Niek and I left Myanmar on January 1st with fond memories and experiences that without doubt mark as a highlight on our cycling adventure throughout Asia. Yet we both struggled to write this update. Maybe because it is unexpectedly our last.
A first hand introduction to Myanmar
Myanmar (Burma) was a country I did not know much about before landing in its capital, Yangon. I’d heard snippets of news about famines, a longstanding violent military regime and the terrible after effects of cyclone Nargis, but aside from headlines, venturing into Myanmar was entering completely new waters.
Much like Bhutan, the doors to foreigners have only been opened recently and some say that Myanmar resembles what Thailand used to be like forty years ago. In Yangon this nostalgic reference hardly seems possible. However, the further away from the capital one travels, the more sleepy the villages and the rarer the sight of tourists become. Cell phones are still a rare sight, many locals use horse or ox drawn carts, bicycles or motorbikes, and internet (if it can be found and works) resembled speeds of 1998 on a good day.
Politically Myanmar has a violent history and is boycotted by much of the world for its military leadership and abuse of human rights. This keeps many tourists away. Niek had heard about the country’s stunning beauty, the friendly people and the few tourists that cross its borders and was immediately drawn to venturing there and unboxing our bicycles with more exotic and unpredictable adventures to be had. Another main draw was the relatively good infrastructure and rumors of minimal traffic, which make an ideal combination for bike travel. After our recovery on the beach in Thailand from our Himalayan adventures we were ready to pack our bags, downsize our luggage and start a rather unplanned trip through a country where nobody really seemed to know distances, road conditions or where a road might lead.
We had intended to bike out of the capital of Yangon and in the direction of Bagan, but foreigners are only allowed to stay in government- licensed hotels and these are clustered in the main tourist areas with little in between. For bikers this poses a problem because the distances between hotels can be relatively large. With a lack of a complete list of government licensed hotels or a map with distances, we decided to fly to Bagan and start our loop there in order to avoid extremely large distances on (rumor has it) extremely busy roads. From Bagan distances and hotels could more easily be predicted from whatever information we were able to gather.
Arriving in Bagan was like arriving in a sleepy village, where ancient temples meet tourist restaurants, ox carts, internet shops and sandy streets all within one block. Bagan is a large and ancient temple complex that spans several kilometers. We spent a couple of days biking through the sand roads checking out the various temples and climbing up anything we could to get a good view or sunset on, while indulging in the same Indian restaurant (Aroma-2) for every lunch and dinner. As culinary adventurers we usually branch out and experiment, but the perfect curries, side sauces and endless chapatis drew us back for nearly every meal and made us dream of eating there again after we left Bagan.
Which direction should we go?
After seeing what Bagan had to offer, Niek and I were ready to pack our bike bags and start heading in the direction of Mandalay. We each had two bags mounted to the front wheels and two larger bags on our rear luggage rack. Niek had one extra bag on top as well. This meant that I had to downsize my treasured toiletry bag and Niek had to cut down on his pile of books. Niek’s handicap was pretty much carrying all the heavy items to even out our speeds and thankfully it worked like a charm. We had roughly estimated our first day of cycling to be around a 120 kilometers, but ended up being a 150 kilometers instead. Exhausted and food deprived we arrived and first needed a rest day to venture to Buddha caves, which were more an excuse to recover from our unexpectedly long bike day.
Myanmar as a whole is quite flat, which was pleasing to our legs after the Himalayan ups and downs. A couple of days we had to cover extremely large distances to make it to the next hotel and in these instances the flat roads definitely helped. The quality of the roads was generally quite good. Because of my shoulder problem we were forced to stick to tarmac roads, which unfortunately also meant taking the busier roads. The plus is the tarmac, but the downfall were the trucks which on some stretches screetched past us with giant fumes of exhaust, loud horns and not much room. The road to Inle Lake, between Moniwa and Kalaw was the worst. It is a long climb, which means slow speeds, lots of trucks and it was the only stretch where the road quality was awful. After 115 kilometers, 7 ½ hours on the bike in insatiable heat, we were pickled and counted our blessings that the next day was short and mostly downhill.
During our three week stay we hardly met any other distance bikers. On our first day, by total coincidence, we met two Swiss guys who were in the process of passing a Dutch couple (who were in their seventies!) and all six of us stopped and laughed about the coincidence. Myanmar has a reputation for biking, both mountain and tour biking but without much detailed information we often had to guess distances, road quality and what lay ahead. Still it was very manageable and easy to navigate and with lots of laughter the locals always did their best to help us along our way.Your calf is bigger than my thigh!
The people of Myanmar are probably some of the best memories we took from the country. Their smiles, friendliness, honesty and their good humor could not wipe the smile off of our faces.
Much like in Africa, we found the ‘Coke Stops’ the most rewarding. These were the little villages or huts that we passed through and where we refueled our energy and water storages during our long days. It was at these roadside
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| The color on the cheek is commonly used as sun protection, but also marks as signs of beauty |
stops where we got to hang out and laugh with locals over our height, our bikes and our ridiculously high food intake. At one stop an elderly man was thoroughly amused by Niek’s 1meter 95 and was trying to show that Niek’s calf was bigger than his own thigh. Everywhere we went there was always a lot of laughter and smiles, and the incredible helpfulness and friendly atmosphere that hung over our encounters with the people can hardly hint at the violence and suffering that has taken place within Myanmar’s borders.
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| Your calf is bigger than my thigh! |
Starting in Tibet with a short hiatus in Nepal, the countries we ventured through were primarily Buddhist. What was interesting was how Buddhism is deeply intertwined with the culture and everyday life of the people and what was particularly fascinating was how unique each country was in their interpretation and role of Buddhism in their culture.
I remember seeing a billboard in Yangon saying “Welcome to the Golden Land” (hence the title of this blog), and after seeing the country, it is not difficult to see why it is called the “Golden Land.” Everywhere golden temples and stupas rise out of mountains, hills, cities and glint in the sunlight. The most impressive are also decorated with rare diamonds and real gold leaflets and this decorative gold element of Buddhist structures is unique to Myanmar.
Another unique aspect of Myanmar were the extremely high number of monks intermingling within society. After talking to some locals we began to understand that most boys, (and often also girls) serve some time in the monastery during their youth to learn the values and traditions of Buddhism. Most do it for a period of time and then return home. In Bhutan on the other hand, only a small population of boys end up in the monastery. Boys from poor families whose families cannot afford the children’s education are sent to be cared for and educated for free by the monasteries. Another reason for boys to spend time in the monastery in Bhutan is if the family has a lot of sons. In this case at least one is meant to serve their faith.
The high enrollment rate resulted in mass amounts of mini to grown monks mingling within society in all sorts of activities. In Tibet, where monks are numbered and somewhat of a rare sight outside of a monastery, the activities that we saw them do were restricted to monastic tasks such as chanting, walking a kora, debating etc. Once entering Bhutan, where Buddhism is a dominant and particularly a deep- rooted aspect of society, the monks activities extended into monks participating in tasks as every other person. Our fascination with monks and their activities were maybe drawn from the fact that in western society religion does not intertwine into the visible everyday facets as it does in these countries. Another reason might be that the monks wore beautiful red robes, and also walked with straight backs and an heir of pride through society that demanded attention and respect and thereby drew a lot of attention. In Bhutan we had to smile when we witnessed monks sleeping in the grass, playing pool, collecting wood, driving a car, riding our bikes, or getting VIP escorts through the country in Range Rovers. In Myanmar the monks (and in one city also the nuns) were in such large numbers that it was amazing to see them almost outnumber civilians and thereby their activities became a common sight, but somehow still maintained to endlessly fascinate us.
There is no escaping Christmas
Even in a country where only 4% of the population is Christian, Christmas is not to be escaped. Occasionally we pondered whether plastic Christmas trees and tacky decorations where the number one import item into Myanmar along with the cheesiest Christmas CD’s ever to be made.Here we were among the stunningly beautiful people of Myanmar, among palm trees, indescribable golden Buddhist temples and listening to another rendition of ‘Silent night,’ while multicolored Christmas lights, fake snow and statues of Santa Claus and Virgin Mary maintained their fixed gaze on us. Once we got over the music and the fake snow, Christmas in Myanmar was nothing short of spectacular. We spent it at Inle Lake touring to the floating markets and gardens by boat, drinking wine (our first wine since leaving home!) on our lake front patio and strolling by foot into the surrounding hills where we stumbled upon a village where no foreigners had gone before and sipped tea with a group of women whose children probably have never seen a white person before. Among these women was probably the one place where we were not bound to hear Christmas music.
Pure skill
Maybe because of my rowing background my fascination with the fishermen on Inle lake never faltered. I must have over a hundred photos of them because their talent supersedes the coordination and talent of any water borne individuals I’ve ever met. One method of transport in their narrow wooden and shallow boats is by hitting a bamboo stick on the water, pulling it through and repeating this motion over and over again. The other method is to use a wooden paddle, but instead of rowing with their arms they wrap their foot around the paddle and paddle with a hip, foot motion in order to keep their hands free. I have never quite seen body coordination used in such a complex way. The fishermen would be standing on the end of the narrow wooden and shallow boat more tippy than rowing shells, while rowing with one of their feet, balancing with the other and at the same time using their arms in opposite motions to span their net and meanwhile smoking a cigarette and never forgetting to nod with a big smile at a passing boat. Truly amazing.
A bitter- sweet end
After Bhutan there were some warning signs that the biking might not take us all the way to Cambodia. My shoulder had been giving me a lot of problems already then and Bhutan was considered to be 100% tarmac and good road conditions. I’m due for a shoulder replacement (courtesy of Canadian healthcare malpractice) after a massive Staph infection followed by septic arthritis from an MRI anthrogram injection (yes, it is possible!). After three surgeries my surgeons said biking is OK, but no mountain biking because of the jarring. As it turns out 100% tarmac, high handle bars and suspension can still resemble mountain biking in these countries and I was often left in pain after long rides. In Myanmar this escalated and considering that I’m attempting to keep my shoulder for another 20 years we were forced to draw an end to our biking adventures. No tears can be shed, because our apartment is still rented until March and there are other ways that we can entertain ourselves until we return to Amsterdam and think about leading lives that may resemble a hint more of a sedentary lifestyle. Until then you can probably find us here:
