Pagoda free day!

It's day nine of our trip! We are over halfway through and today is going to be the most challenging; well for me anyway, because it involves a six hour trek through the hills. Now most people who know me will also know that long walks really aren't my forte - actually any kind of exercise to be precise! And those of you that read my blog (uncompleted) from last years trip to The Philippines, will also know that my legs caused me so much pain after all that trekking, I couldn't even climb up or down a flight of stairs - though admittedly that was the result from climbing rice terraces cut into the side of mountains and a volcano! 

This year was only going to involve a three hour walk one way, followed by lunch in one of the villages, followed by a two hour walk back. The only incentive(s) for me was the stunning scenery we were going to see and the hope that I would shift some of the weight that was desperately clinging on from Christmas time. Oh and the fact that a small truck with 'comfy seats' was going to be following us should anyone need it. 

TC was still fretting about her foot that she kept telling everyone she had broken earlier that year and I wasn't in the mood to get into yet another discussion with her over the fact that it was actually diagnosed as a fracture and yes there is a difference and that after seven months of healing; which included seven days of walking around numerous pagodas last week, it would be fine. I was almost on the verge of reminding her that I'd had abdominal surgery eight months before to have two fibroids removed; one the size of a side plate and the other the size of a coke can and I was managing fine, but I had to remind myself it wasn't a competition but a relaxing holiday where we could leave all our troubles and anxieties behind and just enjoy our once in a life time experience. So I pulled on my knee supports, packed my anti-inflammatories and set off with the others. 

To be honest it really wasn't as bad as I thought. We were blessed with perfect weather; blue skies, sunshine and a temperature just right for walking in. According to our tour company Exodus, we were to be walking along "centuries old trading routes" and the sights lived up to all expectations: stunning! We passed by fields of various crops, Water Buffalo posed for our pictures, a couple of locals were out looking for fallen sheets of bamboo to take home and make into paper and the like. It was certainly the ideal setting in which to forget about dark and gloomy London in the winter. 

As promised, we stopped off in a village for our lunch. The villagers were welcoming and laid on a massive spread of food for us. TC popped off to the loo and came back with an expression on her face that made me thankful that my stomach was feeling so much better! She sat down next to me and worked her way through a half a bottle of hand gel while Nicole tried on the local traditional dress which included two types of headdresses. One to be worn by the single woman and one more flamboyant one worn by a married woman. We asked if there were two styles of outfits for men to wear which would announce their marital status, low and behold the answer was 'no'! Bloody typical! Personally I think the married men should be forced into wearing a 'mankini' and preferably in fluorescent green!

After a delicious lunch, we headed outside and gathered together where Kay briefed us on the rest of the walk back to the hotel. As per usual we did get a bit of a telling off with a: "Hello! Hello. I need to talk to you. I want you all to listen to me. I will say this only once. (No she had never watched 'allo, 'allo) but if you don't want to listen to me that is fine you can stand over there". And she would point to a spot a safe distance away. 

I decided that I would quite happily get the truck back to our hotel. My knees were starting to hurt but I wasn't sure if that was because by this point the knee supports were cutting off the blood flow to my legs. And I didn't feel such a wuss because Bob (the Canadian) had decided he was going to get the truck back too.

And so we bid our farewells to the family that gave us food and shelter, TC saw a couple of men sat on the wall staring at us and shouted 'Chezooba' (Burmese for thank you) as she rubbed her belly. They looked back at her bemused; it turned out they were complete strangers, they had nothing to do with our group. TC tried to hide her embarrassment and her concerns when we teased her that the gesture for a woman rubbing her belly could possibly have translated to them as 'Thank you I want your babies' and suggested she quickly throw on the marriage turban and they'd leave her alone. 

Bob and I climbed on board the truck with Kay and headed along the bumpy road for an hours drive back to the hotel. By the time I returned to the room I'd started sneezing and by the time TC returned a short while later I was feeling like crap. So I decided to stay in that night and not join the others for dinner.

It turned out they all had a good time, especially Kay who said she'd drunk too much green tea (she doesn't drink alcohol) and was on a caffeine high all night. Apparently she was laughing and giggling with the others, she had finally let her hair down and was turning over a new leaf. It was time to say goodbye to 'Headmistress' Kay. 

Overall I'd say we had a great day, lovely vistas, lovely people and lovely food ... and not a Pagoda in sight!

Way up in the hills ...

Last night was the best nights sleep! Finally! We were off at 8am on a six hour coach ride to Kalaw and my stomach was feeling decidedly better! 

Kalaw is a former British Hill station found in the largest of Myanmars seven states; The Shan State.

After the decline and fall of Bagan in the 14th Century, smaller Kingdoms started to compete for power. There were The Mon Territories, Arakan, Ava and the Shan States. The Shan are Myanmars second largest Ethnic group, living mainly in the east of the country as well as just over the border with Thailand and Laos. Connected with The Thai people, Shan is actually a derivative of the word Siam.

The largest state they may be, but vast areas are off bounds to tourists due to the continued civil unrest between The State Army and the National Government - which has gone on for decades. And after TC's and my last 'dalliance' with 'civil unrest' between The Keralans and The Tamils when we were travelling across the border in Southern India six years ago, (that's a long scroll back in my blog!), we were happy to have a more 'tranquil' trip this time.

Kalaw has a high altitude of 1320 meters above sea level and I was not looking forward to the breathlessness, light headedness or nose bleeds that I experienced three years ago, when TC and I visited Mexico City. As per usual we were prepared for any long coach trips and I'd downloaded a ten part TV drama onto my iPad for us to pass the time. This years choice was 'The Affair'. (Those that have followed my blog in the past will know about this tradition of TC's and mine). 

And so we settled down in our seats, I took my travel sickness pills as that would give us an approximate two hour window  to watch a couple of episodes before the tiredness kicked in and I slept - Kay had warned us that the final part of our drive was going to be driving along very windy, narrow hairpin bends and the air con would have to be switched off in order to give the engine full power to get us up to the Hill Station! Something I did not want to see, let alone get travel sickness from!

Ear phones in, snacks at the ready and I hit play, only to find that I hadn't actually pressed the download button after buying the series off of Amazon in the UK! This meant the only way to watch would be to stream it, which was not possible given the cost of roaming charges or to wait until we found somewhere with a decent wifi connection and download it, which was practically impossible to find. 

I could see that TC was disappointed (as was I) and even the snacks alone weren't going to satisfy her on this long coach journey. So all I can say is "Thank goodness for BBC iPlayer!" Luckily I had downloaded a few films from our National TV station before we left and only one was remaining on my iPad!  

The film was called 'Jump', a gripping story set in Northern Ireland and one we were both glued to from beginning to end after which my travel sickness tablets kicked in and I slept through to the end of the drive, only to wake up at the end and find TC looking rather green around the gills from the hairpin drive.

We reached The Pine Hills Resort Hotel and were greeted by the lovely friendly staff. What an amazing hotel, very colonial in style and on beautiful grounds. There was an outdoor heated swimming pool and a gym (forget that! I'm on holiday) and a spa!

With an afternoon of free time and no pagodas, TC and I had a quick snack and then I treated myself to an hour and a half aromatherapy massage while my little travel buddy went for a swim in the pool. 

The massage was great! My therapist was called Noo Noo, (I don't know what day of the week that meant she was born on but I had to stop the teenager part of my brain kicking in and sniggering as 'Noonoo' was in fact one of the 'slang' words we used to use as kids in reference to a lady's 'front bottom' - and yes that was the other one!).

Anyway, the massage was great, unlike massages I've had in the past on my trips, that have been so painful to the point of torture that I would have instantly revealed where I'd hidden my passport. And I returned to our hotel room feeling thoroughly relaxed to find TC fretting about whether or not she had just brought back her ear infection by swimming in the pool!

That evening we all went to a local Nepalese restaurant for dinner, then it was back to the hotel where believe it or not we had to put the heating on in the room, as the temperature being so high up in the hills, had dropped drastically after sunset. Though admittedly it was not as low as -4, which my North London Chappie had told me earlier that day, everyone was suffering through back home.

And so TC and I climbed into our respective beds and went to sleep feeling very smug and snug in our 17 degrees of cold.

Mingus, Monks and Malicious Murmurings!

We had now reached day seven of our trip and this morning we had to be up and ready to leave by 5:45am to watch the sunrise from U-Bein Bridge. Six days in Southern Asia and so far everything seemed to be going well and then on the seventh day ... my stomach decided it was time to play up! 

Having experienced severe 'Delhi Belly' back in India 6 years ago; with the memory of the whole experience etched forever in my brain (and in my blog!),  I was desperately trying not to panic after my third trip to the loo between the alarm going off at 5:15 and the coach departure. And I was determined not to miss out on the day's events. But to be honest, the idea of spending an afternoon on a boat was probably not the best thing to be doing.

However, I decided it was mind over matter and my mind was all geared up to say that it didn't matter. So I made it onto the coach and we headed for the bridge.

The U-Bein is found in the town of Amarapura and stretches across Lake Taungthaman (named after an Ogre who arrived in Amarapura in pursuit of Buddha - this one had no intention of cutting off his breasts for him) and is recorded as the worlds longest teak footbridge at just over 3,936,000 feet (1200 meters to be precise), when in 1859 the Mayor U Bein of Amarapura arranged for the bridge to be built from the teak support columns left behind from the palace, after it had been moved to Mandalay. 

I thought it would take ages to walk the full length of the long bridge and back again, but it really didn't seem that bad as I strolled along chatting to Jane and Derek; one of the English couples in our group, but sadly it was rather overcast that morning so there wasn't much of a dawn horizon to see, but there were plenty of passing monks in their dawn coloured robes on their way to and from The Maha Gandayon Kyaung (monastery).

A short break back to the hotel for a quick breakfast (and a quick loo break) and then we headed off to our awaiting boat for an afternoon on The Ayeyarwady River.

The boat itself was like a little barge, there was covered seating up top and a big space down below - and luckily a flushable toilet! 

First challenge was to climb on board, my balance isn't great at the best of times and it didn't really help that we had to walk along a narrow plank with a temporary hand rail which consisted of a wooden pole held at either end by one of the men operating the boat. 

I wobbled but luckily I didn't fall, nor did anyone and we all settled upstairs for the first part of the trip quietly heading along the river, looking at more pagodas along the shore ... whilst I tried to ignore the gurgling in my belly!

To be honest, I don't remember too much of the day as I was feeling quite rough.  I remember stopping off in Sagaing to watch the Monks procession as they lined up and headed into the monastery to have their lunch - everything they receive is from donations from family and locals. They line up in order of age/experience and head into the vast dining room, passing by a group of locals who would hand them each a pad and pen donated that day. With regard to food and any other donations, if any supplies run out before the end of the procession, then those monks go without. Which is quite hard anyway as all The Buddhist monks over here are not allowed to eat any solid food after midday anyway?!

As each monk approached the steps of the dining hall, they removed their brown sandals and left them neatly lined up on the steps outside. So it was quite impressive to watch as each monk left after their meal of rice and fish,  they knew exactly which pair of sandals was theirs.

As we went up Sagaing Hill we stopped off to visit 'Sone Oo Pone Nya Shin Paya (yes another pagoda). I could just about appreciate the beauty of it, my stomach was feeling better but my brain was starting to merge all pagodas together. 

Close by is Umin Thounzeh, known for its curved chamber which houses 43 seated Buddhas and two standing ones. Grateful for the shade we stepped into the cool tiled chamber to take a look, it was quite beautiful though maybe slightly monotonous with one Buddha after the other and so on and so forth.

We returned to the boat and eagerly climbed on board ready for lunch. There was so much food, it was delicious but I was cautious to eat it for medical reasons of course, but also I was starting to feel a bit gluttonous having watched the monks procession and seen the small amount of food they live off of.

After lunch we carried on up the Ayeyarwady River and stepped off in Mingun; a small village that holds big history thanks to the late King Bodawpaya who in 1790 ordered the construction of an enormous .... yes you guessed it ... Pagoda! It was so enormous that by the time Bodawpaya died 29 years later, the only part that had been finished was the lower portion. As described in my guide book: "Quite possibly the largest pile of bricks in the world". Had it been finished, the Pagoda would have been close to 150m high. But even so, it is still a huge tourist attraction, even more so by the mere fact that it had been damaged by two earthquakes in 1819 and 2012.

By this point I felt as though an earthquake was about to erupt in my stomach. Which in itself made me feel panicked bcause standing amongst the market stalls outside a semi built Pagoda on the banks of the Ayeyarwady river with various sellers shouting "Madam! Longhy?" was not the ideal place to give into the needs of my digestive system. And so I sat down at one of the tables under cover and held on tight, in deep discomfort, smiling through my gritted teeth at my fellow group members as they went off to see The Largest ringable Bell (9 tonnes) in the world and The White temple (oh dear I missed seeing another Pagoda!).

Once they'd disappeared I crossed my arms on the table, laid my head down on them and managed a little sleep. By the time I woke up, I was feeling slightly better and waited as I organised my photos on my phone (mainly as a distraction) until my group returned a short while later.

Derek and Jane were the first back and walked me back to the boat. Luckily Derek carried a couple of anti spasm tablets around with him that he'd given me earlier and they had started to kick in. So I managed to return to my seat on the boat and enjoy the ride back down the river with ease.

That evening back at the hotel I had a much needed night in alone while TC went out for a slap up meal with the rest of the group.

Pagoda, Pagoda, Pagoda ...

And so we had our first full nights sleep in Bagan, but also our last as we were up and out to catch a short flight to Mandalay.

It's funny how whenever I mention to anyone that I'm going to Mandalay, they either ask if I know Rudyard Kipling's famous poem or they try to hum that 'well known' song "On the road to Mandalay"; which incidentally no one actually seems to know except for: "mmmmm, mmmmm, mmm - road to Mandalay" . Meanwhile, when I think of Mandalay I think of "Nellie the elephant". (I bet you're all humming that particular song now, trying to work out why and as you get to that particular part, I guarantee you, you'll nod to yourself, smile and say "Oh yeah". )

Another former capital of Myanmar, (there have been a total of four!), Mandalay is The second largest city in this country. It is here that Buddha is supposed to have climbed Mandalay Hill and foretold that a grand city would be founded at the foot of the hill 2400 years later. 

And sure enough, in 1857, the Kingdom was founded by King Mindon, of whom a strange story has been told; many believe he was the reincarnation of the Ogress  San Da Mukhi who lopped off her breasts and offered them to Buddha. As depicted in her statue at Sutaungpyi Paya.

The British occupied The city In 1885 until the Japanese occupation during World War Two, when sadly many of the buildings were destroyed from bombings. But today the people generally live in peace and harmony, apart from the odd small 'flare up' between the different religions.

And so we landed at Mandalay International airport and with a short enough break to grab a cake and a drink, we were on the coach and heading straight to the huge market, where Kay pointed out all the local fruit, veg, spices and general Myanamese delicacies on sale. This included fried rats, which surprisingly even TC said she wouldn't eat!

There were obviously more pagodas to visit, the first one being the Mahamuni Paya. Where right in the centre there is a statue of Buddha that is apparently 3.8 metres high! It is here that devotees stick very fine squares of gold leaf by way of an offering. I say apparently because low and behold, it is only MALE devotees that are allowed to go up while the women have to hand their tiny tissue thin square of gold leaf to male assistants! This decision isn't even a religious one, apparently it stems back some years ago when some chauvinistic man decided to clear all the women out and no one seems to know why (apart from the fact he was a mysoginistic chauvinist - but then again that's my opinion and what would I know, I mean I'm only a woman!)

The Buddha statue itself is said to weigh 6 tonnes with the gold leaf now adding another 2 tonnes to it. The extra layers are so thick and lumpy, that from the pictures, it now looks as though they are actually paying homage to Joseph Merrick (the elephant man!). 

We gathered back onto the coach and travelled a short distance before stopping off down a road that was filled with stone carvers workshops. There were Buddha images of all sizes being made in workshop after workshop after workshop. The dust and fumes filled the air that in some places made it quite unbearable and yet the stone carvers themselves used no protective eye of mouth shields. But I guess that was no surprise as there doesn't seem to be any rules with regard to health and safety in this country. Which was shown yet again when we stopped off at one of the gold leaf workshops later on.

Here we were shown how the tiny, thin squares of gold leaf were made: pounded down for about twenty minutes by young men who stand leaning against a tiny bench swinging their mallets downwards onto tiny shreds of gold lying between thin bamboo paper. Each piece is then cut into four and the same process done again and again and again.

TC stood their and tutted, concerned about the varicose veins that one of the men had.

Later on we went to see The Schweindaw Kyuang. (A former Pagoda!) This one was different as it was built completely in teak, originally within the walls of King Mindon's palace. After Mindon died,  it was converted into to a monastery and moved, piece by piece, to the east of the royal home, which ended up being quite fortuitous as the other buildings in the palace were eventually destroyed by a fire.

In the main hall, there are beautiful carvings on the walls depicting the Jataka stories of Buddha. And just outside, Nicole came across an elderly man, sat crossed legged on the floor, bent over a sketch book as he copied one of the images perfectly. She admired his work and he asked for her name. After which he signed the picture over to her with a little note.

It was truly touching, so much so that I found myself welling up as he refused the money Nicole offered in return for the honour of being given his art work. She insisted and he gratefully took it.  

In the afternoon we went to visit Kuthodaw Pagoda where 'The worlds biggest book' is housed. Commissioned by King Mindon (yes him again) in 1857, it is not actually a book but 730 marble slabs engraved on both sides with the teachings of Buddha also known as The Triptikaka. I asked Kay if that was the equivalent of The Koran or The Torah, she told me it was similar, but was quite explicit when she added " but not equivalent because it was much more superior!" I bit my tongue and decided it was not worth me discussing the meaning of the well known saying "one mans junk is another mans treasure".)

Finally we checked into The Mandalay City Hotel and it was wonderful. A swimming pool and huge rooms, hot showers; very comfortable and a definite improvement on the previous hotel. So much so that I was tempted not to go out that evening for our view of the sunset from the tops steps of The Sutaungpyei Pagoda (the last one of the day) found at the top of Mandalay Hill.

But I went, for fear of missing out. And with my feet still swollen from our flight out, I managed to climb the numerous steps to the top - just.

We saw the statue of San Da Mukhi holding out her severed beasts (see earlier pic) and some of the local novice monks, merrily hanging out chatting to the tourists - apparently it helps them learn English. (One thing to note throughout this trip, was how many of the Monks - who are supposed to give up materialistic earthly possessions - would be 'hanging out' chatting on mobile phones; Samsungs, iPhones and the like, or even in once case as with Nicole and Myself, we found a group of them filming us on their mobile and live streaming it onto the Internet?!)

At the end of a very busy day full of Pagodas, (and steps), we were absolutely shattered and so TC and I scurried back to our huge room where we ordered room service for and had an early night I preparation for our early start the following day.

Bagan and bagone.

Ok, I take back my first comment from my previous post! Last night was definitely the worst nights sleep of the trip so far! Yet again, it was cold and yet again the pre- recording of the Buddhist monk and his chanting followers was played again and again and again and again and (I think you get the picture?). TC reckons what they were actually chanting was: "Wake up all you tourists, we won't let you sleep". There could be some substance to that?

Today was going to be another day of Pagodas, well just the morning anyway, but even so the enthusiasm from each and every one of us in the group was starting to wain; which to be honest made me feel a bit better about being 'Pagodard out' so early into the trip. But next up on the list was The Manuha Paya and the Nana Paya (Paya meaning Pagoda).

By the way, the Myanmar script is very unusual to that of the western eye. It used to be quite square in shape but finally changed to a much rounded one. The reason being is that centuries ago before paper, scripts were written on giant leaves, or rather cut into them and if the letters were rounded, the leaf was less likely to tear. Though nowadays, with the development of the internet, I'm surprised many of us even remember how to write at all. As my cousin pointed out to his eighteen year old son, when I was writing an arrangement in my diary one day: "See this Joel, this is called paper and this is called pencil. It's what we used in the olden days".

Anyway, I digress, apologies, I know you are dying to know more about the temples we visited today. But I'm slightly embarrassed to say, that I'm actually finding it hard to concentrate on what we are told with each visit. You see there is a lot of information to grasp and Kay's accent I sometimes find quite hard to understand, so I will try to fill you in on a few points but for the rest, I would highly recommend you come out and visit this fantastic developing country and soon before it becomes over run with tourists and certain infamous coffee houses and burger bars.

Even John said that at one point he looked round at each of us to see who was listening and who wasn't. He had to laugh to himself because he said that he could tell those that weren't were either fiddling with their phones, looking around, or generally looking slightly glazed - most of us. I on the other hand kept my sunglasses on so it wasn't noticed that I was actually having a little nap whilst leaning against a wall - well I hadn't had much sleep!

The final temple of the day was the thirteenth century Wetkyi-In-Gubyaukgyi, (sounds like a something out of Star Wars), inside of which can be found an array of stunning frescos - well remains of them. It is important to know that this country has been hit with numerous large earthquakes - the last one being in August - so many temples have been either permanently damaged or under repair.

The mornings sightseeing culminated in going to visit a traditional lacquer artisan. This is a traditional Burmese craft that has been used for centuries; even today lacquered bowls, plates, cups and even furniture are found in many homes both near and far. The work conditions are however horrific by Western standards. All the workers sit crossed legged working away at their specific job, be it making the 'vessel' either from bamboo or horse hair, then the item is lacquered from as little as five times to as many as twenty if not more. Between each layer of lacquer the item is then placed in a warm cellar to dry.

Once all the lacquering has been completed there are the skilled artists engraving patterns and then the colour is applied all over and washed off, leaving it only remaining within the pattern and this process repeated with each new colour.

The lighting is basic fluorescent strip lighting, so it is no wonder most of the workers end up having to wear glasses. And all of this is done in silence, no one talks and no one listens to the radio. Now surely this would then be the best time to start playing the recordings of the Buddhist Monk and his followers chanting, rather than during unsociable hours of the night/morning?

Finally it was lunch time and so TC and I joined John, Sal, Nicole and Tieme at The Weatheroons for lunch! Nothing like the traditional Weatherspoons pubs we have back home, but just as cheap and without the colourful patterned carpets. (And far nicer food).

After lunch I spent a few hours by the pool, catching a few rays of sunshine, hoping that I could store the heat to keep me warm throughout the evening and praying that the nighttime entertainment was finally going to be over.

It was. After a relaxing afternoon, we all went over the road to 'A little bit of Bagan' for dinner, where TC was able to discuss the implications of her foot injuries with Nicole - again, while I sat at the other end of the table smiling as I chatted with John and Tieme about nothing to do with feet, mosquito bites or the dreaded influenza.

B is for Big Buddha!

Last night was officially my worst nights sleep on the trip. Not only was it bloody freezing but also at around 3am, someone in the village decided to switch on at full blast, a recording of a local Buddhist monk giving his sermon (a long and loud sermon), which was followed by some Buddhist chanting (long and loud chanting) all of which was on some sort of loop that continued on until around 7am when we had to get up anyway! 

We later found out that this was a Myanmar tradition; either during a festival (which generally would cover three nights) or a wedding (which could cover more!!). The people work during the day so have no time to celebrate and therefore save it all until the evening - or some ungodly hour in the morning when tourists just do not appreciate it! Even Kay was getting fed up with the racket and as she pointed out; Buddha wouldn't have been impressed either as he was all about peace and tranquility - of which that noise was neither!

After stumbling into our clothes, TC and I made it upstairs and joined the others for the buffet breakfast on 'the roof terrace' restaurant.

No one was impressed with the cold food that was on offer, especially as it was supposed to be hot!! I went for a couple of rubbery pancakes with a banana and some luke warm fried eggs with some equally temperate rice. TC had attempted the stir fry veg (tepid) and even she only managed a mouthful before pushing it aside with a grimace that would scare off any ancient Myanamese ogre. So you can imagine how awful it must have been. 

I suggested she tried the eggs as they were passable as long as she took from the bottom of the dish where they were warmer. TC hurried off over to the buffet table then made it back with nothing on her plate and an even scarier expression than the one earlier! Apparently the rotund German man in the queue in front of her had taken two of the last three eggs and when she questioned if the third was the only one left, he nodded then took that one too. 

After a few comments about Germans and their early morning sun-bed reservations, I realised that my little buddy's attitude was nowhere near the Buddhist's 'peace and tranquil' philosophy, when her passing remark as we headed out for the coach was : "After three eggs he'll probably have a heart attack and die". 

And so we headed off for the temple complex, we had a whole host of Pagodas waiting for us to explore and empty bellies to go on!

All the pagodas had been built after the ancient Kings of Bagan introduced Theravada Buddhism in the late 11th Century. And the main ones on our list were: The Ananda Phaya , The Dhammayanangyi Temple and The Schwesandaw Temple and at only four days into our trip, I was already getting 'templed out'.

The Ananda Phaya is one of the largest temples in Bagan. Finished in 1090 it has a Spire that reaches 52m high and four entrances instead of the usual two.  Kay gave us a load more info, but to be honest I was already struggling to stay awake having had only a few hours sleep the night before, so I apologise for my lack of knowledge.

The second temple was The Dhammayanangyi Phaya; apart from being hard to pronounce, it is a magnificent building, built by order of the notorious King Narathu in an attempt to counter balance the bad karma he had acquired after killing his father, brother and wife in order to succeed to the throne. You may be surprised to hear that his plan didn't quite pan out as he had hoped and two years later he was assassinated  by an 'eight man hit squad' paid for by his aggrieved father-In-law.

After a delicious lunch at a restaurant called 'Sanon' - a similar idea to Jamie Oliver's restaurants; a non-profit organisation whereby all the chefs are young, unemployed trainees, being given an opportunity for a free apprenticeship and hopefully a future career - we then headed off to our final temples of the day. En route Kay decided to teach us how to count to ten in Myanamese. We thought it was a bit odd until she got to the number eight and started laughing. You see Myanamese for eight is 'shit'! Boy did she laugh! (Go on, you must admit you had a bit of a snigger yourself.) So I guess the saying: 'Going for a number two' could now be valued to a slightly higher number?

Our final temple of the day was the Shwesandaw Pagoda where we were going to watch the sunset:

Built around 1057, this is another stupa that enshrines a lock of hair from The Buddha. However, this particular stupa was the first in Bagan and one which established the style for those that followed; a series of square terraces, surrounded by rounded battlements.

Next to the stupa is the ... Shinbinthelyaung Temple which houses Bagan's largest reclining Buddha; reaching 18 metres in length! (TC had asked Kay earlier how they knew that Buddha was male when all statues and pictures where of him clothed, unlike some of the classical images of King David and Jesus etc ... and all I can say is with a statue at 708.7 inches long, I was quite thankful he had his clothes on!

And so we reached the end of the day and I was quite thankful to climb into bed; my feet had swollen quite badly, as they are prone to do on these trips and I just needed to put them up and have a good nights sleep ... or so I thought - cue the local Buddhist Monk! 

Begin the Bagan ...

This morning I was awoken by the alarm clock from a very macabre dream, where I was about to be macheted by one of my clients! (I'm obviously missing work).

It was 4am but for us operating on a jet lag that is 6 and a half hours behind it felt like 'OMG! Really?! O'clock'. There was a packed breakfast waiting for us downstairs in the lobby which consisted of a half a cheese and mayo sandwich (with the crusts cut off just like royalty have -  or people with bad teeth), a boiled egg, a banana, a slice of sponge cake and an apple the size of my head! Ok a slight exaggeration but either way I was concerned it may tip me over my weight allowance at the airport.

Our flight was at 6:15, by which time TC had eaten all her breakfast and I'd had just enough energy to manage the sandwich and banana! We all climbed on board ready for our one hour flight to Bagan and settled into our seats. We'd known each other for a couple of days now so were still on the trying to remember everyone's name and polite conversation phase. But I think it was the tuna sandwich that was the final part of our bonding process: the flight had taken off and breakfast was served (yes, our second one), it was a light breakfast which consisted off a yoghurt, a slab of clear jelly with fruit inside that resembled a soap bar from Lush and then there was the tuna sandwich - two slices of bread stuck together by around ten flakes of tuna?!? As TC pointed out; there was probably one tin of tuna shared between all the 100 odd passengers on the flight (and maybe even the ground crew). We all laughed at the sad sandwich, luckily I wasn't hungry at all and suffice it to say the ever reliable TC still managed to eat both hers AND mine in one fell swoop. 

A short while later we landed in Bagan.

Bagan is found in the centre of Myanmar. Found on the eastern banks of the Ayeyarwady river, it is an ancient city with over two thousand temples scattered around a 25 square mile radius and that doesn't include the numerous stupas and statues of Buddha! In fact for me, it was very reminiscent of my trip to Angkor Wat in Cambodia (you'll have to scroll back four years in my blog to find out why). 

Our hotel room at The Yarkin Tha Hotel was big enough for three single beds as well as an ensuite bathroom that had a walk under shower plus a bath. So we were reasonably impressed, apart from the dodgy looking electrics, low wattage lighting and the fact that the rooms were bloody cold! The swimming pool found in the middle of the courtyard that all our rooms surrounded was inviting looking until you stepped closer and realised it looked a bit too much on the green side.

Kay took us on our orientation walk for about an hour which involved pointing out all the restaurants that were clean enough to eat in (including the salads and ice cubes) of which there were plenty, as tourism is rapidly starting to pick up in this country, the various eateries are all getting prepared for our delicate stomachs.

Whilst we walked and talked our tour leader stopped and was rather abrupt with us, thinking we weren't taking enough interest (she'd reprimanded us numerous times over the previous few days already). Suddenly,  TC stepped forward and politely yet sternly told her off for speaking to us that way. Explaining that we were not children and didn't appreciate being spoken to like that. The rest of us remained very British (even the Canadian Bob and Chen the Chinese/American) and said nothing whilst looking slightly embarrassed and silently agreeing with her. But in fact Kay took it all on board for the time being and thanked TC for letting her know.

We set off for the Thanakha museum (remember I told you this was the paste made from the trunk/branch of the Thanakha tree which was then smeared over the face.) To the untrained eye it looked just like a museum stacked with glass cases filled with various bits of tree, but it's not ... well it is, but as all the explanation is in Myanamese it was hard to understand the importance of each encased tree branch. 

The rest of the afternoon was free-time, so TC, Jon, Sal, Nicole, Chen and myself headed off to the market for a bit of shopping. Stopping off for a quick drink and a 'scooby snack' at a little restaurant, where TC finally got her opportunity to tell Nicole (a lawyer) all about her bruised foot from her treacherous DMs and get some legal advice. Later on she noted that there were no medical practitioners in our group this year, I smiled with relief!

We lasted about half an hour in the market (I bought a hat) before all agreeing that it was enough, (there's only so long one can stand the smell of fly covered fresh meat, fish and offal lying out In the heat of the day) whilst being bombarded by other traders trying to sell you longies, scarves, lacquered goods and bags.

Nicole (who Sal accidentally called Monica and now that seems to have stuck?!) and Sal headed back to the hotel, leaving myself, Jon, TC and Chen to head down to a restaurant by the River. Jon had the map and led the way along the dusty back streets. We reached the river, but there was no restaurant in sight, just a few passenger boats floated on the quiet water while some of the locals did their laundry further down the shore. It was a lovely sight, only ruined by the amount of rubbish washed up into the sand. Taking in the peace and quiet we headed back to the hotel hitching a ride off a couple of horse and carts to take us the last stretch of the way.

With a couple of hours to go before our afternoon visit to the first of many pagodas, I wanted to sit in the room and type up my blog while my trusty travel companion wanted a nap, with no lights on and no noise - that included the sound of my fingers tapping on the keys of my iPad. 

And so I sat in the dark, reading my notes by the light of my torch (which incidentally I'm doing now!) whilst trying not to let the tips of my nails tap too loudly on the glass as I type.

That evening we joined the rest of the group and set off to visit the Schwedagon Pagoda where both a Buddhist Temple and Nat Shrine (the ancient Myanmar religion) share the same compound.

At one point I was sat on a low wall listening to Kay explain about the specifics to the group when a Myanamese woman walked over to me, smiled, sat down next to me on the wall, put her arm around my shoulders and posed for her friend who immediately took a photo of us. Then she nodded politely and hurried away! I wasn't too bothered but for the fact that we had all been informed by Kay and the book of rules for tourists in Myanmar, that it was extremely ride to just take a photo of a local without asking permission first! Hmmmm, go figure?!

That evening TC, Sal and I opted out of going to see the local puppet show and went for a wonderful dinner at a restaurant called The Black Bamboo. It was delicious, so much so I think I might have eaten as much as TC that night!

Pagodas, Stupors and all ...

Mingalarpar!!! Literally translated means 'auspicious to you all'. A very respectful way of greeting someone as opposed to 'alright mate, how's it hanging' or 'whatssup'. Which sums up my experience with the Myanamese people so far - very respectful.

Today was a lie in, we weren't meeting until 8:00! And all things considered I managed to sleep through the night, bar one loo break. Which, to be honest, I was slightly nervous about attempting, considering the window in the ensuite bathroom is on the same wall that TC's bed is against! So not only could the bathroom light going on and suddenly shining directly in her face wake the sensitive sleeper, but, she would then be treated to a lovely blurred (thank goodness the glass is frosted) image of me sitting on the throne - as it were! 

Luckily TC slept through the nights disturbance and considering she claimed to be too knackered to eat and not that hungry, i noticed that she still managed to eat a full breakfast of soup, noodles and veg. Mind you I wasn't that far behind but on a more continental breakfast of choice.

At 8 o'clock, our group piled onto the coach and we set off for down town Yangon and all it had to offer, (by which time TC had already devoured a packet of chocolate chip Belvita biscuits).

Rangoon became the capital of The Union States of Burma after the independence in 1948. The old colonial city was expanding rapidly and in 1989 the military rulers changed its name back to Yangon where it remained the capital until 2006, when it was moved midway between Yangon and Mandalay to Naypyitaw. 

Our tour leader Kay, says the reason for moving it is apparently so that the government could show the world just how powerful it was, but rumour also has it that General Than Schwe was advised by his personal astrologer that the stars had predicted it wasn't safe to remain in Yangon.?!

And so the capital and all it entailed was moved, leaving behind an assortment of old colonial style buildings that had been used for governmental departments and were now looking rather dilapidated and converted into apartments, shops or market places.

Kay gave us a quick lesson on how to wear your Longyi. Sounds painful I know, but in actual fact Longyi is the general name of the sarongs worn by both men, women and children out here in Myanmar. There are many types of ways to wear them, one of which she demonstrated,  after informing us that they weren't worn the same way Scotsmen wear their kilts. Ah the bonnie Scotsmen! 

Another tradition over here is wearing Thanakha; a yellowish paste smeared on the face of women and children. Kay told us that it is used as a natural make up, sun block, general skin care treatment or even a mosquito repellant - at which point I saw TC suddenly take an interest and look up from her first fruit bar, having already doused herself in 'Deet' and Citronella. The Thanakha is either painted on in swirly patterns or sometimes just smeared over the face; an interesting look and something perfectly normal over here and yet they stare at me when I go past because I've got curly ginger hair! 

The morning walkabout took us past the Sula Pagoda, found in the heart of Downtown Yangon. With its magnificent stupor clearly visible, all streets converge at this point. In fact, it is such an important icon that all distances to other areas of the nation are measured from here. 

The pagoda has a spiritual history: being built during Buddha's lifetime, the stupor is supposed to enshrine one of his hairs. To me, that seems to represent peace and harmony, yet is sadly juxtaposed by its position of being a rallying point for the 2007 Saffron revolution, resulting in a brutal massacre of nine unarmed people when the military opened fire on the protestors. 

We walked through the Mahabandoola garden, towards the Independence Monument at the far side and admired the colonial architecture down some of the adjoining streets and ended up at The Strand Hotel (sister of the well known Raffles Hotel in Singapore). Feeling decadent we strolled in to use their toilets (most importantly) and sip on a rather expensive glass of orange juice before going for lunch.

The group split up; TC and I hurried off to The Yangon Teahouse with Nicole and Sal, both from London and Chen from San Francisco. 

'The teahouses' are a long standing Burmese institution where friends and family gather and many business meetings take place, with each teahouse having its own speciality. Myanmar tea is extremely sweet, made from condensed milk and a complimentary pot of green tea is always served alongside. There is no one to rush you out of your seat, in fact, if you want, you can stay all day chatting and continuously topping up your drink with no complaints - it is the Myanmar way. (Hardly surprising there are no Starbucks or Costa Coffees out here!)

But we weren't there for the tea, we were there for food and after a rather large bowl of biryani we headed back to our hotel for a quick power nap before the afternoons adventures.

And the afternoon began with a coach ride up to the Kandawgi Lake ( translates as

'The Great Royal Lake') where the British had channelled water over from Inya Lake to create this stunning body of water that lies just east of The Schwedagon Pagoda - Myanmar's greatest temple - which was our next destination.

According to tradition out here,  Myanamese people do not have surnames, in fact their first names are given to them depending on what day of the week they are born. Each day has a given sound that the baby's name should start with. And although they too agree that there are seven days of the week, as far as naming a baby goes there are eight groups of sounds and eight 'animals of the zodiac' affiliated to that day (rat, dragon, lion, mystical bird, guinea pig!?, elephant with tusks and elephant without tusks and the eighth one I can't remember). You see for some reason that I am not sure of, Wednesday is divided into two - morning and afternoon. 

For example, I was born on a Wednesday morning of which the sound 'rah/rrr' is given? Which seems perfectly right considering my name is Rosalie. However my zodiac sign out here is therefore ... The Elephant With The Tusk! Now considering I wore a brace from the age of 11 to 16 maybe I should've been born that afternoon and lost the tusk?

The Schwedagon Pagoda dates back to around 588 BC. It consists of a magnificent golden stupor, a stunning temple and various images of buddha both large and small scattered all around it.  As you walk around the giant temple, there are shrines placed equidistant from each other, each marked by a day of the week. The idea being you can go to your particular day and pray. TC did in fact take a picture of me stood by my Wednesday morning shrine. However as much as she insisted that she pressed the right button on my camera, when it came to uploading my photographs at the end of the day, there were none. So maybe I'm not really the tusked elephant after all, but the long toothed vampire who cannot be photographed? Either way TC proved yet again that she definitely fits into her birthday zodiac sign - the mythical bird, or as she rightly put it "Just a Mystery".

The day came to an end as we watched the sunset over the Stupor and we all returned to the hotel, ready for an early night, for at 4:30 am we had to be up and out to catch a flight to Bagan.