Continued

So I believe we were pulling up to the market at the end of the lake when the internet went back to wherever it resides and took my flowery description with it. But here goes...
Spreading before us at the end of the narrow boat clogged canal, the market spilled down the hill from the paya we had glimpsed for a way before turning off the main waterway. The paya (temple) grounds were littered with hundreds of stupas of random sizes and a long covered walkway led down the hill to the market grounds around the edge of the canal. Our boatman hefted me up on top of a long berm that led to the action. To my right was a large area full of oxen carts, some still hitched up and just starting to leave the area in single file, their drivers standing up to steer. To my left, a sea of Bao women in market dress ambled along, black tunics and longyi trimmed with blue or red stitching, short tight jackets with narrow sleeves made of the same fabric and some from velvet, and their headwraps a shocking contrast in red, orange and blue. Most of the women had their faces painted with tanaka paste, a soft wood that smells like sandalwood that is mixed and used as a cosmetic. Some were the usual patterns of overlarge round dots on the cheeks but some of them had taken great pains to make elaborate designs with the paste. The Bao women dominated the market, standing out like the tribe they are and I had to catch my breath because this is what I love about the markets of Asia, the fact that these beautiful costumes are still part of everyday life, even if only on special occasions now.

Ban-Khan Village Market

Boats for the market

Bullock carts

Pa'O girls

Snacks

Causeway to Payas

Going home

Muzzy and I separated, he to take photographs and me to wander, a little awestruck and awkward. I approached three Bao women to ask for a photo but was quickly rebuffed, so I turned my attention to the little bags of palm sugar candy at one of the utilitarian stalls. You can never have too much palm sugar candy in Burma. It is set out on the table as an after dinner treat in most of the Myanmar style restaurants. Then I found the local Bao clothing dealer and negotiated for a longyi, which I had failed to buy when I got my tunic and jacket at the Nyaungshwe market. I decided to add one of the scarves...I am a sucker for those cheesy plaid scarves. I decided to go with orange. Since the costume is so sombre, the color of the headwrap designates the tribe you are from. After searching for Muzzy and finally finding him at the edge of the oxcart field, I brought him into the food stall part of the market where we tried some deep fried Shan tofu. Shan tofu is made from chickpea flour and fried up crispy, eaten as a snack. We shared a small salad with tofu strips, nuts and shredded cabbage. Of course Muz asked for chillis and boy did he get them. It was the source of much laughter among the other diners and the girls doing the cooking.
We started up the main walkway which led to the temple up the hill. These long covered walkways are typical of the payas in Myanmar, one for each of the four directions, leading to the main courtyard around the stupa. This one swooped gently uphill, but we got sidetracked talking to some other foreigners. We were lucky that our boatman got us there early, before the market started to dissolve and the tourists outnumbered the villagers. Much as we would love to have everything to ourselves, "we" are everywhere and I consider us lucky to be able to experience a market like this at all anymore. Not that I haven't made some interesting contacts with other travelers, but...who doesn't want to be Indiana Jones?
We returned to our boat and began the journey back up the canals and up the lake, stopping at one of the schlock "get the farangi to buy some cheap tourist shit" places that I hate. Unfortunately, by the time we realized what was happening, we were fully committed to the dock, so we dutifully got out of the boat and went inside. Imagine our surprise when three Paduang women sat at the end of the porch, spinning and weaving. I have no intention of trying to impose my values on other cultures. I try very hard not to. I am aware of the great privilege I have in being able to travel like I do, spend money on things I don't need in countries where some people never travel beyond their village and could never afford to, but I also try very hard to support positive change in the world. I was very uncomfortable staring at the brass rings strung around the necks of these young Paduang women. In case you are not aware of them, they live in the highlands between Myanmar and Thailand and their ancient custom dictated placing these brass rings around the necks of the women, also on their legs and arms. The rings on the neck force the collar bones and shoulders of the women down and their heads sit on the top rung where a little piece of cloth softens the metal against their chins. As they age, some develop breathing issues because of the deformation of the rib cage and most loose the muscle strength in their necks so they cannot hold their heads up without the rings. This practice was dying out until some entrepreneur decided that the women and the tribe could make money by charging for photos of the "long-necked" women. The practice was revived using young women who had never been part made to wear rings. Some tour operators exhibit the women and ask if you would like to have your photo taken with them or if you would like to take a photograph. Since I don't speak their language, I have no way of determining if this is something the women do voluntarily or are pressured into, or what, but I think it is a cruel freak show kind of way to make money, exploitative under any circumstances. Human rights organizations ask us not to support this practice by not taking photos of the women, but instead, buy their weavings or other handicrafts. I was so appalled when the gift shop operator asked if I wanted a photo, that I just wanted to get the hell out of there and I hate to say, I bought nothing at all. As soon as we got back into the boat we made it clear we just wanted to head back to town. No more "shops".