From Diary 1 I head up towards the north as
close as possible to the eastern border - which is not that close.
The moped-driver is a no-show, and it take a bit of
asking around before I find another one, knowing the right bus station - or
rather restaurant. At first, I'm driven to a small busstation, and my ticket
is confirmed. Then I'm shown to the restaurant where I bought it the other
day. After some time, my ticket is exchanged into another one, but with same
destination and time. I get my usual seat #1, despite the bus is almost
full. The tourist seat? Anyway, much appreciated.
The restaurant was found right at the Yangon-Mandalay
Highway, and we follow it for three hours with around 100 km/t. It is a
perfect concrete, four-lane road practically with no traffic. Actually, I
think the most numerous vehicle is the oxen-wagons! We passes through swamps
and rice patches in a general green landscape. To the left, a low range of
hills are covered in bushes and small plantations of fruit trees. Scattered
among them are a few kapok-trees. Here are also palms, bananas, mangos? and
other familiar - but forgotten - fruit trees.
At three, we leave the big highway, and
head east on a narrow, badly maintained road. This one is on the other hand
pretty busy, and villages are scatted all along it. We make another
toilet/food brake at a rural restaurant in the middle of the fields. I use
the time to head out on a small botanising expedition. Besides from what
might be a local Jatropha, the most interesting plants I spot are
Madagascan - and as such not interesting.
We reach what appears to be a tourist visited town at
eight, and a friendly guy recommend me the Golden Lotus as a recently hotel.
So do the receptionist at a more fancy place and the host at a restaurant.
It is just a few hundred metres down the road, just in the centre of town,
and it look fine.
7/12 Despite I don't fall asleep before around
two, I have no problem being right awake at five. My little, wooden room in
a little wooden hut is filled with smoke. Then it start to smell a bit
like food, and I realises I am placed over the open, wood-fuelled
kitchen. Then I doze off again, only to be bright awake by the loud sound of
what through my ear-plugs sounds like fire. Then it is more like a massive
thunderstorm of water on my tin-roof.
I am looking so much forward to explore this mountainous
area, and see what interesting plants which can be found here. On the way, I
see a part of Kalaw, and especially their mirror-covered pagoda. It is a
sleepy town, and it does not have much to show, despite it was the English
summer capital, and now the centre of tracking. After two hours of tracking, I make it out to the
forest - and that is just another big disappointment: It is almost exclusive
pine trees - another invasive species. Small farms have cleared patches on
the hill-sides, but I fail to find anything interesting.
The plan was to spend another night here, but
considering the poor botanical value, the fact I have seen the town and the
state of my room in the morning, I start looking for a bus. A taxi driver
tells me the next one for Lake Inley leaves within ten minutes. I take that
as a sign, and rush back to get my bag. It is a mini bus, and after we
delivered four other passengers to their Kalaw hotels, we are only two left.
My travel companion is the smiling Italian Luigi, coming all the way from Bago.
We drive down the other side of the mountain, and it
is a significantly more boring tour. Quite flat, full of pine-trees. After a
hour and a half, we see the first bigger lakes at Lake Inley. One area is completely taken
over by some sort of sun-flower.
8/12 After spending most of the night feeling sorry for my self due
to the flue, the morning sun is a blessing. Breakfast on the roof, and then
Luigi and I are picked up by our boatman. Two Spaniels want to join, but I
rather have a small group. They can easily get their own boat. A quick drive
through town , and we can enter out longboat. A one stroke diesel engine
produces plenty of power end even more noise. To both sides of the huge lake, low mountain ranges are seen
through the morning mist. The surface of the lake is at almost 1000 metres
height. Soon, we meet some of the fishermen the area is known for. The stand
on their low boats on one leg, holding their fishing basket with the other.
Or, even more impressive, they actually paddle the boat with one leg,
standing on the other, using the hands for fishing.
Plenty of floating islands, made up by living plants floats around.
Unfortunately, the main material is made up by the South-American Water
Lily. The rest is grasses. Here are plenty of seagulls, some cormorants,
several different herons, Willy Wagtails, a few falcons, coots,
starlings, finches and others. The
first stop is at a silver smith. Myanmar have several silver mines, and
their tradition dates way back. We see how the melt small pieces and craft a
thick "coin". It is being hammered to a thin bawl with lots of delicate
ornamentations.
We head further into the swamps, and passes banana plants, flowering
morning-glories, grass and even trees. The next stop is a show-room/shop as
well. I not sure I understood much of the sales speak I got yesterday, but I
don't recall that many shops and that little nature or markets. And no
chance we can exchange a word with our captain!
The next time we pull over is at a black smith, making machetes. Then we
continues through the maze of overgrown mud banks. A stop at a shop with all
kind of weaved goods and a funny mahogany ball pen, I have to buy. Next stop
is a cigar factory.
They role these nicotine-free cigarillos by hand, and
sell them in small, wooden boxes for a fortune, compared with those looking
just like than, at the local shop. Luigi supports this shop, and I promises
to buy at the next - hoping for lunch. And it is!
Then we enter a whole village, a bit Venetian like. A huge, golden temple
have some small boulders, which men are putting gold leafs on. Everywhere around
the temple, Plexiglas boxes are filled with bank notes. I find it so hard
to combine the humble Buddhism with gold and bank notes! The entire area is
scattered with souvenir shops.
We reach another temple, this one more like I had expected. Dark inside,
numerous statures but only a single, fat monk in a beach chair. On the other
side, the souvenir shops are found. We have stopped supporting the locals...
At seven, I head back to town for dinner and a ticket for tomorrow. The
internet is not working, and I guess it is a general Myanmar problem. Down
town, I learn that the eastern area I planned to visit is closed to
foreigners. I have heard of one guy who went here breathily, and during the
night, he heard gunfire and an explosion. Guess I have to do without that
corner.
9/12 Another wasted night, and even the sun refuses to join in before
ten. As I can't make it to Kyaingtong and Mong La, I head towards Pyin Oo
Lwin. But the only daily bus leaves at 19;30, and I'm not that keen on night
rides. Plan C will be a de-tour around Mandalay, which I might as well see,
when I get there.
The first bit is through swamps and rice patches. Followed by the pine
forest, then it turns more green an lush, and giant trees are covered in
vines. Despite my best efforts to get a good photo, I end up with blurry,
partly window-framed mistakes. But it is a beautiful tour.
We reach Melktila at four, and I get a short ride with a horse-taxi, to the
ticket office. They can offer
me a ticket to Mandalay, and onwards in the
morning. Ten minutes later, I crammed into another minibus. I check my GPS,
and it seems like we take the western route. That means we will pass two of
my other sights, and I will jump off at the first.
The host offers me dinner, but he have only plane rice and sardine-sauce. I
walk back towards the junction, and get a lift by a moped. I actually get to
do the driving, and he a phone call, the five kilometres back. Here are many
food-stalls, and I get a big dish of fried rice with spices and roasted
beans, a huge dish fresh vegetables, a bowl of soup and a mug of almost
dissent tea. All for 1000 K.
I see clearly by going through my photos, I do fare from experience as much
as I use to do. By now, I use to have several hundreds photos of specific
plants, I have five... Further more, several days have been spend on
transport alone. I am convinced; this is caused by the fact, I have no car of
my own. When I drive myself, I can stop and explore wherever I want to,
making the transport a part of the expedition.
From the eastern as I could come, I head into the central part around
Mandalay in Diary 3 |
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