Hsipaw: a bit of Shan country

Our Nat-spirit protected taxi, delivered us safely to Hsipaw. We arrived at Tai House resort, a brand new hotel built to accommodate the backpacker  boom in Hsipaw, fueled by the city's reputation as a jumping off point for treks into the Shan hills. A more adventurous traveler might venture to Lashio, further north in Shan country, closer to the skirmishes between Myanmar and a small group of separatist rebels. I celebrated my 27th birthday in Hsipaw. Myanmar cuisine offers many sweets, but chocolate cake isn't exactly a popular local dish. With the help of the guidebook, we found a decent brownie, and I celebrate the beginning of my 27 years with roast duck, cake, ice-cream and Mandalay rum.

In the fields outside of Hsipaw 

The Shan state and other outer border states that are home to Myanmar's other ethnic groups who had their own princes and governments similar to the maharajas in colonial India.  After World War II, Burma gained independence. In 1948, many of these states and rulers signed the initial constitution which was supposed to protect their autonomy and the eventual  right to secede in 10 years. With the military coup in 1962, the army quashed all notions of autonomous states and attempted to bring the country under their iron fisted control.

Entrance to an educational
 monastery 

The last Saopha of Hsipaw, Sao Kya Sen, was a progressive ruler, who after surviving the Japanese occupation of northern Burma, attended the University of Colorado and while the the US met and married an Austrian woman who became his princess. Together they tried to modernize agricultural practices and improve education.  In 1962, in the first few days of the military coup, the Saopha was kidnapped and eventually executed by the army for refusing to cooperate with the Tatmadaw demands to aid them in destroying  the Shan rebel army. The military government has never admitted to his disappearance and death.

Rice noodles drying outside
 a local factory

Hsipaw is a major agricultural center, surrounded by farming villages and cash crops such as rice, soy beans, and corn. Sam and I took a 5 hour guided trek with a local guide. He led us through Hsipaw showing us the local rice mill, noode factory and then into the villages. In addition to Shan villages, outskirts of Hsipaw was well populated with monasteries. Our guide  (after jokingly asking me if I was a spy) admitted to being part of the 88 Generation. This is the group of university students who on August 8, 1988, protested against the oppressive military rule. The protests were ruthlessly quashed, thousands were killed by the army and the bodies were collected in truck beds and delivered to crematoriums. The 88 generation annointed Aung San Su Skyi their leader. After years of personal sacrifice, harassment by the military government and her long house arrest she remains the official leader of the National League for Democracy (NLD).

Nat shrine at the village entrance 

At the Nat animal workshop 

All that introduction to say our guide was fairly open about the history of Myanmar though subtle in his criticisms. He said because the education within  government provided  schools is poor AND they are not free, educational monasteries fill the gap, at least for primary education. Monasteries take on novices and nuns. These are young children, about 5 to 12 whose parents send them to the monastery to live for a few years to receive primary education and learn the tenets of Buddhism. The monasteries are supported by donations from the villagers in the form of money and food. Hsipaw was full of little boys running around in the red monk robes. Many of the monasteries we walked through had 50-70 novices. Despite the dominance of Buddhism, Animism remains active in Shan villages  through worship of Nat spirits. Each village has a Nat shrine "before the Buddha" at the entrance of the village. Some are raised platforms, decked with red and white flags with offerings of flowers, water, and fruit. Some of the shrines contain large wooden animals representing major animal spirits meant to protect the whole village. It seems Nat worship complements Buddhism, since inside each house a Buddha shrine also receives daily offerings and prayers.

Nat shrine along the path,  a Nat spirit
resides in the "empty " space 

Rainy walk to the teak monastery 

The crumbling pagodas of Little Bagan 

Sam navigating us through the
 back roads Hsipaw 

The rains began in earnest during our stay at Hsipaw. Our 5 hour hike was the last clear day in that it only rained once during the day and again at night. Rain poured all night long and into each morning. We had wanted to take a 10 hour hike to the Paluang  villages where tea is grown. However, we were dissuaded by the rain and muddy, slippery tracks. Each day, despite persistent showers, armed with waterproofs and umbrellas, we took short walks around Hsipaw to see the crumbling pagodas of "Little Bagan" and more villages and monasteries. We spent a lot of time reading on our porch or attempting to use the very slow wifi. I often had to remind my impatient American self that not only is open access to the internet fairly new to Myanmar, wireless internet and 3G are very new. Just one year ago, a SIM card cost $200 dollars, now they are $2 at every street corner. (Local lore courtesy of Samuel Pursch)

Trash along the creek bed

It must be said, Myanmar is a bit rough around the edges. There doesn't seem to be official trash collection or disposal outside of Yangon. The banks of picturesque country streams are covered with the detritus of village living.  Along the railroad tracks, litter lines the path. Even Yangon doesn't have regularly stationed trashcans. On my first day in Yangon, I couldn't figure out where to throw the bits of plastic that sealed the tops of purified water bottles. The crinkly plastic accumulated in my pockets until Sam suggested I throw it on the ground like the Myanmar do. In place of trash cans, the city employs a legion of street sweepers. Still, the city and the countryside are dirty and littered, and I don't want to see the stew it becomes when the real monsoon rains arrive.

Common sight of a motorcyclist
 holding a umbrella while driving

Now I'm on the 15 hour bus back to Yangon. We are slowly retracing our path back to Pyin Oo Lwin to Mandalay and then back to Yangon.  We are inching along the hairpin turns and switchbacks etched into the hills that flank the Goteik gorge. Motorcycles occasionally pass us, there is a line of equally large coach buses and trucks crawling along behind us. I can feel gears grind to brake on the steeper decline and pull us back up the steep ascent. In the morning we'll reach Yangon, but not until we've taken a few rest stops. The driving here is hard, and even in my impatience to get home, I can appreciate the need cool down the engine and restock on Betel nut and tea.

Village path along the river

Shan Hills around Hsipaw 

Shan hills,  more pagodas

Four wheeled travel into the hills (Pyin Oo Lwin and beyond)

Sam navigating through
Kandawgi Gardens

There are many ways to travel around Myanmar cheaply. Sam and I have experienced several of these modes of  transport including train,  coach bus, mini-bus, motorcycle taxi and shared taxi. I suppose private chartered car or a simple plane ride would be optimal,  but I'm out of student loan money and don't get my first paycheck until July 31st. I just can't afford that kind of luxury.

Our eight hour bus-rides to and from Yangon to Ngwe Saung beach introduced me to certain Myanmar bus behaviors including  blaring Myanmar pop music and the accompanying videos over the main speakers.  This country also has a love affair with the rest stop which lasts 30 minutes to eat an entire meal. I think it's a nod to Buddhist views that if you get to live more than one life, why rush through this one. A 30 minute stop (or two or three) on an 8 hour bus ride won't hurt anyone...

Mini-bus rest-stop

Even during our 4 hour drive from Bagan to Mandalay, the minibus stopped at a fairly deserted restaurant for 30 minutes. Half of the passengers ate a traditional Myanmar meal, while most of the foreigners stared wistfully at their coca-cola cans with neon straws wondering if we would ever leave.  These long rest stops also serve the purpose of cooling down the engine and washing bugs and serious dust off the vehicle.

Minibus travel is less preferable to a regular coach bus, but better than the train. The minibus ride from Bagan to Mandalay was cramped and incredibly bumpy with tepid air conditioning. At first we drove along literal dirt roads and at one point we crossed a river on a shared bridge: a bridge with train tracks that cars use as well. Our driver was more aggressive than most Myanmar as he vigorously beeped his car horn at every motorcycle we passed. Outside of Yangon, Myanmar transport is dominated by motorbikes. Driving etiquette is orchestrated through horn honking. A car or truck will honk their horn a few times to let the motorbike know they are going to be passed. All mechanized vehicles honk at pedestrians to alert them of their presence. Mandalay, quite a large city, had almost no traffic lights or stop signs yet quite a lot of cars and motorbikes. A car would honk twice before turning  a corners and just continuously honk as it crossed an intersection. Apparently there is rule for this chaos: the driver is responsible for everything in front of them and with that should avoid collisions.

Sam and I stopped overnight in Mandalay where it was 108F to catch a bus to cooler parts of the country. We wandered the back streets of the city and walked by the razor wire covered fences of large houses and compounds in the neighborhood next to the royal palace. We observed the dominance of Chinese culture through language and food in a city that is considered a hub for Chinese commerce in Myanmar.

Inside an old colonial building

Though Mandalay was the royal capital during the Burmese monarchy, much of the city and palace was destroyed by Allied bombs while fighting the Japanese during World War 2. The last Burmese monarch, King Thibaw was deposed by the British and exiled to India.  The last royal white elephant, a symbol of the monarchy was unceremoniously dragged out of the palace. In an effort known as "Burmesifcation," a movement to promote the Burmese history over the history and culture of the other ethnic minorities, the military government built a replica of the royal palace and used forced labor to re-dig the surrounding moat.

Tennis court at the British Club, certainly has seen better days

We caught a shared taxi from Mandalay to Pyin Oo Lwin. We squeezed 4 people plus the driver into a decent sized sedan. This 2 hour taxi ride cost $7 each, and we made only two stops for gas and betel nut for the driver. Pyin Oo Lwin, called Maymyo (May  Town) by the British, was founded in 1887 as the summer capital and a respite from summer heat of Yangon. At an elevation of 3600 feet, the town is significantly cooler, the winding roads are shaded with  the red flowered  Royal Poinciana tree and pine trees. The town's former glory is preserved by the many colonial English houses, usually brick framed in teak wood. Some houses are dilapidated, others refurbished by wealthy military or Chinese  families.

We took a motorcycle ride to the Candicraig, former British Club. British officers from Mandalay who longed for the feel of their English home would regularly ride two hours along twisting mountain roads to drink gin and tonics and play pool at the Candicraig. After the Brits left, it was turned into a government run hotel for foreign visitors to Pyin Oo Lwin.  We met the caretaker of the Candicraig who told us the historical 7 room mansion was to be redone and expanded into a boutique hotel with  a pool. I agree with the former Colonial officers. Pyin Oo Lwin was a quiet, cool retreat from other parts of Myanmar and I most enjoyed motorcycle rides along the pine shaded winding country roads.

Side view of the Candicraig,
original doors

Pyin Oo Lwin is still home to the central military academy of the Myanmar army ( aka the Tatmadaw). The town is also the home of Kandawgi Gardens, a 430 acre botanical garden, founded by the British in 1915. Parts are maintained as a model of English gardens, the bulk is forest reserve to conserve and propagate many native species. Each tree genus has a large plot dedicated to the different species; the best example was the Bamboo orchard.

English part of Kandawgi Gardens

From Pyin Oo Lwin, we caught a $14, four hour shared taxi to Hsipaw, former capital of the Shan State. Our cab driver, a quintessential Buddhist driver had one foot on the accelerator and one foot in the afterlife. He zoomed through the Shan country roads. On his rearview mirror hung red and white pieces of fabric, Nat flags, symbolizing protection by traditional animist spirits.  Shan state is mountainous, good for growing tea, coffee, and a hair-raising cab ride. We had a 5 mile stretch of hairpin turns, as we descended and then ascended the area around the Goteik viaduct, an American made bridge that crosses a 350 foot gorge. These sometimes one lane, sharp angled  roads were crowded with taxis, motorcycles, huge trucks and buses with lots of honking in a dance of passing on the mountain.

Perplexed in the "Bambuseum"

Temples of Bagan

Bagan is perhaps Myanmar's most mystical,  stunning and photographed site. In a true ditz move, I left my camera battery charging in Yangon, so all I have to offer are a few android cellphone pictures.

This ancient city was established when a great Bamar king converted from Hinduism to Buddism. Over several miles of plains, some 4000 temples dot the landscape. The construction  took place over a 230 year period ending in 1287. The majority of signed temples indicate building years of 1150 to 1200. The structures are monuments to the power of Buddhism in this area with an emphasis on mediation but also to the older belief that building a temple for the Buddha might help atone for sins committed in this life and prevent a powerful person from being reincarnated as something undesirable like a woman. (Reincarnation as a woman is lower than many other animals)

Devotion to Buddha and fear of reincarnation made Bagan a majestic panorama of mostly red brick temples with accents of occasional white temples and golden pagodas. One can drive for 20 minutes along the main road and there are temples as far as the eye can see. The touristic part is split into Old and New Bagan. Old Bagan is an area of hotels and businesses nestled within the highest concentration of impressive temples, near the original ancient Bagan City center. In 1990 the Myanmar government ordered a relocation of all people living within the old city limits and through imminent domain (aka the military junta government says do it) relocated them to some former peanut fields a few miles away.  We stayed in new Bagan at the lovely Arthawka Hotel. Like most tourists, we saw Bagan riding around on electric bikes. The e-bikes were more like scooters,  and made me feel like I was touring this ancient city either on very fast motorized wheel chair or a very slow podracer from Star Wars Episode One: Phantom Menace.  So while feeling like a very lucky medicare recipient vs. a star wars character,  I whirred along the red dirt paths from temple to temple.

Buddha in a small shrine

Our e-bikes

Each temple, from those the size of a doll's house to grander mansion sized temples  have at least one Buddha statue within the sanctuary.  Many of the midsized temples have a tiny staircase to un upper level mediation area that also opens onto the roof of the temple.  From the roof of any of these temples, we had a splendid view of the whole plain. On our first evening in Bagan, we set out on our e-bikes to watch the sunset. We met a young artist from Bagan who showed us which temples we could climb on and pointed out the major temples on the plains.

We spent one and a half days in Bagan and could have used one more to properly see all of the major temples. It the hottest time of the year to visit Bagan. As these temples are Buddhist holy sites and many are actively worshipped, we have to remove our shoes to enter even the courtyard of the temple. By 10am the blazing sun heats the stones to a scorching temperature and it is painful to walk on any unshaded part. We woke up at 4:30am and were on our e-bikes by 5am, speeding down the main road from new to old Bagan. We made a disorganized tour of the major temples, with a few instances of driving our tiny machines through thick sand trying to get from one track to another. A few of the temples have decently preserved frescoes of the Buddha's life and teachings.  The whole setting of holy places in such a desolate place reminded me of the cave churches in Kappadokya.  The battery of Sam's e-bike started to drain quickly around 8am, so we started our journey back to the hotel.

We went went out again in the evening to catch sunset from a temple rooftop,  but a threatened rainstorm chased us and our dinky e-bikes back to New Bagan. Instead we watched the sun set along the Ayeyarwady River and had a delicious meal of mutton curry, coconut rice, lentils,  and eggplant.

Sunset over the Ayeyarwady River

Standing Buddha inside Ananda Pahto

Hallway of Ananda Pahto

Train travel in Myanmar: not suitable for the impatient (Yangon to Bagan)

Yangon Rail Station

Next stop on my Myanmar itinerary is Bagan, an ancient city in the dry plains comprised of Buddhist temples built from 1100 to about 1250. Bagan is due north of Yangon, and most travelers take the 10 hour air conditioned bus from Yangon to Bagan. We decided we wanted an "experience. " One of those travel memories that will last forever,  growing golden with distance from the actual event. Hence we chose the 16 hour overnight train from Yangon to Bagan. It seemed like an ideal way to experience the form of transport brought to Burma by the British and see the Myanmar countryside. What countryside we saw! For 20 hours we had our fill of countryside.

A common sign around Myanmar 

Train travel is highly romanticized--for reasons unclear to me. Maybe it is the idea of rolling through the countryside on a form of transport that once represented progress and adventure,  like Manifest Destiny. In countries with modern railway systems the journeys are more bearable;  I have had a few lovely, scenic train rides through bucolic England. However when you travel in a country like Myanmar,  abolish all hopes for smooth, quaint ride through rolling green hills. Really, I should have known better, but the romance of the railway got the better of me. I have the experience of two train adventures in Eastern Europe traveling in Soviet era train cars, both of which were delayed affairs with dodgy windows.  One of these trips was an overnight train from Serbia to Bulgaria that was supposed to be a sleeper car with beds. Instead it was six awkwardly overstuffed chairs,  amd Sam and I spent the night squeezed like sardines with 4 expansive,  surly Eastern European men.

Outskirts of Yangon 

Our current journey started well, a sleeper car with clean beds, and only three people to our car. Our scheduled 4pm train left the Yangon station promptly at 4:10pm and traveled quite slowly through the slums of Yangon built along the train tracks.  The track was already quite bumpy with a few jostles that got us swaying.  My companions and I speculated on whether the track would improve or worsen as we left the Yangon city limits.  We bumped along for about 2 hours enjoying the view of paddy fields when our train came to a slow stop.  I looked out the window to see five men in longyi looking intently at the wheels on our train car.  The sun was setting, flashlights were turned on to further inspect the problem,  the guy in the next compartment nonchalantly hopped out off the train to smoke a cigarette. Mechanical difficulty;  no big deal.  Thirty minutes later we started rolling again. As the train increased speed, the turbulence picked up with some bumps that felt like train might leap off the rails.

A tyoical train car

We were lucky in our Upper-class sleeper car. For $16.50 a ticket we each had our own bed, 4 sleeper compartments per car with  maximum 4 people to a compartment.  The standard class at $5  a ticket, consisted a train car filled 2 two aisles of two person wooden benches, with the  more than 30 people to a car. The passengers where sprawled on the benches or sleeping on the floor.


Around 8pm we stopped again at the Letpadan station. We must have been stopped for 20 minutes, as I walked in the direction of the dinning  car for beer to find our train car was no longer attached to the rest of the train.  I stepped off to investigate,  yes indeed we were a lone car, the rest of the train had been pulled onto a parallel set of tracks.  For reasons never made clear, we had an hour or so delay for the sleeper car to move from the back of the train to behind the engine.


After a dinner of sweet and sour chicken in the dining car where the chairs jumped with each bump, we retired to our compartment to sleep.  The upper berth was an oven, with the fan that mocked me with each oscillation,  never managing to send a breeze in my direction. It seemed every bump on the rails was risking a herniated disk.  So Sam and slept head to foot squeezed on the  bottom bunk.

Landscape in the central zone

Recently ploughed field ready for the monsoon

At 6am, I glimpsed pink sky of the recently risen sun, and the landscape had changed from dry rice paddy fields to the red dirt and scrubby trees of the central dry zone of Myanmar.  I was covered with a thin layer of grime, as through the night, the dust of the countryside settled on our sweaty bodies while we slept.

A seasoned passenger

With all the delays, and the fact that the train probably never went above 50 miles per hour,  our 16 hour train ride turned into 20 hours.It's the last few hours that make me curse train travel. As the sun rose,  our comparment slowly baked. Time  seemed stubbornly slow as we jostled through unchanging landscape of freshly ploughed  red dirt fields, palm trees, and villages of ratan amd bamboo shacks. By hour 18 I had cabin fever. No position was comfortable, neither seated on the sweat dampened bed nor squating  at the passage way window to feel some breeze. I felt so dirty,  no amount of wet wipes could clean away the sweaty grime. Then with no warning we were at our destination.  A porter came to our room saying "Bagan station." We were hustled off the train, our companion of 20 hours,  and into the midday heat of Bagan.

For your train trip through Myanmar, I recommend you bring: 1) snacks, water, and a flask to keep your spirits up 2) toilet paper, wet wipes and hand sanitize for serial cleansing throughout the ride 3) a headlamp and a fan because the lights and fan in our comparment were shoddy 4) reading material so you don't kill your travel companions 6) an immense amount of patience and mantra along the lines of " this is worth the experience."

Shwedagon Pagoda

Shwedagon at dawn

My second morning in Yangon, I took advantage of my jet lag to wake up at 4:30am to visit Shwedagon Pagoda at dawn. Myanmar is not called Land of the golden pagodas for nothing.  Even at Ngwe Saung, a fairly secluded beach town there were 3 miniature gilded pagodas within a short walk from our beach bungalow.


Shwedagon is known as the crown of Burma and stands at 325 feet, adorned with 27 metric tons of gold. Whether gleaming in the bright sun during the day or illuminated with industrial lights at night, Shwedagon is a glowing tower that can be seen from all over Yangon. This pagoda is an important buddhist monument as it is said to hold 8 hairs of Gautama Buddha that he gave to 2 Burmese merchants who offered him honey cakes as alms. The term "pagoda" is misleading in terms of Shwedagon; in fact it is religious compound made up of gilded Buddhas and shrines to house the Buddhas.

At 5am, my taxi dropped me at the East gate (not the renowned Southern gate guarded by a pair of giant Chinthe.) This entrance appeared to be a regular market street. However vendors were already  pushing pagoda-specific wares of plastic bags for shoes and wreaths of jasmine and other flowers as offerings for the Buddha. I followed 3 monks toward an impressive staircase and removed my shoes when they did so. We ascended three flights of stairs,  finally emerging onto the main terrace where I was greeted by the towering pagoda.  I expected the place to be empty before dawn, but it already vibrating with activities of worship. The larger Buddha statues have their own shrines that look like open air temples.  Many of theses structures were full of monks and other supplicants chanting and ceremonially cleaning and draping the Buddha in yellow robes.

The scent of incense gently scented the compound as each Buddha shrine was adorned with candles, incense, food offerings and flowers. Shwedagon pagoda with its hundreds of mini-shrines to buddha, each with its own group of adorers, struck me as what catholics would do for saints if worshipping saints didn't already verge on idolatry. Saints and the many different of buddhas represent the idea that our prayers and desires are best taken to God's ear by an advocate who knows and understands our pleas.  I suppose I felt at home because of my Catholic background, and my mother's devotion to certain saints to help her family.

Pre-dawn prayers

At 6am Shwedagon was positively frenetic with worshipers and visitors, like myself, who seemed content to make the counterclockwise lap around Shwedagon over and over. I never tired of gazing up at the gleaming tower, or admiring the other gilded buildings that contained Buddhas in a variety of positions and made from different mediums. I wandered into one shrine, covered  in a mosaic of mirrors, with several Buddhas sitting in a forest under trees. The pewter colored buddhas were being rubbed down with Brasso.

Buddhas being polished with brasso

The most impressive site was a ceremonial march of many monks and others around the pagoda ending in one of the larger shrines tuckes away in a corner. Three monks led the procession chanting and holding incense, their chant was echoed by the followers, then punctuated by a sharp horn, a chime, and the bang of a gong. The planetary shrines, 8 in total, represent the days of the week with Wednesday having one for morning and evening.  For luck, people pray and make offerings to the shrine of the day of their birth. These seemed to be the most active miniature shrines with different groups, mostly women, taking turns to wash the Buddha with small cups of water and lay wreaths of flowers.

After sunrise 

Shwedagon was a welcome glimpse and introduction to Buddhism in this majority Buddhist nation. For better or worse,  religion permeates daily life in Myanmar. Monks and nuns roam the streets with the rest of us. I was delighted to see monks on the beach at Ngwe Saung; indicative that the monks live among the people they ask for alms. I know some monks in Myanmar incite violence against the muslim minority group the Rohingya and Buddhism has been used as a tool of nationalism by the military government.  The locals know monks are not free from corruption or venal desires. Despite their vow to a simple life, daily asking of alms, and allowed only 6 possessions, many monks happily play on their iPhone 6.

I liked the manifestation of Buddhism I saw at Shwedagon pagoda; it was solemn but joyful, vocal,  and transparent in its practice.  The buddhas are plied with offerings because the worshipers are asking for something in return. When the pagoda is re-gilded, people make donations to cover the cost of gold leaf.  There is a very clear understanding: you must give in order to receive.  Shwedagon was opulent, and it begs the question of the amount of charitable services could be bought with that type of money. Yet, I appreciated that the gold and beauty of Shwedagon was open to all worshipers  (Well, $8 for tourists.) and the compound felt like a community center, not a silent cathedral.  My next tangle with Buddhism will be at Bagan, an ancient city filled with Buddhist temples, pagodas, and a glimpse into Myanmar's past.