[NOTE: As you can tell, there’s been a looonnngg interval since my last posting of this trip. While I wrote most of the text as we were experiencing the trip, it became too difficult to select, reformat, and post photos. So I opted to wait until we arrived back home to resume. HOWEVER, we arrived just in time to be totally consumed by Christmas preparations and family gatherings – yet another delay. Finally, with the holidays behind us, I’m getting back to finishing the blog of our trip.]
The highlight of today’s travel is through Myanmar’s most beautiful gorge, featuring cliffs and thick forests. Raising our ship’s anchor before sunrise awakens us and reminds us to make our way to the top deck to enjoy the gorge. It is quiet except for the drone from our engines as they strain to make our way upstream towards Bhamo, our northernmost destination. It is daybreak and a mist covers the river and forests, giving it a mystical feel. The crew has set up tables so we could enjoy our breakfast surrounded by all this natural beauty. We felt as if we were completely alone on the river. As the sun began to break over the ridge to the east, the tapestry of shades of green on both banks provided the canvas for dots glowing like flames from candles – it was the sun reflecting off the domes of stupas. These bell-shaped buildings are either gilded with gold, or at a minimum, painted gold. It is the only indicator that the area is inhabited.
Awaking early to watch our entering the gorge section of the river.
A blanket of fog across the jungle.
Sun breaking over the horizon.
Our guide Tin, could only speculate on the number of stupas in Myanmar – tens of thousands (the plain in which Bagan sits, had more than 10,000 stupas at one point). As we’ve learned repeatedly, these stupas are built by and for individuals, families, groups of families, villages, and towns. Housed in the center of the stupa is a holy relic… perhaps a Buddha statue. Despite being extremely poor, Burmese spend scarce money and time to build and maintain these structures. Why? It is their investment in the future, in the hope of a beneficial rebirth, such as being born into a rich family, having an attractive body, or experiencing a long and happy life in which wishes are frequently fulfilled. On a spiritual level, the benefit would be to reach the ultimate goal of Buddhism – enlightenment, without the burden of going through yet another rebirth. Since destroying a stupa is very negative – equivalent to killing – thousands remain, many slowly deteriorating as the individual, family, or village has died off.
Morning sun reflecting off the gold roofed stupas.
Everywhere, stupas ‘pop’ up as the sun rises.
Stupas rising above the trees.
Sun up!
As the sun continues to rise and illuminate the banks, it reveals houses and small communities along the shoreline. This quiet morning gave me the chance to talk with Tin about his life in Burma. When he was twelve years old, his parents sent him to a monastery to become a novice monk for a couple of weeks – sounds like sending him to camp. He did not like it. He did not like eating only two meals a day and the daily routines. As is tradition, he returned to the monastery to become a monk when he was twenty years old… for just a short time. He still didn’t like it. Since the educational system of the country was completely destroyed, boys had very limited options. If the parents were well off, they could support him in the public schools, but what he learned was useless (e.g. Tin’s Physics degree). Not finding any work in Myanmar, he left for Singapore to work in a restaurant, improve his English, and take lessons on Burmese history. A few years later, in 2012, as the country was beginning to open up, he returned, and qualified as a guide.
“A double espresso, with a cup of hot water on the side, please.”
Time for breakfast as the sun continues to rise.
Reviving the educational system of the past will take two or three generations. If parents are not well off, they can send their sons and daughters to a monastery, which will provide food, housing, and education. After attending school, (five years was mandatory), they can work in a trade (silversmith, making pottery, builder, etc.), become a long-term monk, work on a farm, become a fisherman, or harvest bamboo and teak. If they are pure Burmese they can work in the government, join the army, or any of the uniformed forces. In the army they will work on army-owned farms or factories (almost all factories are owned by the army). Joining the army is the ticket to a reasonably good life. The upper echelon of the army generally has enough money to send their children to Singapore for their education. There is one other caveat to join – they must not have participated in any anti-government activity.
Tin’s participation in the 8888 uprising blocked him from government or army work. So how did he continue to learn, since books beyond those published by the government were not available? There was an underground of young people passing ‘prohibited books’ around – removing covers, hiding them inside government books. He talked about his most favored books that paint a portrait of Burma before the revolution. If caught with one of these books, he would be arrested and jailed. Sounds very similar to a world described in Ray Bradbury’s dystopian novel, Fahrenheit 451 (a movie version was released in 1966). It depicts a society receiving all information and entertainment via mass media. Books are outlawed. If found, they are burned. Anyone owning a book is jailed. Hmmm, are we at the start of this type of society, with our ever-increasing dependence on social and mass media for all news, information (true and false), human interaction, and the diminishing value of data and facts? It seems apropos to describing today’s American zeitgeist.
Entering the gorge.
Stupas built into the cliffs.
Stupas on stone hills.
Stupas everywhere as evidence that the area is inhabited.
A hamlet along the river bank.
Life is simple, primitive.
As we approached our anchorage near Bhamo, the tour director announced a change in our Bhamo itinerary. Bhamo is the largest town in this region with a population of about 50,000 people of predominately Chinese heritage. When we first looked at the itinerary with a stop in Bhamo, three components were interesting. First, it is located just 40 miles from the Myanmar-China border and is an official border-trading town. Bhamo has been an important trading post dating back to the early Chinese Empires. It was already old when Marco Polo discovered it in the 13th century. It was the terminus for the caravan route to China. Consequently, its culture might be different from our other Myanmar stops. Second, it is the highest navigable point of the river. We were the first tour boat to visit the town. Finally, it was along the Burma Road, constructed during WW II. This was the most interesting part. I wanted to see and visit this infamous road. The Burma Road doesn’t go through Bhamo, but is situated a short distance north, requiring us to travel through some of the jungle.
Approaching our destination – Bhamo.
As the Japanese army successfully pushed into China during World War II, the Chinese army, under the leadership of Chiang Kai-shek, retreated to the Southeastern part of China, adjacent to Burma. To help stop the Japanese advance, the Allies agreed to supply Chiang Kai-shek’s army. They decided the supply depot would be in located in Ledo, India. The challenge was to find an effective and efficient way to reach the Chinese army. The immediate alternative was to airlift the supplies. The pilots named the air route through the Himalayan range “The Hump.” It was very treacherous. It was very successful, but at a great cost. During its operational period from 1942 to 1945, we lost 594 aircraft and 1659 personnel. The airlift was to fill in until the Burma Road was completed. The construction of this thousand-mile-long Ledo-Burma Road, was led by the American military and was to be the primary supply route. It took more than 50,000 American and local workers to build the road. Sixty percent of the 15,000 American soldiers were African-Americans. Eleven hundred Americans died during the construction, which was completed just as the war was winding down. It never measured up to its highly touted potential. Interestingly, Winston Churchill, early on, advised the Americans that it would be too costly and too late to have any impact. He was right.
Today, most of the road has been reclaimed by the jungle. Some sections are rutted, muddy tracks barely passable on foot. Only a few sections are used for local purposes. The biggest deterrents for use beyond the harsh environment are the Burmese, Indian, and ethnic insurgents who clash along its path. As a result, the security people on our ship decided that it was far too risky for us to travel the short distance from Bhamo to the road. The excursion would be limited to a visit to the city. Sigh!
‘Lovely’ river entrance to Bhamo.
After dropping our anchor, I could readily see yet another ‘rose garden’ that we would have to navigate to reach town. It was a very hot and muggy day. I asked Tin, given that we were not going to see the Ledo-Burma road, whether it was worth the time and effort to go ashore. Checking to see if anyone around us was listening, he smiled softly and said, “No.” It was much dirtier than anyplace else we had been, and there was nothing of note, unless we wanted to see another open market. I decided to revert to the sanctuary of my mind, stay on board the Anawrahta, and work on my blog.
Sitting in the open air lounge, it was very quieting just watching the shore. The occasional sip from my cup of very bad coffee would jar me and pierce my momentary focus. Activity ashore was very subtle and sparse, like watching colorful ants scurrying about. I realized that I move between three different states: participation, observation, and reflection. I don’t know if there are only three, if they are the right ones, or if they have ‘legs.’ In the snapshot of today, they seem right. After a while, I may have uncovered a fourth state, as I was overcome by the need for a nap. Later, refreshed, I was ready to write. Before long, the shuttle boat returned with its load of very hot and tired passengers, all eager for the customary greeting of a refreshing cold drink and towel, before dashing to take a shower. Several who went ashore confirmed that I had made the right decision to stay on board. No souvenirs, just a few photos, and very little discussion bore testimony.
The main street in Bhamo
Bharmo ‘UPS’ loading up its truck.
Shortly thereafter, we pulled up anchor and started moving downstream to moor near the town Kyunttaw, which we will visit tomorrow.
Comentários