We have seen the shrines of Bagan at dawn. It is something one simply must do when in Burma. Get up early (life in Burma begins around 4:00 am anyway), climb to the top of one of the highest temples, and be utterly stunned to see more than 3000, yes three thousand, temples and stupas on a plain that stretches from your feet to the distant horizon. Each of them was built by an ancient king as a tribute to Buddha. They stand serene and magical rising from the mist with their hips nestled in the loving arms of banyan trees. It is flatly impossible not to meditate here. The temples themselves seem to be meditating. It is as if a single great … ohm … is rising from the copper morning mist. Some stupas are are layered in gold and drop from their peaks in gentle curves (rather like a soft ice-cream, but with a spire instead of a curl on top, and then are dipped in gold instead of chocolate…. Ohmmmm…….. 🙂

Though Buddhism has been practiced in the area since the third century BC, in the 11th century, king Anawartha decreed Buddhism to be this country’s religion and there remains evidence of it everywhere; in the mulitude of Buddha images, shrines and frescos and in the daily life of the people. I think it is the reason why it feels so safe to travel in Burma, even to walk after dark through strange city streets. It is the reason why when you leave a tip on the table the waiter runs after you to return the money you’ve “forgotten”. We have discovered where men wearing longyi keep their wallets. It is doubtful you could keep your wallet so exposed anywhere else in the world.

By horsecart we go back to the village and pass by a little boy monk who is in a hurry to catch up, and a group of boys kicking up rousing game of soccer.

We travel by bus from Bagan to Hsipaw, a small town in the north east of Burma. Only 35 Km on, one is not permitted to go further and beyond which lies the border to China and Thailand. In those nearby hills internal conflicts continue to flare. Even from the bus window we can see the people are working hard; selling a few things from ubiquitous roadside stands(even petrol by the litre in expired plastic water bottles), toiling in the fields, building a section of the narrow, yet major roadway literally by hand. Women crouch beside a pile of rock sorting the stones according to size then apply layers of road before pouring a dipper of boiling tar on top. The only machine seems to be a small steam-roller for flattening it. Even on the bigger construction sites concrete is mixed in small batches and poured it into flat baskets which women in dusty longyi carry on their heads to dump in the right place. The Burmese people are lithe and strong.

Life here in Hsipaw seems simpler. It is an agricultural community surrounded by small hill villages that are home to the Shan and Palaung people. We decided on a two-day guided trek to visit some of the remote villages. The trek takes us over a mountain, down to the river valley and up the other side, through forest and terraced plantations of such things as tea, sugar cane, watermelon, sesame and beans. All fields are tilled by water buffalo and plow and are planted and harvested by hand. It is the dry season and we are told that during the rainy season all these fields will be planted with rice.

We stop for lunch in the Palaung village where, in a simple traditional home, we are graciously served a lunch of rice, fresh steamed vegetables, soy cakes and copious amounts of delicious tea. We continue to walk and climb for eight hours and end our first day in a Shan village. Here we will spend the night. We climb a simple set of stairs to the upper level of the home, the animals live below, and enter a large open room with mats and blankets laid out for us on the floor. Several open-shuttered windows look out over the lush mountains. The walls are darkened by years of indoor wood fires used for cooking, heat and light. There is no power, and water from the mountain spring trickles through an ingenious system of bamboo pipe into a barrel at the foot of the stairs. This is where we can wash. The cool water is pure luxury after a long and dusty hike.

Before dinner we explore the town which, because of the brick red earth, is bathed in a rosy light. The entire village is settled on a hillside of brick red earth while the houses are of rich brown teak and bamboo. It is a restful and simple palette. Courtyards are cleanly swept animals settle beneath the homes. Villagers, especially children, come forward to greet us and wave. The village spring seems to be a gathering place as people come to wash vegetables, themselves and to fill jugs of water to take home.

We return to our home for the night to a meal of rice, vegetables and tea and then settle our tired bones on our mats while the smoke from the indoor fire billows overhead. Thank goodness for the draft of fresh air from between the floor boards and from around the shutters. A teething baby cries in the night but otherwise everything is silent.

Good night, Love Monika and Randy

PS: Good night to John, Kristi, Briane, Margo, Matt, Alexi, Claire, Craig, Do Jee, Jo Jo.