Misty mornings, friendly faces, bustling bazaars... hello Myanmar

From clicking pictures of locals to catching up on some leisure reading in a monastery, PRATHAP NAIR has a relaxing holiday in Kalaw

April 03, 2015 05:35 pm | Updated 05:35 pm IST

PHOTOS: Prathap Nair

PHOTOS: Prathap Nair

“Where you go,” asked a motorbike taxi driver as soon as I landed in Kalaw — a tiny hill station in Eastern Myanmar. I had just stepped out of my rickety minibus, feeling rather unsteady and disoriented after a seven-hour ride through poor roads but beautiful vistas. The last thing I wanted was a ride on the back of a motorbike with my backpack weighing more than 20 kilos. “The Honey Pine Hotel,” I tell him, just to humour him. He and I know it is not far enough for a bike ride and that he cannot charge me for such a short distance. He smiles sheepishly and says it is only on the next street.

Kalaw, my guidebook explained, served as a ‘springboard’ for travellers trekking to the scenic Inle Lake. I had come here to stop by and spend a couple of days before proceeding to the metropolis of Yangon, bringing to a close my month-long journey across the country. I quickly checked in, after striking a little bargain with the woman who ran the hotel, because the room, though clean and neatly done up, had no windows. In effect, it felt like you were inside a big boss chamber, minus the drama, participants and the prying camera.

I set out to explore the town as soon as the stay was settled. Most of Kalaw’s operations are targeted at foreign tourists — tiny boards announcing the availability of English-speaking tour guides hang outside almost every shop, restaurants serve everything they think will attract the tourist dollar and motorbike taxis stand around soliciting business. But none of these ever gets under one’s skin — things are done in a gentle Burmese way. You are approached with a smile, and if you don’t seem interested, the hawker looks ahead at the next approaching tourist.

The next day, Tuesday, was a market day, I was told. I would like it, assured Sai Min Latt, the pleasant and genial front office manager at the hotel. But I had the rest of today left and I decided to spend it walking the streets as evening descended on the hill town. Kalaw’s pleasant climate had attracted the British; remnants of the Empire’s footprints are still found scattered across the town — Nepalis and even Indian settlers live in Kalaw for generations, brought in by the British to serve them. A few colonial structures still stand, rusting, left to ruminate in their state of disrepair. I wound up the evening with dinner at the Nepalese restaurant called Everest.

The next day, with the help of a hand-drawn map provided by Latt, I set out to explore the sights he had marked out — the market, the Shwe Oo Min Paya (the cave pagoda), the Hnee Paya (the bamboo pagoda). The market at Kalaw is where the hill tribes congregate with their mountain produce. It is clearly not for the faint-hearted tourist to venture into — narrow labyrinths lined with shops where women sit selling unusual fruits, bamboo shoots, green tea, dried mustard leaves, dried fish, peanut candy, sweet potatoes and other tubers. I walked around, grabbed my breakfast of noodle salad from a roadside noodle shop and ate it squatting on a plastic stool.

Fortified with my breakfast, I walked up to the cave pagoda that proved quite a hike. Glittering in gold in the morning sun, the cave pagoda was empty as I arrived; barring the broom-bearing sweepers who ambled around its courtyard. Buddha in Myanmar takes a psychedelic form, his altar framed by a halo of blinking lights in bright colours and his robes painted golden. The cave pagoda was no different; Buddha in different sizes sat in the crevices of the caves, smiling serenely, eyes closed.

But I found my peace at the Bamboo monastery – there, the Buddha reclined. I sat on its wooden floors, reading. An occasional pilgrim came and went. Outside, the weak sun was showering the trees with orange and golden light, some of which sifted through the monastery’s glass windows, lighting up the already golden Buddha. A strong wind rustled the tin roof of the monastery.

I finished my expedition with a rather heavy lunch of the typical Myanmar meal spread at the Thu Maung restaurant and washed it down with green tea. In the evening, I went on a sunset walk up the Kalaw hill. Women in tin-roofed houses cleaned their silver ware in their courtyard. Some started gathering the drying chillies as the evening approached. A little boy trundled up the hill to collect water in two buckets tied to the ends of a bamboo pole.

All this while, the sun looked like it would bury under the blanket of thick dark clouds as it went down. A flock of crows encircled the sky and their cries filled the air. A puny woman hugging a huge, dusty brown teddy bear walked up alongside, she looked at me and grinned broadly with her pan-stained teeth. When I pointed my camera at her, she obligingly posed raising her two fingers, making a V sign.

She got bored with me, walked up to the road and waved at the occasional motorbikes. I sat resolutely until the sun became a tiny spot behind the hills of Kalaw, breathing in the gorgeous Myanmar sunset. The water boy was returning home. I dusted myself and walked back.

0 / 0
Sign in to unlock member-only benefits!
  • Access 10 free stories every month
  • Save stories to read later
  • Access to comment on every story
  • Sign-up/manage your newsletter subscriptions with a single click
  • Get notified by email for early access to discounts & offers on our products
Sign in

Comments

Comments have to be in English, and in full sentences. They cannot be abusive or personal. Please abide by our community guidelines for posting your comments.

We have migrated to a new commenting platform. If you are already a registered user of The Hindu and logged in, you may continue to engage with our articles. If you do not have an account please register and login to post comments. Users can access their older comments by logging into their accounts on Vuukle.