Songkhran & Curly Sue

Every year around mid-April all the south-east asian countries celebrate their New Year, a raucous 5-day affair where the whole populace gets wet and wild, taking to the streets with super-soakers and buckets of water for the mother-of-all waterfights. In addition to the New Year festivities it's also a combined birthday celebration as in their cultures everyone turns a year older on the New Year, rather than an individual birthday.

Known as Thingyan in Burma, the water festival is an homage to the upcoming monsoon rains that will bring plentiful crops and a welcome break to the 40+ degree daily heat of April. We caught the first day of the festival in Yangon, as we woke witnessing kids outside our window chasing passers-by with buckets of water. One old guy sticks in my mind as I watched him slowly cycling down our road, unable to escape the bucket after bucket of water thrown at him by the excited children. Further into the centre of the city organisation was more prevalent as 'water stations' had been setup on the sides of the roads, which were basically barricades with huge supplies of water and several large hoses for soaking passing motorists.

In fact passing tuk-tuks would often deliberately stop in front of the water stations to ensure their passengers got a deserved drenching, as they had to ride around soaked all day.

Arriving in Thailand, there was much the same if not even wilder parties all over Bangkok - even in our quiet-ish neighbourhood on the outskirts it was back-to-back traffic consisting mostly of pickups laden with supersoaker-carrying Thais... Walking 20 metres down the street to the shop was no easy task and you'd always come back thoroughly drenched and covered in a plaster-type facepaint, which conveys good blessings.

On the final day we decided to take a short walk to see just how crazy it was. Kids and teenagers ruled the streets, many gyrating to boom-boxes in the middle of the road (laden with slow-moving traffic) getting drenched non-stop. The worst places to walk by had to be the people that kept ice in their buckets - quite a shock in 40 degree heat!
One kid had brought his professional drum-kit onto the pavement and was thrashing it like a wannabe Slash. Alcohol flows freely and you hear greetings from all angles, as the usually more reserved Thais greet the wandering Farangs.

Amidst all this madness we stopped to get our usual mango and sticky rice with coconut milk. As soon the lady had prepared it and handed it to Beth, she promptly reached down under the counter and pull out a large supersoaker, hitting Beth point blank in some weird reverse hold-up scenario as I scarpered down the street. Another amusing sight was the innumerable mopeds motoring past, and despite the wet roads and crazy traffic they were not in the slightest bit exempt from the many buckets of water. A few racerboy Thais had completely worn down their back wheels and were drag-racing their lowered peds down the watery streets! We even witnessed a moped with 3 teenage passengers performing a wheelie on the wet road in standstill traffic... fatalities over New Year were down this year though, although goodness knows how.

Our last days in Thailand saw Beth making a firm decision about her new look...

After 2 years on the same hairstyle I was feeling increasingly bored with the dreads, frustrated by how long it took them to dry everytime I popped into the pool/ocean for a swim. Particularly after the water festival where you are continously drenched. So it was time for a change and a new "do". I'll leave you with a few pictures of my conversion from hippy through 80's Tina Turner to Curly Sue.

5 minutes of chopping followed by 6 hours of combing out what was left. It feels thoroughly refreshing to be able to touch the whole of my scalp, and I'm loving the new do :) My head feels so light that I'm sure I can turn it faster!

Reporting from a closed country

J-Fro welcomes you to Burma

For us, Burma/Myanmar was a country of mixed emotions. A hugely interesting country, struggling out of it's government-imposed backwards ways. Almost completely closed off from the rest of the world, the Burmese make it an unbelievably friendly place to visit.

Fisherman sifting through the reeds, Inle Lake

From arriving into Yangon airport and jumping into a 1960s Toyota minivan with 2 working doors (of 5), it was clear something was different. It wasn't just that despite all the cars being right-hand drive everyone drove on the right. It wasn't just the decaying soviet-era buildings and vehicles in the final stages of disrepair, or the strange looking cream paste on everyone's face. It was as though Burma is hiding something, but wanted desperately to unveil it. There is a national identity that the Burmese seem to be striving to show, but that rarely gets portrayed outside of the borders thanks to severe economic sanctions and a total media blackout (the Myanmar Post, the joke of a national paper, finishes every issue with a large advert about the evils of the BBC and various other international news agencies).

No ATMs in the whole country means you have to carry all your money for your whole trip,
as evidenced by Miss Moneybags Mills here

Dollars must be in a pristine condition to be exchanged, however the local currency "kyat"
is often torn or held together by sticky tape - these notes were in a pretty good condition considering!

On arrival at the first hotel, following a huge welcome by the several generations of family that run it and meeting our friends who had just toured Burma, we were confused by their apparent contradictions in their descriptions ("you'll be exasperated" "it's incredibly beautiful" "you'll struggle to find a decent meal" "they're so friendly" "you'll hate the transport"). Clearly this country wasn't going to be a simple love or hate affair.

We can't fault the Burmese people for some of the negative views we came away with, as during our 3 weeks there they proved to be the most welcoming and friendly nationality we have come across on our travels (particularly those in Shan state around Inle Lake). Because of the enforced isolation of the country they are still bemused by and very inquisitive of foreign faces in their lands, and whilst every man and his dog will stare at you like you've just stepped off a spaceship, they will almost always follow that up with a huge welcoming smile and call 'Mingalabar!' to you (hello, or literally 'auspiciousness to you') even if flying past on top of a truck.

A common mode of transport for locals, and us at times

Trains are mostly used by locals as foreigners are charged 10x the normal price

But foreigners don't always get luxury treatment!

Yangon is a fairly faceless ex-capital city with few things to do or see. An exception to this is Shwedagon Paya, THE temple of the country. Beautiful.

Ringing the bell 3 times brings good luck, they say

A young monk befriended us and offered to give us a tour around the temple, pointing out the various hidden gems and treasures (such as 'this is the bell the British stole in 1852' ....ah I see....) for a small donation towards his monastery. We found that in many religious sites young monks would often come and introduce themselves, as this is the best way for them to practice their English.

In a country where most forms of communication are highly restricted and monitored by the government (you need an expensive license to own things such as landlines, mobiles - a sim card costs $2500 - even household items such as fridges!), it is no surprise the locals have found ways around it and street phones are a common sight throughout Burma.

Our first port of call was the fabled golden rock of Kyaiktiyo, which legend says maintains it's precarious balance due to a precisely placed Buddha hair. The only way up the mountain (barring a 5 hour walk) is in the back of one of the large flatbed trucks, in which 60+ people are crammed in, then driven up the steep mountain "road" at breakneck speed. After getting off we understood the need to cram in everyone so they can't move, as we would have lost most of the passengers otherwise.

Arriving to the top we still had 45 minutes walk to go to reach the golden rock. There was not a single foreigner in sight the whole morning, which meant that we were the focus of much attention and were even asked to pose for a series of photos with a Burmese family on holiday. Despite their sombre looks (photos are apparently a serious affair) they were all smiles before and after so the experience was awkwardly amusing.

After they had taken 7 photos we had to get one with ours

A young devotee counterweights the boulder with gold leaf

One of the more out-of-place sights we saw on our pilgrimage to the top was a young monk, cool as you like, with fancy headphones on, trendy shades and clutching a Sony PSP... sorry I was too slow with the camera for that one!

At this point I should mention the transport. Travel in Burma is.... well.... interesting. The bus seats are around 30cm wide, and the "roads" are patches of tarmac randomly placed every few metres or so - we since learnt that they are manually prepared, as we passed a patch-up operation with many women with small wicker baskets of tarmac filling the holes with their bare hands! On the buses during the night they wake you every hour or two for a "tea break", making the whole bus get off and stand outside at for half an hour, only to arrive at the destination, more often than not, around 3.30am. Did I mention they play children's karaoke videos full blast on every bus until midnight?

Just about to be engulfed by the local kids, Inle Lake

Our next port of call was Inle Lake, where we stayed for several days at the delightful Queen Inn. A family-run operation, we nicknamed the matriarch "Mama Queen" as she became like a mother to us those few days... sublime home-cooking, fresh strawberry juice whenever we were hot... she really could not have been more hospitable.

Blending in with the locals

      

Not my best look ever

The food is not the greatest in Myanmar (very oily) but we found a great restaurant called Smiling Moon where we befriended the owner, a beautiful lady called Thanda, and became regular guests sampling the home-made tagliatelle that even the most finickety Italian would be pleased with, among other more local dishes After many chats about social life in the town and the gossip - the local 'dragon' woman.... we organised a boat trip with Thanda for a day on the lake.

Sadly the lake is rapidly disappearing due to over-logging (by the government) in the local area causing land slides and soil erosion which is filling the lake. So at its deepest it is only 2 metres and we (James, myself and Yolene a lovely french lady we shared the trip with) were regularly bottoming out our canoe to the amusement of many onlookers. Due to the water shortage on one of the canals leading off the lake they have constructed a series of locks with narrow gaps for the boats to pass through, so the drivers have to have a good aim and gun it through so as not to get stuck. We were very impressed with our driver Couteau's skills and had a great time narrowly missing collisions with other long boats.

The local fishermen have an ingenious way of rowing with their legs so as to keep their hands free to fiddle with the fishing net. To me it looked like a crazy yoga pose, not the easiest method I am sure but very impressive and beautiful to watch. 

Yeah! Made it up the 942 steps of Mandalay Hill to see... another temple! Woohoo!

Reluctant to leave our new home we jumped on another delightful overnight bus on the road to Mandalay, which is certainly not as romantic as the name implies. Coming down from the mountains into Mandalay the temperature skyrocketed into the mid-40s, giving the hectic dusty town a dirty steam-room type feel to it. Unsurprisingly we didn't stay too long, after seeing a couple of sights we took the shakiest bus ever to Bagan - 6 hours of roads in such a bad state that the bus windows had been repeatedly re-sealed with sticky tape.

There are over 4,000 temples scattered about the area, in such a way as to give an almost fairytale atmosphere. We were pushed for time as it was becoming increasingly clear that the country's decrepit internet system just couldn't handle the type of connections James needed for work, so we were making arrangements for a swift exit back to Thailand. As a result we did our pagoda tour on bicycles in the heat of the day, and even when cycling at speed it's no cooler, just feels like someone is blowing a hair dryer in your face. Despite the heat we did manage to sample some of the breathtaking views, although we paid the price by burning our feet on the blisteringly hot stone brickwork. 

Hey!

    

A dehydrated Beth struggles to catch up

Oh look, yet another temple...

From Bagan we indulged in a (non-government) flight to Yangon to avoid yet another bus journey and found that this was how all the Spanish travellers got around! We arrived back into Yangon for the start of Thingyan, the new year's water festival - where everyone drinks a load of whisky and has water fights all day long. We thought this was crazy but little did we know that the Thais really know how to step it up a gear... more on that in the next post!

Christian finds some spice in our Burmese buffet dinner - with more than 16 different dishes!

I'll leave you with Beth enjoying a palm-tree beach swing on Ko Chang... :)