Back to the Net

Where to begin?  Okay...we are back in Yangon after a week up north in the Rakhine state of Myanmar.  We flew to Sittwe from Yangon, spent the night at the bat hotel, and caught the morning ferry to Mrauk U.  The bat hotel is the Shwe Thazin in Sittwe, on the main road and the trees across the street are the nesting place for hundreds of fruit bats.  They vie with the crows for space.  Its an awful racket and tweeting (the real kind) while hundreds of bats and crows swoop and chatter to get a spot.  Sittwe is a backwater but has some charming qualities.  Unfortunately we never made it to the big fish market, but we were on a tight schedule.  The Rakhine people throughout the region are very outspoken about their culture.  They will tell you about the neglect of their area by the government and are definite and clear about the differences between Rakhine people and the people in the south around Yangon.  All through Myanmar and especially in the north, we found people very friendly, eager to pose for pictures, and ready to help if it is needed.  This area has been closed off and on due to "ethnic" troubles.  As we left the airport, the road was lined with armed military, arms length apart facing away from the street.  It is a difficult situation and not discussed easily for many reasons, including the language barrier.  We know it has something to do with Rohinga, Indian Muslims who found themselves in this area at the end of WWII and now find themselves an unwanted minority although they have lived there for 60 years.  I think there are fine nuances here that an uninformed American had best leave alone.  Suffice it to say that security is tighter in this area of the north than elsewhere for travelers.  It is a poor area with a neglected infrastructure (not unusual in Myanmar) with a magnificent archaeological site at Mrauk U, and is the gateway to an area of great biodiversity.

Looking across from the roof terrace of
our hotel in Sittwe

The locals call them flying dogs

The Shwe Thazin, our hotel in Sittwe

Early the next morning we rode a tuk tuk, the Rakhine version, a tri-wheeled motorcycle with a covered truck-like bed attached with two benches on either side.  All of these seem to be driven by young men in their early teens or twenties, usually with a CD player rigged up hanging from the center brace over the passenger area, blasting Myanmar or Hindi music...the more distortion the better.  We reached the jetty for the public ferry, bought two tickets that included seats on the upper deck.  Dawn was just lightening the sky as I approached the two boards that served as the gangplank. I crab walked with my pack on my back, taking my time as I bounced over the boards, one foot on each.  Muzzy was behind me, yelling encouraging things like, "Bend your knees honey!  That's right, take your time".  I only looked down at the murky water once and gratefully took the hand of a small thin man in a funky longyi with a cheerot hanging from his betel stained mouth.  Muzzy, the surefooted Old Salt, glided across after me as another man steered us up a small stariway to the upper deck...for foreigners and Rakhine with seats.  It all turned out okay.  We sat with a very funny Belgian artist who lives in Germany, Marc, and another traveler, a French man whose name I shamefully never got.  Muzzy and Marc immediately hit it off and it was a towel-snapping, repartee-filled voyage.  Marc generously recorded riverside village life in a quick sketch in my travel journal.  It wasn't until I got home and went on the net that I discovered his beautiful artwork.

When we finally got underway, most of the regular passengers sat on mats on the decks, upper and lower, huddled and bundled and trying to keep warm.  According to the guide book, there is a government run ferry, and a privately run ferry, a fast boat (which was docked at the pier and similar to ones we took on our first trips to the islands in the gulf of Thailand) and various private boats for hire.  I'm not sure which ferry ours was, and, again, nuance of language is the barrier.  This is my third trip to Myanmar and it is the first time I've learned to say more than minglabar, hello, and jaysubeh, thank you.  I can ask for the bill and ask how much, say that the food is good and someone or something is pretty or beautiful.

Tickets for the ferry to Mrauk U
$10 including a seat

Our Ferry to Mrauk U

My happy gangplank

So, 5 hours later we arrived in Mrauk U and the Shwe Thazin.  Yes, run by the same family, but a much nicer hotel.  To our delight the main area of ruins surrounded us, all within walking distance.  The village of Mrauk U is in and around the 16th century temples.  We discovered on our second or third day that the temples that are exposed are merely a handful of ones uncovered.  Many of the jungle covered mounds are speculated to contain other stupas and temples.  The area, over 27 square miles, is full of them.  We spent the next two days exploring and photographing.  They are quite awesome.  Some restoration as been done, and not too badly, but it is possible to enter lone, small payas and visit Buddhas who have lost a head or a hand.  The pieces lay next to them, waiting to be reattached.

First class upper deck, the only place farang
are allowed to sit

Yes, I am happy

It could be worse

The restaurant

This post was much longer but the rest of it was lost when I tried to post it earlier today.  I will finish posting about our trip to Mrauk U and the Chin villages further north when we return to Bangkok.