Compared to yesterday, today promised to be a much more relaxed day as we made our way to Bagan, the end point of our cruise. Breakfast was a leisurely event, with time to glimpse the shoreline and note the activities on the river, allowing time for several trips to the breakfast buffet to sample the various local dishes. A young man, Ta, smartly dressed in his chef uniform, including the cap, was ready to serve us at the station in the center of the u-shaped bar. Always a smile on his face, a shy demeanor, a limited understanding of English, and no confidence to speak, he would fill our bowl with today’s breakfast soup and add the various condiments of our choosing. His other responsibility was to prepare egg dishes. He nailed it when it came to making any type of omelet or a fried egg. Unfortunately, the most preferred dish was poached eggs.
At our first breakfast onboard several days ago, I had requested a poached egg, then watched Ta attempting to make it. He clearly understood the concept, but just couldn’t execute it. Three eggs later, the water filled with egg white sludge, he struggled to extract one poached egg yolk, devoid of any egg white. He just kept trying, gentle, not getting upset, until he could deliver a (hopefully) acceptable poached egg. I really appreciated his effort and tenacity. However, the following morning, not wanting to impose more pain, I just asked for a fried egg – perfect! Chuck, who also prefers poached eggs, kindly asked Ta if he could show and teach him to easily make them. Yes, with a smile! Chef Chuck (without a chef’s hat) took over the station to demonstrate the process, which yielded several perfect eggs. It was obvious that Ta really enjoyed and appreciated the lesson. So this morning I asked for a poached egg. Ta’s battle with eggs continued – no problem, please make that a fried egg, over easy! It was perfect. Such a gracious young man.
A pottery family at work.
Early afternoon, after traveling about 60 miles, we stopped at a remote village on the river bank, Yandabo. The village has only about three thousand people but is most noted as the location where the Treaty of Yandabo, signaling the end of the first Anglo-Burmese War, was signed in February 1826. The village is split into two components. Thirty families are potters, while the other villagers are farmers, fishermen, or supply raw materials to the pottery businesses). The village’s riverbank provides a unique clay, the raw material used for the pots which are used for water and food storage. Pots made from this clay are widely favored for keeping contents cooler than any other in the country. A two-girl team, with one potting while the other powers the wheel with a treadle, produces between 30 and 50 pots per day. The next step is to decorated the pots by gentle striking the pot with a wooden mallet that has a woodcut in its head, designed by the village artist. The decorated pots are then arranged in single-layered circles accommodating upwards of three thousand pots. At that point they are ready to be fired. The array of pots is covered with ash, straw, and wood and set on fire. Following the firing and cooling process which can take three to four days, they are transported and sold throughout the country.
An artist creating a mallet with a woodcut on its head.
Imprinting a design on the green pots.
Decorations are finished.
Tin made a point of highlighting that they’ve made the pots the same way for many centuries. Since they are clearly utility pots and not pieces of art, I asked Tin if they had made any changes over time in how they make them. “Oh no! This the best way to make the pots.” So, I asked, “Why wouldn’t they try to automate or streamline making them” He paused and looked at me for several seconds. Thinking that perhaps he didn’t hear or understand the question, I repeated the question from the perspective of being able to produce more with less labor. He said that there were no machines that can make them, and besides, they don’t have electricity. “What about changing the process, even without the use of machines?” A blank stare. As I pushed the point further, I suddenly realized that he didn’t understand and had never thought about it. He was not trained to think this way. He had never been asked the question. It drives home the devastation of the education system under government control starting 1962. It will most likely take two or more generations to bring it back to its prior level. There are no educators, no teachers.
Finished pot, with clay base, used as a double cooker.
Your home water cooler.
It was encouraging to see a school full of children later on our walk. Perhaps some of these grammar school children will become teachers. I could see how important and impactful Jim’s and Dotty’s (Dorothy Guyot, PhD and James Guyot, PhD, who we met at the University of Santa Clara) work is in helping to bootstrap education in Myanmar. They are truly devoted to a worthy cause.
School children came out to meet us and are waiting for Tin to hand out bananas.
Future high school teachers!
As we continued our walking tour, I was moved by how primitively they live, yet live a peaceful and respectful life. We passed a farmer moving his two oxen along the road. They have no tractors. A couple, 80 years old and married for 66 years, continued to have purpose by making small figurines from the clay and selling them to visitors. Several of us bought their goods. A few feet away in a small clearing, a solar cell was being used to charge a car battery, which will undoubtedly power the few light bulbs in their home this evening. Livestock, mostly pigs, were roaming untethered throughout the village. School let out, just as we walked by. The children came streaming out, delighted to get out for the day and curious about us. Tin purchased several bunches of bananas to hand out. It was obviously a celebratory event. In the mix, were many stray dogs.
A couple, each 80 years old, displaying their pottery wares.
A typical village home.
Let me just spend a moment on dogs… those who know me are probably shocked that I would mention dogs or spend any time on the topic. Myanmar has a dog problem! I have mentioned dogs everywhere we went, in several of my earlier posts. They seem to be all of the same breed. They are stray dogs whose loyalty is based solely on availability of food. They are everywhere – laying in or around streets, in temples and pagodas. I can’t count the times our drivers swerved to avoid a dog, or even to stop and beep their horn to encourage them to move. As a reminder, Buddhism does not allow the killing of anything. People discovering a litter, simply collect them and take them to the nearest pagoda, where they will be fed. Stray dogs have become such a problem in Yongdan that the city funded a sterilization program. Unfortunately, they recently stopped it because it was far too expensive. The situation remains, without a solution.
A farmer bring his ox team back from the fields.
Returning to the ship, with calmness in hand, we sat on-deck looking out at the moonlit river flowing by, and enjoying a glass of wine. There was no need to talk. It was a time to be in the moment and to just reflect. We are soooo fortunate!
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