Andrew had very nicely treated us to something special to thank Sue for organizing the trip (and I tagged along). Balloons over Bagan picked us up at 5:15 and we drove to a large field near Nyaung U in their trademark vintage Chevrolet buses. There was coffee and cookies waiting for us as we piled off. We huddled with the others assigned to our ballon—16 all together—in the darkness.
The inflation of the balloons was worth the trip itself!
As we chatted with our fellow ballooners, we met a lovely young couple from….Princeton! Liz is a Korean-American lawyer and Matt is a Brit who works for Pearson’s Publishers. They live on Canal Road in Griggstown. After a bit of an equipment problem—the control wires for the canopy were tangled—the gas jets started to roar. The last balloon to launch, we clambered in and up we went with our Aussie Pilot, Clive. Clive was quite a character who made a lot up as he went along (he claimed, among many other things, to have seen a long-dead monk with sweet smelling skin and newly grown hair), but it was fun having him in the balloon.
We floated past Shwezigon, over a huge brickworks, and out over the archaeological zone. There were probably twenty balloons drifting along at various heights, all at about 6 mph. The dawn light on these ancient ruins was indescribably beautiful—and I probably spent too much time photographing and not enough looking!
We passed directly over Shwezandaw, the biggest temple that you can still climb, and it was covered with dozens of sunrise peepers, all of whom waved as we went by.
Clive aimed for Dhammangangyi, the biggest of all the pagodas, and he hit it on the nose.
The balloons were all heading for farmer’s fields in New Bagan, and the walkie talkie really started to hum as the balloons had to avoid trees, fences, and each other in order to land. We were greeted by many sellers and a glass of champagne. We bought a longyi for me and htalis for Sarah and Emily. We were startled to learn that a young looking girl was 32 and had two children. The Burmese look much younger than they are up to a certain point. Then they look much older than they actually are.
This was one of the most incredible experiences I’ve had—we’re very grateful to Andrew for making it possible.
No rest for the wicked: we retuned to the hotel for the huge breakfast buffet: mohinga, sticky rice, noodles, dim sum, plus a full western breakfast. Since we already had a van, driver, and guide, we invited Liz and Matt to come along with us, and, happily for us, they agreed. We had been a bit worried about Zin Zin as a guide. Her English wasn’t too bad, but her pronunciation made her very hard to understand. But it turned out fine. She was much more confident away from her grandmother, and she took us on a great tour. April had plotted our course, and we never would have seen the things we saw without April and Zin Zin.
We started at Shwezandaw, the large white pyramid from which so many people watch the sunset. Before climbing up, we first saw the huge reclining Buddha in a shed alongside. Matt immediately said “Watch out for snakes,” which certainly got our attention.
Then we walked back through the brush so that Zin Zin could show us some ceiling frescos in a small paya that April wanted us to see.
We never learned the name, but Zin Zin said it was named after a mammal that we could see in the trees. The keyholder had to go for his sister, who went for someone else and we finally got in. The walk there wasn’t fun: plastic, toilet paper, and Liz put a big thorn in her foot. But, as we learned that night, Liz was literally a survivor: she had been on one of the seasons of the reality TV show! The frescos had something to do with a picture of a lake that was related to Christian imagery, but none of us really knew why we were there–and Zin Zin’s English just wasn’t at this level of complexity. This was our first view into Myanmar’s educational system: Zin Zin had a degree in English, but it was a remote degree with virtually no direct practice.
We then climbed Shwezandaw itself. Magnificent views, and very, very steep steps with big drops. We clung to the iron railing and hauled ourselves up.
Then on to Dhammangangyi, the largest structure in the plain, noted for the precision of its brickwork. Legend has it that the king insisted that the bricks be set so close that a pin wouldn’t pass between…at pain of the loss of an arm, which was then used in the structure. Here is a blurry picture of Sue with her arm on what was purportedly the chopping block.
The ambulatory had many niches, some with ancient and very beautiful sculptures and images.
But the most memorable of these was the double buddha statue: statues of the last Buddha, Guatama, and the coming one, Maitreya.
Andrew interjects that the bats were far more memorable than the Buddhas. We had seen hundreds of bats flying in and out from the balloon: Clive claimed that he had climbed inside to the top, but Clive claimed lots of things. Hundreds of bats flew and squeaked in the high niche behind the Buddhas, and we all scampered by as fast as we could.
We finished the morning by visiting Sulamani, the temple that rivals Ananda as most beautiful in the zone.
The temple is surrounded by lush grounds and is notable for its beautiful, beautifully preserved carvings.
Here is Sue in a niche showing the Mudra of “have no fear.”
We saw nineteenth century murals in some of the niches, and beautiful green glazed tiles on the outside. As we completed our walk around, we were approached by a young woman who turned out to be Zin Zin’s older sister (who is married to a horse cart driver and has children). She sells fabric and clothing, and Sue purchased a really lovely Htali from her, at which point she insisted on giving us yet another one! A lovely thing to do, from a clearly lovely person.
Although we were initially reluctant, Zin Zin then took us to Min Nau Thu village, deep in the southern plain. We were shown around by a delightful woman named U U, 45, but with two young children.
The village was very orderly, with solar electricity and running water. We first encountered huge piles of fruits being dried for prunes. We saw a wheelwright (two beautifully made teak wheels will fetch $200), a smithy, and a mill, driven by an ox, for making sesame paste. The husband was on a chaise lounge reading a newspaper while the wife drove the ox and their baby played.
We ended at the silver workshop, but none of us bought anything, although Andrew was tempted by a necklace for Lucy. Yes, this was a model village intended for tourists, but, as our first look at village life, it wasn’t bad.
It has been great having Liz and Matt with us; they were lots of fun, and the added voices and perspectives really added to the day.
We then went back to New Bagan and ate at a restaurant with a terrace above the river, Sunset Garden. One of the best meals of the trip, with excellent fermented tea leaf and tomato salads and good Chinese food. Matt and Liz joined in the ritual consumption of Myanmar beer. We told Zin Zin that we were pretty tired, and to cut it short, but she was, luckily, determined to follow her grandmother’s plan, and we saw much more than we bargained for!
First up in the afternoon was Nagayon, a rather large paya notable for its wall paintings, and especially for its huge buddhas with a cobra (naga) motif above their heads, guarded by polychrome Boddhi Satvas.
Across the road was Abeyadana, built by the king’s brother for his Bengali wife. We only have exterior images, because the interior is a UNESCO project, which prohibits photos. We remember this temple by the terrible mortar work being done on the pathway outside, garish white cement marring the beauty of the red paving.
Up the road in the village of Myin Ka Bar were two sites: Nan Paya and Manuha Paya. Nan Paya is one of the loveliest of the smaller temples.
Like Abeyadana, Nan Maya shows a Hindu influence, with gorgeous relief carvings of Shiva and other Indian deities on the pillars inside.
Manuha Paya, a short walk away, is a large, white structure with a huge corncob top. It was thronged with Buddhist tourists and worshippers. It is notable for the enormous Buddhas pressed into tiny spaces, with a claustrophobic feel. Legend says that a king was imprisoned here and expressed his feeling of captivity through the claustrophobic representation.
The image quality of my pictures should give some idea of the tight spaces!
As soon as we approached the temple, I was accosted by two charming girls who had seen us get out of the balloons and remembered exactly what we had bought (from other vendors) and what we had paid. I initially succeeded in escaping, and they said “See you later, alligator!” When we emerged from the paya, though, they found me again, and wouldn’t let go. I was in a good mood and joked with them, but they were tenacious. Amid Dechetian cries of “you’re corrupting the girls, ruining the economy, and spoiling the place for all other tourists from here to eternity,” I bought a lacquerware box for the princely sum of $10, which they agreed to split.
We drove on up the road and Nanda pulled over so that we could walk among a large cluster of unrestored brickwork temples, stupas, and a large monastery.
Zin Zin couldn’t explain why we were there, so we shoved off. A bit further up the road was Mingala Zedi, the last great temple of the Bagan period. It was completed the year of the Mongol Invasion. We dodged a dog on the pathway, and, as the sun set, Andrew and I talked about theories of the end of civilizations, citing Spengler. This is a beautiful brickwork zedi with an enormous bell-like dome. We climbed to the first terrace (the upper terraces were barred) and walked round, with splendid views. The Zedi sits very close to the river, so we had a sweeping panorama of the upper quadrant of the archeological zone. The terrace was notable for its lovely green glazed tiles.
Zin Zin–and Bagan–weren’t done with us yet. We were dauntingly tired, between lingering jet lag and very early starts, but finally glad to press on. We drove through Old Bagan to its eastern edge, where we passed by Thatbinnyu, the white zedi with the tallest spire in Bagan, and a lovely golden finial that can be seen from all over the zone. This shot is taken from the terrace of Shwegugyi, the next zedi we visited.
Shwegugyi had a steep set of stairs up to the platform on which it was built, then a still steeper climb through the stairs inside the structure up to the terrace, with broad views over the zone.
We were all glad to get home. We thanked Zin Zin and Nanda warmly for their help, cleaned up, and rendezvoused for drinks at the bar and then dinner on the terrace, with Liz and Matt joining us. The terrace at the Bagan Thandi is one of our favorite places: we sat every evening under a huge, ancient acacia tree and relaxed after long, exciting days.
Tonight was a really good meal with tea leaf salad and Bagan beef and potato curry.
We were treated to traditional Myanmar music, with a zither player and a female vocalist: wailing, arhythmic sounds (Andrew likened it to a cat in heat or a mosquito in your ear). Then two puppeteers; the man was even more amazing than the woman the night before.
Liz regaled us with tales from Survivor. Wonderful day!