nations have gone from being difficult to impossible.  With disputes from its neighbours, stunted development and the military regime still firmly in control it seems the people of Myanmar still have a long road ahead of them.