Sun in Shan

24.Aug.2013

Raccoon face and a farmer’s tan – they all told me the sun was strong here, but I couldn’t imagine it being that much of an issue on a cloudy day. I left behind the dry reddish plains of Bagan and arrived in

a lush, green, mountainous area in Shan state. The ride from Heho to Inle Lake was a beautiful one that curved along the narrow mountain road through the hills. We passed herds of cattle and families busy planting and harvesting rice. The road crossed the narrow gauge railroad tracks left over from the British rule, and a train was gently rocking over the bridge at barely more than a joggers pace. It takes 15 hours to drive from here to Yangon and 20 hours by train. The locals say the train ride is long and beautiful but very uncomfortable. Before we reached the lake, we also stopped at an old teak wood monastery for a quick look around. This was a teaching monastery, and it was full of young novices that were all out bathing when we came by. Their maroon robes were draped over every available rack-like surface to dry, and you could hear their playful voices joking around until the head monk rang the bell, and they all rushed back to class.

It’s funny how it is often the things we want to do least that we enjoy the most. I was not particularly

excited about traveling to Inle Lake, and almost cut it from my trip at several points. Once I arrived, I was so glad to be here. Though still sticky with Southeast Asian humidity, Shan state is mountainous, and the climate is much cooler than Yangon and Bagan. Speeding along in the boat provided an enjoyably cool breeze.

Inle Lake puts Venice to shame. The villages that dot the edge of the lake are only sometimes built partially on land; the majority rise up on stilts from the lake. There are no roads leading to most of the villages, so the only method of transportation is boat. We boarded one of the long narrow boats to weave our way through the tapestry of floating gardens to the hotel. There are 3500 acres of farms actually built on top of the water using moss naturally occurring in the lake. The local cash crop is tomatoes, and the sweet juicy red jewels pop straight from the water to trucks bound for all corners of Myanmar. I enjoyed a nice tomato salad at lunch with local tomatoes, onions, ground peanuts, oil, and lime juice.

 

When the puttering of the diesel motors at the back of the boats ceases, the locals use a one-legged rowing technique that I have not encountered anywhere else in my travels. Teetering at the edge of the boat on one leg, the other jets out wrapped around the oar with one hand holding it in place. This allows them to use their full body weight to propel the boats and collect

fishing nets at the same time. At the age of six, most of the locals are already well-experienced with this technique. In the afternoon, I saw young school children rowing their way home with one leg on their small canoes. It made me wonder how many times they fall in the water before they learn the balance needed for such a maneuver, or maybe I am just more clumsy than the people of Shan state.

I watched the lotus fiber weaving process, something else unique to this region. The fiber is pulled from the lotus stems one small thread at a time, and it takes thousands of stems to make enough thread for one scarf. Because of the labor involved, lotus fabrics are too expensive for most, so they also blend the fiber with silk during the weaving process. We also stopped in a blacksmith village and to watch boat makers hard at work.

Later, we floated up to a village known for making cheroot, a local type of cigar. They wrap tobacco, dried fruits, and spices in an outer leaf sealed shut with sticky rice glue and with cornhusk as a filter. This is a typical job for young girls because it is easy to learn the cheroot making technique unlike the years of training it takes to become a skilled weaver. The girls all seemed cheerful enough, but they complained that it is difficult sitting on the ground for eight hours a day. I have trouble sitting on the floor for more than 30 minutes; I can’t imagine an entire day of it.

I’ve spent a large portion of my time in Myanmar thinking I could plummet through the floor at any point. Have you ever seen the YouTube video of the woman in China that fell through a seemingly normal sidewalk? I was convinced that was my destiny in Yangon with the cement sidewalk blocks randomly rocking with the sound of a hollow thump. Here in Inle, everything is built of wood hovering over the lake. Most of the construction is pretty solid teakwood in which I generally have a fair amount of faith. The problem is that sometimes these teakwood planks are about two meters long with no supports in between. I can feel them bow under my not-so-typical-for-Myanmar weight, and I anxiously calculate step after step. I hunt for the support beams and try to step as closely to them as possible. Where none are visible, I wait for others to pass, and then I pray. I think the only thing worse than possibly injuring myself in a splintered-wood splash into a Southeast Asian lake is the thought of damaging the home or workplace of these people that are just trying to get by with what they have. It would also be regrettable that there would be no CCTV camera recording my graceful plunge into the murk.

We ended the day with a short visit to the famous “jumping cat monastery.” The monks here have long been fond of cats, and the last head monk trained the cats to jump through tiny hoops – a show that attracted many tourists with cameras. For better or worse, the monk that trained the cats passed away, and the new head monk likes the cats but not the show, so group after group of tourists cruise on up to the monastery expecting some phenomenal feline routine only to discover a bunch of lazy kittens curled up around building.

Now, I myself am curled up under my mosquito net listening to the symphony of frogs, crickets, and god knows what other creatures just outside my door. Tomorrow is my last day of touring, and I have to admit that I am somewhat relieved. The journey has been incredible, but I am used to a much more relaxed pace when traveling without guides. I look forward to lounging by the pool in Bangkok for a day before jetting back to Vienna.