And jeez su bay

We board a morning bus for the dry hot plains of Bagan tomorrow morning. 5 days in Nyuangshwe may have been a bit much, however, we seem to be doing fine. The Nyuangshwe market day on Tuesday was very fun, but imagine my delight when we asked where the next market was in the five day rotation and Moogee, our sweet bright, funny travel gal, told me it was waaaay at the end of the lake in the village of Thaung Tho. "Not very big market, not many visitors." This was the market I'd wanted to see because the LP described it as "off the toruist track" and well worth a visit because the surrounding hill tribe villagers come down for this one. Yeaaaaa! So we bundled up in the early morning fog and met up with our boatman, a different one, the other one's brother, Jojo, and headed for the bridge over the canal where the boats wait for lake tours with their little chairs, heavy blankets and umbrellas tucked away in the back.
The lake was shrouded in a chilly mist, neither shore visible and its glassy surface broken only by the tat tat tat of boats as villagers motored past us heading for Nyaungshwe and the faint sillhouttes of the legendary leg rowing fishermen of Inle deploying their conical nets. We saw no other toruist boats this early as we headed for the south end of the lake and the long narrow canal that connects it to the second lake, Sankar. Sankar is a protected area, only open to visitors with permits and a Pa-O guide. Thaung Tho sits just north of this area, a small market, sparsely visited by tourists because it is small and takes so long to get to. As we motored and motored endlessly, our butts numb and faces frozen from the cold, we approached a narrow canal that looked too narrow for our boat. It was clogged with reeds and hyacinth. I turned to our driver with alarm. With his cheek bulging from a wad of betel nut, he smiled and nodded, which I took to mean this was the place, or okay you crazy farang, now I'm going to dump you in the reeds and take your fleece jacket. As I turned back, I drew my breath at the sight before me. On the hill was a temple with literally hundreds of stupas glistening gold in the morning sun. Spread below on the banks of the lake was a field of red, orange, and blue head wraps of the Bao women and a parade of gaily adorned ox carts. The excitement of the market reached us as our boat made its way through the narrow passage parking next to hundreds of other boats along a high berm that led to the shore. To be continued...