It was the best of times...It was the worst of times

*If you are reading an entry below this one or commenting on pictures from our previous travels it would be wonderful to hear from you, however it gets difficult to remember how many comments have been posted on each entry so if you could just respond to all entries, India, Myanmar, etc. underneath this blog and only on these photos it would be wonderful. It creates additional time for us on an already expensive Internet service. We love hearing from you so keep posting.

October 27, 2005
Rain, Rain Go Away

Excerpt from Heather’s Journal:

When we woke up this morning the sky was gray with the prediction of rain in the near future. It has not rained in quite some time on our journey and so it certainly messed with our plans. The day started lazily with breakfast, a sudden downpour commencing over a bowl of Rice Krispies that would wax and wan for the remainder of the day. Luckily our trip to the Shwedagon Pagoda at sunset left plenty of time for the weather to clear – at least in theory.

After breakfast we downloaded all of our photos taken during the city orientation yesterday, did the accounting and bookkeeping for the last couple of days, and packed for our hopeful trip to Bago tomorrow. By lunchtime we were out of things to do except study and found ourselves feeling ever less hopeful for the clouds to part and the sun to shine; but also dreading the hour and a half ride back into the city.

Megan writes, “Spending some leisure time on the ship – downloading photos, labeling and writing, as well as studying – the morning was a little R and R away from the city center. Outside our window we could see buses leaving on various trips and the shuttle departing every hour for the main gate about fifteen minutes away. Here in Yangon the villages are spaced out between rice paddies and the checkpoint is quite far from the pier. I’m not even sure pier is the correct word. Our ship is docked in extremely shallow water and during low tide you can see the recession of the muck on the other side of the bridge has completely been replaced with dry beds of dirt. I wonder how low the water surrounding our ship becomes during this time?”

After lunch we watched the remainder of Sweet November and treated ourselves to some of our chocolate stash from South Africa that is very slowly coming down to the end; altogether we have about three bars of mint crisp left. Soon it was time for us to depart and it was absolutely pouring. Having visited the pagoda yesterday at sunset with the city orientation we knew that the wet marble ground would not provide for the safest excursion and certainly wearing rain jackets and carrying umbrellas would not be photo savvy. Our main reason for today’s trip would have been to take pictures of us at the pagoda as we did not the day before, and so because of the monsoon we decided not to go. It continued to rain flannel, as Shannon would say, until about dinnertime when the sky cleared and the sun sank in colors of purple and orange. I have to say that we were slightly disappointed, but knowing that we saw the same beautiful sunset yesterday made us feel slightly better.

Excerpt from Megan’s Journal:

Water is still a commodity on the ship, only available between six and nine o’clock in the evening. If you miss the window of opportunity you go without for another entire day. We have filled every bottle, nalgene and cup we could find in the room with the slightly yellowish, cloudy water just for the purpose of utilizing the toilet. The suction still remains, however a little water helps to clean out the bowl. We have resorted to using bottled water for face washing and teeth; hand washing clothes has ceased but at least we have been able to get a good bit clean – both jeans, six tops from India, all personal garments, socks, several T-shirts and two tanks. The laundry bag still seems quite full but until we return to sea I doubt much more will be washed.

Some people have complained a great deal with the absence of water as they have missed the time period and have not been able to shower. Several adult passengers have bathtubs apparently and have filled them as well. Just yesterday during the three hour period it was announced about twenty-four gallons per individual was used. The white plastic runners still cover the carpets and the hallways sometimes smell a little unpleasant. This venture between India and Myanmar seems to prove costly for the ship. Purchasing water is extremely expensive and clearly not the greatest quality. Even water in the dining hall is limited, as fruit juice, apple juice, pineapple juice, and orange juice have become quite plentiful to deter mass consumption of water. Ice is gone for good, at least until the tanks are refilled back at sea.

Around one o’clock it started to pour, humid, sticky surges of precipitation overshadowed with dark clouds. When two o’clock arrived and no end in sight of the torrential sheets we opted to not attend our trip Sunset at Shwedagon Pagoda. It’s disappointing but with sunset in three hours we figured there was no way a sunset like the night before would be visible. The construction of the surrounding buildings as well would prove difficult for such amounts of water to clear the premises and we did not want to walk around barefoot in a river of dirty water in the pouring rain not able to take photos. At least we were able to see the pagoda once already.

Heather writes, “We had hoped that they would cancel the trip and refund the money, but that was not the case. At dinner we managed to put our stay on the ship to good use by locating a ticket for Bago tomorrow. Mary and Willie gave us their last ticket, with the promise to pay them if we were lucky enough to find another.”

As such we spent the evening in the confines of our room relaxing and writing some more. We were able to obtain one ticket for the Bago trip the next day, as well as a trip on the first day in Vietnam. The trip for Ho Chi Minh is called “Ho Chi Minh City’s Temples and Churches”. We decided, as we would be in Cambodia for the remainder of our stay, we would regret not seeing any of the port city. As such, this fourteen-dollar trip for five hours would focus on the religions of Vietnam – Confucianism, Taoism, Buddhism and Christianity. During the practicum we would visit Notre Dame Cathedral, Xa Loi and Dai Glac Pagodas, Le Van Duyet Temple, Mariamman Hindu Temple, Saigon Central Mosque, and a Cao Dai Temple. We have found two tickets but only purchased one from a student, as the other has not responded to our note (most likely she is away on a trip here in Myanmar and hasn’t even received it yet).

Excerpt from Heather’s Journal:

We have also decided to purchase two tickets from the buy/sell booklet for Ho Chi Minh’s Temples and Churches on our first day in Vietnam since we do not depart for Cambodia until the following day and will not have the opportunity to see the city. We have located two tickets for sale, and were already contacted by one of the students who brought it to our room. It only cost fourteen dollars so it is not a huge loss if we cannot use it, but hopefully the other student will contact us upon their return from seeing Mandalay or Bagan on Saturday or Sunday.

After dinner we wrote fourteen postcards, and still have six, but we are not exactly sure who to send them to. If you have any ideas let us know and provide an address as everyone on our prepared list will be opening their mailbox to postcards from Burma. So be on the lookout for mail, as anyone we could think of will receive one from this country. Why, you ask? A group of twenty postcards costs one dollar at the market, the best deal we have found in any of the countries thus far. I cannot wait for tomorrow, but just thinking about the possibility of us not going makes me sick to my stomach. Wish us luck!

October 28, 2005
Bago

Excerpt from Heather’s Journal:

So apparently the title of this entry would lead you to believe that we went to Bago, and indeed we did. We woke up very early to eat breakfast and meet the buses at seven thirty to be put on the waiting list for Group B since we did not find a second ticket. There was definitely a wait list of about six or seven people, and on our way to the gangway I felt quite sick with the possibility that we may be left behind. We encountered Eric from the Field Office on our way to breakfast and he put our name on the list, which we hoped to be the first one and not the last. But luck was definitely on our side and as we walked down the gangway, though there was already a line of those waiting to join the trip, one of the other field program staff handed us a ticket that she found in the donation box. Whew! What luck. She knew that we already had one ticket and because the other group of two did not have one at all it made more sense to give it to us, not to mention that because it was in the ticket trader box it was absolutely, positively, stupendously FREE!

Megan writes, “With one ticket firmly in our grasp we departed at eight o’clock for the gangway to see if we could find another, or at least hope someone else would have decided to forego their assigned trip and do something else independent. The one ticket came from Mary-Louise, an adult passenger, and she agreed to let us take the ticket without paying for the trip at the time, and in the likelihood we were able to go, pay her later. Clomping down the two-story gangway, we were handed by the field office people, in a hush hush approach, a ticket that had been dropped earlier in the donation box – a cardboard container we had checked a million times in the previous day to no avail and a box where passengers can put a ticket for a trip if they decide to not participate and cannot find anyone to purchase. The method was largely in secret because there were several other passengers who were attempting to join the trip as well who were off the gangway sooner than us, however we had been quite persistent in our search and the staff was aware of our exploits. With my free ticket, a free trip, a free day of fun, a free pass to Bago, a free, free, free, free adventure for one of us, we left for the three-hour drive to this city. As about fifty dollars was wasted due to a downpour the previous day for our trip to the pagoda at sunset, we felt ecstatic that we had no additional expenditures except for one ticket – Mary-Louis later accepting only fifty dollars instead of fifty-four.”

So we boarded the bus and were soon on a three-hour drive to Bago and our first stop. On the way we literally saw hundreds of golden stupas, which I have neglected to describe in previous posts. The stupas are like golden steeples, almost like an upside-down gold encrusted ice cream cone with vanilla ice cream spilling out in the smoothest torrent of white marble. I tried unsuccessfully to capture a picture of every single one, though this endeavor proved to be very difficult on bumpy roads. At eleven o’clock we pulled into the Kha Khat Wain Monastery to see the procession of the thousand monks and novices in their red robes receive their last meal of the day. Standing at the entrance to the dining room we watched as hundreds upon hundreds filed past to sit cross-legged on straw mats at low round tables. The air was permeated with the scent of warm rice, as monks scooped a bowlful into their collecting vessel. It was an incredible sight standing barefoot on the dusty red tiles of the monastery as they chanted in deep-throated voices, though most were young boys, teenagers, and young adults our age. It had to have been so awkward for them with our group staring open-mouthed as they ate. It felt quite obtrusive and so after seeing the procession Megan and I walked around the monastery to see the other rooms instead of watching the monks. The way our group hovered you would have thought we watched aliens in some strange feeding ritual. I don’t like it when people watch me eat, so I can only imagine what a group of about sixty must feel like.

Excerpt from Megan’s Journal:

Bago is an ancient capital of the Mon Kingdom in the thirteenth century. We made a brief stop at a toilet about an hour from our first destination, Kha Khat Wain Monastery. Situated amongst rice paddies and overgrown fields this toilet facility had to have been constructed for the sole purpose of tourists as the amenities included clean services, spotless floors and counters, and clean towels in a wicker basket to dry your hands; Heather always chooses the stall with the enormous spider for some reason.

At one of the largest monasteries in Myanmar, we were soon ushered into a large room where tables and floor mats were arranged in rows on the wood paneled floorboards, several boys, monks in red cloth with shaven heads, arranged silver teapots and bowls. Minutes later a gong resounded through the complex and the procession for the final meal of the day began. Hundreds, thousands of monks from age seven to perhaps eighteen or twenty, filed in to the entryway where enormous bins of rice were uncovered. These large pots emitted the sweet smell of rice, the scrapping of large spoonfuls heard for a half an hour as the monks progressed into the hall. During the morning meal procession they received their final meal of the day before noon!! I cannot even describe this once in a lifetime opportunity but at that moment it seemed incredibly awkward to watch these young boys learning the Buddhist ways, eating quietly as is the custom, taking photos of their procession and their silent feast. They averted their eyes, as did we, occasionally meeting glances for a fleeting second.

As we left street vendors tried to sell postcards and other merchandise, twenty postcards I knew at the market were only a dollar. Here they were attempting to get five and followed Heather the entire time we walked around one of the meeting halls of the monastery. Four dollars…three dollars he lowered the price, until I showed him that all I did really have was one dollar to which he gladly accepted. So with twenty postcards, beautiful images, we boarded the bus for our stop at Shwemawdaw Pagoda. The glittering golden top of the stupa reaches fourteen meters higher than the Shwedagon Pagoda, though not as many structures surround the complex.

Heather writes, “After leaving the monastery we drove to the Shwemawdaw Pagoda with a photo stop before our arrival to capture the full height of the stupa, which would not be possible from within the complex. It is said to be over one thousand years old and fourteen meters higher than the Shwedagon Pagoda in Yangon, though not as rich in hundreds of smaller stupas, pagodas, and Buddha sculptures. Shady trees lined its base and were a welcome spot in the heat of the early afternoon sun, which was quite intense. “The ground should not be too hot as yet,” our guide emphasized as she meandered meaningfully around the central stupa, and we, the tourist, tested the surface with doubtful faces and raised eyebrows. Though I found instead that you could probably cook an egg on its surface and darted from one shady spot to the next as the soles of my feet were scorched by the surface of the white marble. Many locals sitting in the shade of a tree had smirks on their lips as they watched our ridiculous dance around the pagoda.”

Sweltering hot as the day had become, it was almost unbearable to walk barefoot around the structure. The soles of our feet trying to tread lightly on the burning stone, seeking shade whenever possible under a sheltered tree, we were given a lecture on the site and its reliquary. The shade provided little relief from the sizzling waves of heat, our guide not even perspiring as the whole group began to melt – first tops become sticky, then skirts heavy as the slight breeze tries to ruffle their wet frills, hair lies tacky against the back of your neck, your feet wanting to dance uncomfortably over the ground to the liberation of air-conditioning on the bus and flip-flops. It is easily over one hundred degrees here in Bago and at religious centers dress is far more formal than in the United States.

Excerpt from Heather’s Journal:

We had lunch at Hanthawaddy, advertised as the only luxurious restaurant in Bago, though I found it to be less than so. The napkins were dirty and slightly wet, which made me quite dubious about the rest of our lunch services. We enjoyed a Sprite for the first time on this voyage, though it was a huge dilemma between drinking from the can that could have any number of filth on its surface or the glass, which is bond to have been washed in river water with all kinds of parasites. Once again, rice was the main staple, as the pork, beef, and fish were all way to spicy for me to handle.

Megan writes, “Lunch was at “the only luxurious restaurant in Bago” Hanthawaddy, as the sign declared. The food however was incredibly spicy, the only edible item rice and vegetables. Feeling again like I’m back on Survivor I am craving such items as the Sprite they bring to me in a can, which I pour into the glass cup as it looks clean, expecting this place to be much more sanitary than the tea shop the other day. From the second floor of the restaurant, no air-conditioning, the view from the open windows is directly in front of the pagoda. It is a beautiful sight and it engenders more time to relax and let the experience of being in the golden land soak into my memory.”

“We made a brief stop at a reconstructed palace of the last king, King Thibaw, before heading to the market in Bago. The site is beautiful but I find disappointing. On one side the plot of land has several remnants from the original structures, even a roofed complex housing the original teak columns, on the other side the golden and glittering throne hall. Is it accurate in its depiction? The market is solely for necessity items like fruits, vegetables, seafood, and meat, the smell too unbearable from the butcher of animal carcasses to even enjoy the bustling sight for too long.”

Soon we were on our way to the Shwethalyaung Pagoda and the fifty five meter long Buddha. But before our arrival we paused at the Bee Throne Hall and the reconstructed palace. In the central chamber we could hear the sharp chatter of the bats swinging from the ceiling. Though the throne was merely a reconstruction, the palace was incredible in its golden splendor, and made me think about the authentic throne sitting in the National Museum. At the Shwethalyaung Pagoda the reclining Buddha was smaller and less impressive than the Buddha in Yangon, but the back and side of the pillow was ornamented in mirrors and iridescent mosaics that made it well worth the trip. On our way back to the bus Megan and I decided to purchase an intricately carved fan to complete our Halloween costumes.

We made a quick stop at the market, though we stayed on the bus because I did not feel too good before heading to the Htauk Kyant War Memorial Cemetery where more than two thousand stone graves of Commonwealth and Allied Forces Fallen Soldiers in the Myanmar campaign of World War II are buried. A quick stop on our way for a restroom break proved to be exactly what I had imagined it would be like in a foreign country – a nightmare. Our stop earlier today was quite nice, and owing to the fact that we pay every time we use a restroom, I would not pay one-cent to ease my bladder at this locale. Even knowing I had a three hour trip back to the ship, and likely no water there, by the time I saw the restroom and its cobwebs, dirt, and shack like walls with wide gaps I was scared enough to buy myself at least another hour and a half before I needed to actually go again. Though by the time we reached port I really had to go.

Excerpt from Megan’s Journal:

At the Shwethalyaung Pagoda, a huge reclining Buddha, smaller than the one we saw during the city orientation, possesses some beautiful aesthetics that its larger counterpart is lacking. While the face is truly not as ornamented, the pillow is jeweled and mirrored, larger and more plush. The feet are completely covered in the same mosaic of twinkling tiles; the symbols positioned around three circles rather than the block placement of the larger Buddha’s feet. On the back, panels depict a story of the Buddha, in his death pose, these to embellished and elaborately festooned and bejeweled with iridescent decals. Heather declares she would like a wooden fan for her Halloween costume and so as we depart we once again go through bartering with a soft-spoken woman for two fans that will compliment our Burmese princess attire perfectly. Only a dollar, it was far from a waste.

We begin the return drive, an hour to our last stop, Htauk Kyant War Memorial Cemetery. You cannot tell whether the forecast for the day is going to be pleasant or not as many of the locals carry umbrellas throughout the day, merely to shade them from the intense sun. This does little to prepare an individual for a rain that sneaks up so suddenly you are caught in the middle of a downpour on a tour bus stopping at a memorial park where 2,700 stone-graves of Commonwealth and Allied Forces Fallen Soldiers in the Myanmar campaign of World War Two are honorably kept. With an umbrella we made our way into the beautiful arena of stone markers and monuments for several photos.

Heather writes, “The cemetery was a very beautiful site, and well kept with sprawling green arches that made you feel as if you walking into the secret garden. The orderly rows of headstones were interspersed with wildflowers and pruned bushes and the central memorial of stone pillars sparkled in an afternoon shower. The sun broke free of the rain clouds to etch shadows into the thousands of names on the stonewalls. Many of the students did not get off the bus because of the rain, but I cannot imagine letting a few drops ruin the experience. Though last night was completely different because it was not simply a shower, but a monsoon.”

The return ride seemed incredibly long, the darkness overtaking the landscape of the city center. Back at the ship we were in for a real shock. Waiting at the bottom of the gangway for five minutes, the security officer on duty came down into the darkness to check our bags, an unusual routine as normally this is performed at the top on a table near the metal detectors. She ushered groups of two to scamper and scurry up the two-story gangway as fast as possible, run through the metal detector, hand our identification cards to a security officer to swipe quickly and dart inside the door. Why? Swarms of crickets and other tiny bugs were everywhere, all over the consoles, tables, windows, walls, floors, and doorknobs, everywhere!! The air is crammed with these flying pests as we swat them away from our faces. It is like Indiana Jones when the female character walks down the dark corridor covered in large insects. More like a scene from a movie we cannot believe the state of the ship. Inside we do the dance that comes along with trying to get them out of your hair, your skirt, twirling to have others check to make sure there are no longer any of the larger unwelcome guests on your body.

Excerpt from Heather’s Journal:

It was dark upon our return to the ship and I have neglected to mention the chaos that the night hours bring. At night our ship, so brightly lit, attracts every single flying insect imaginable from the cappuccino colored river water like a veritable insect magnet. My advice to future students traveling to this country would be to return long before dark. We must go through security before boarding, but were forced to wait in the pitch dark at the bottom of the two story gangway as the security officers were inside because of the bugs. Little green glowing insects swarm around every lit window and without a doubt looking up at the entrance around the metal detector, the lights on the ceiling, and the computer station where we swipe in. One of the officers came to the bottom of the gangway to check our bags in the dark before sending two students scurrying up the stairs to swipe their cards and run into the ship. I do not exaggerate when I say that it was a complete swarm, like something from a Hollywood movie. They were everywhere, over every surface imaginable.

It is one thing to laugh at the absurdity of this as we eat dinner every night and look at the bug covered window from the inside, but running through this to open a bug covered door with a bug covered handle is a whole different perspective. Once inside the ship I shook my head and ran my fingers through my hair as several of the florescent bugs fell to the ground. Then I plucked by shirt, more of the bugs falling from my chest to the white covered carpet, before I twirled my shirt to shake free the unwelcome rodents. The two women working at Pursers laughed as we danced around to free ourselves of the creepy crawlers and other students entered the square to a similar choreography of yelps, and plucking of clothes. It still sends shivers down my back and hopefully just one not so good picture from inside the ship looking out at the entrance will prove to you the insanity. The pool bar has been closed since our arrival because of the bugs and now we must order from the piano lounge instead. The crew has a lot of work ahead of them to clean up every deck space that has become littered with the dead carcasses of the bugs that have accumulated after the last couple of nights.

There are still restrictions on water, available only from six to nine in the evening, so we eat a hasty dinner and run to our room to shower and hand wash some items before we fill every empty water bottle, nalgene, and cup to use for flushing the toilet during the day. Yesterday the shipboard community used nine thousand some gallons in those three hours, about twenty four gallons per person and the ship cannot fill the tank from port that fast; not to mention the expenses. We have seen the trucks bringing water to the Explorer but they do not hold very much and we must remember that the kitchen still has to wash dishes and cook our meals. As long as we can shower that is fine with me, and somehow we have managed to wash most of our clothes and for probably the first time since the start of our voyage both pairs of jeans are clean at the same time. Miracle of miracles. Though I cannot wait until they replace our blue bath towels once again with our white plush towels, and uncover the carpet from its white plastic tapestry.

We have the next two days free before departing for Vietnam and we plan to study and relax before returning to the routine of classes. We have seen the entire city and would have loved to see Mandalay or Bagan, but a four day trip seemed quite impractical with first our original safari in Kenya, followed closely by our trip in India and later our overnight trips to Cambodia and then Xi’an and Beijing. Five large trips in a row would have been incredibly tiring and overwhelming. But we absolutely loved Myanmar and we cannot wait to share all of our pictures with everyone and our gorgeous silk dresses. Stay tuned for pictures from our Halloween festivities.

October 29, 2005
Burmese Beauty Rest

Today we are staying on the MV Explorer for a little relaxation and work. Looking out our window a score of dead bugs cover the windowsill, large dragonflies and birds circling the ship for a feast. We have fourteen postcards to write, fourteen because we want to send as many of these greetings home as possible. It seems everyone we can think of will be getting a card from this port, or at least we hope everyone receives them as we am sure mail will be scanned randomly or not at some point before leaving the country.

We will study more for the Global Studies exam before Vietnam. It’s nice to spend some time on the ship and we are going to enjoy every minute before returning to sea. We have seen everything we want to in Myanmar and most of all dread any further bug incidents. We also have some ironing from all the laundry so our schedule for the next two days will be pretty much same – ironing, studying, writing, reading, completing a paper, labeling photos, and resting.

On a side note, to answer a comment left by Cherylie Girlie regarding flowers. In India, once we had arrived in New Delhi we had a brief lull before heading to the train station for Agra. We did mention flower necklace in the posting but not the specific marigold. Lunch was at a local hotel and as a custom guests are greeted with a lei-like necklace of golden, orange marigolds. Of course, the hot train ride did little for the freshness of the wilting buds. We left them near the window, as did many other students but we did plucks several of the petals for a scrapbook. We try to remember every little detail, niceties like these, and we were slightly disappointed to find out that neither of us had a comprehensive coverage of this highlight. As long as you keep asking questions we’ll be able to help fill in areas we might miss. There is a picture posted so you can see the garland. So the first picture posted with the orange flowers are from India, the remainder are Myanmar.

Any questions or comments, feel free to remark. Our next posting will most assuredly be a short one on October 31, 2005 followed by a more detailed entry on the activities of Halloween and pictures of the event, of course Boo Day will be long over for us while you are still handing out candy at home. Our costumes will be making their grand appearance and we are so excited. With five days once our departure to Vietnam, we will be preparing for exams and a trip into the country of Cambodia. It is so wonderful that not only do we get the opportunity to see Vietnam but can enter into another country many have rarely visited. Missing everyone at home and would like to hear from you. Signing off for now.