Saturday, 1 February 2014

The Mandalay Express (or choooo choooo bump!)


At Katha we caught a very dusty bus to Naba train station. The 12 mile journey took an hour along the bumpy twisty unpaved road. It took over thirty minutes to book two seats in first class, the last tickets for the train. The train had ten carriages and over 800 of us were packed in like sardines. We were lucky, as Naba station were only allowed to sell two first class tickets (& no other type of tickets) to 'foreigners' per train, so it was a good job we were travelling off the beaten track!

It would have been difficult to commute to work on this train. Firstly electricity was intermittent and obviously there was no internet to check your emails. The buffet car was non-existent (no latté) but this gap in the market had been taken up by many fried food entrepreneurs; fried sparrow anyone? Thirdly, it was bumpy enough to give a Grand National jockey an aching bottom!

Timetables were visionary, by that I mean just out of sight as both the station master and the ticket collector were unsure at what time we would reach our destination. When the train got really slow, passengers jumped off at a station to by a drink and then were able to rejoin it a few carriages down. When the rails got really bad, the train stopped, as if to rhetorically ask 'do I really have to continue?' 

'First class' meant you had a seat. It was a great travelling method to met folks, especially as they were literally at your feet. We were offered to share sticky rice steamed in bamboo, oranges, sunflower seeds and a beer. We responded by proffering some boiled sweets about the carriage.

Jolting into Shwebo station at 1.15am we disembarked into the cold darkness onto the wrong side of the tracks. We could see some small fires on the other side. Stepping in the direction of the platform we found ourselves standing between our departing train and an incoming train, both awkwardly stuttering forward. For a second I was a train jumper in the Great Depression.

Katha's river front and monastery

Cows seem to roam freely, its more like being in India

Tomatoes are obviously a popular dish

Nabba train station

More free, fat and happy cows wandering the tracks, it seems udderly crazy!

View from 1st class


Ayeryarwady (Irrawaddy) River - Day 3


The next stage of our river trip was from Bhamo in the Katchin State to Katha in Sagaing Division. Saturday’s departure at 9am from Bhamo was not a smooth one. On leaving the harbour we hit a substantial submerged sandbank and floundered for ten minutes, until the repeated thrusts of the engines pushed us through using brute force. Next we hit the bank, the crew shouted and the engine cut. We thought that the propeller might be damaged due to over-revving whilst beached. Two hours after setting sail we were still marooned and within a short swim of Bhamo. We were right, the effort to force the boat through the sandbank first bent and then sheared the prop shaft leaving it and the propeller somewhere in the silty river! Whilst 3 boys were sent wading through the shallow waters to try to find and retrieve it, a spare one was prepared and fitted in the shallows near the riverbank!

We decided that the person at the wheel must have been a novice, or very unlucky, as we got wedged a couple more times on sandbanks. Finally the channel deepened and we started moving more smoothly. Apparently the hills along this stretch were places of Buddha’s Youth Era. The river narrowed through a rock-lined cut for seven miles. We saw the famous Parrots Beak, a rock duly painted to look like a parrot. The local boatmen use this as a water level marker. When the water level reaches to the parrot’s beak (like the parrot is drinking the water) it is usually impossible for the boats to go upriver because of the very strong current.

The river then opened out to a very wide, flat vista.  The river became so wide it was hard to see what we were passing on the distant banks. The no frills public boat was running 2-3 hours late but this seemed normal to the locals we were bumping elbows with. The hawkers were more abundant on this stretch and for lunch we brought some vegetables, boiled rice and a fish skewered and barbequed on a stick.

The charge for passage to Katha was 12,000 khat, which equated to about $12, the locals paid 5,000 khat. This system of a greater foreigner fee applied on each river trip we took and trains and buses.  The ferry accommodated about 80 passengers. I use the word accommodate loosely as the seats were arranged so close together we couldn't actually sit properly in them, furthermore under each seat was stored large bags of cargo, so we perched in our seats for the 8 hours.

Reaching sleepy riverside Katha we eventually found a very basic cell-like room in a guesthouse on the riverfront. In 1926/7 Katha was briefly home to British colonial police officer Eric Blair, better know by his pen name of George Orwell. He apparently used this outpost as the setting for his novel 'Burmese Days'. Strolling around town a few older teak buildings were visible, but this literary link had obviously been missed by their tourist information office (if they had one). There was no indication of which buildings held any historical or literal significance so we just wandered around and soaked up the atmosphere of the bustling little town.

Hawkers selling breakfast and lunch

Emergency repairs on the riverbank

People eking out a living on the sandbanks during the dry season

The 9:45 monk express to Bhamo

The chap at the front of the boat has a bamboo depth gauge, this crew definitely needed to use it more often


Not THE Golden Rock but a very good copy

The Ox is essential in this isolated but fertile land






Thursday, 30 January 2014

Myanmar Map

The map below shows are travels over the past two weeks in northern Myanmar and the modes of transport used. The government still prohibits foreigner travel further north than Mytikyina without permits and a guide and the Chin state to the north west still has highly restricted access, therefore we've been as far north as we can go. Tomorrow we head to Yangon to explore the south of this amazing country.

At the bottom of each post there should now be a link to our current location on google maps - check it out.



Ayeryarwady River Day 2


As the bed at Sinbo was just a rafia mat on a board we were smug that we'd brought our own sleeping bags and a bedding rafia mat each as, at least mentally, we were more comfortable. Although the cockerel crowing competition started at five, and the pigeon race on our tin roof was hotly contested, we arose well rested.

We watched the ladies preparing lunch as we ate our breakfast of bananas and green tea, seated next to a giant poster of Avril Lavinge. Small cauldrons of chicken pieces in a red sauce, stir fried broccoli, slightly mashed chick peas, boiled eggs in sauce and steamed rice were set out. The round stacked tiffin boxes then appeared, soup went in the first layer, then each compartment was filled in turn. Some portions had chillies added, others got no meat - depending on the diners preference. Once stacked the tin layers where secured and the tiered lunch box was ready to go. Beats a pre-packed sandwich any day!

On Friday 24th we caught a small ferry boat out of Sinbo at 10.30am. It carried an average of 10 people and left promptly. The monk had the best (largest) seat. The encircling terrain became hilly. The river was cutting down and we passed through rocky outcrops and pebbly shores. The flowing water was a constant murky brown and did not entice us to have a dip. The combination of the natural resources surrounding the river and the relatively cheap transportation means provided by the downstream flow has lead to many small communities eking out a living from the land.

We could see paths leading up from the bank into the woods. A large amount of bamboo had been cut from the forest. It was bundled up into stacks like hay, then these were lashed together to make very large rafts. Little hamlets of the grass cutters families lived on these rafts. When enough bamboo had been harvested the whole raft was floated downstream with houses, mothers and children on board. Bamboo is widely used to form the girders and walls for  buildings such as houses and schools. Alongside the river we saw many basic bamboo houses and shelters. It's also used to make all types of furniture, scaffolding, cooking utensils - it's a pretty versatile raw material.

Dark wood chips on the shores were signs of teak felling. Removed from the forest in the dry season these giants were cut into planks or posts and floated down river. I read that Myanmar 'holds 75% of the worlds teak reserves'. Maybe this is a relative claim as I'm not sure there are many of these highly prized hardwood left in the hills.

The gold mining camps were prolific and vast sways of riverbank had been blasted away by jet washing. Every few hundred metres a small group of tents worked their claim, families or small gangs, washing, sluicing, panning and living. There were boats working in groups in search of these deposits, washing the sediment down afro-turf sluices. Ladies panned the sparkly dirt collected in the afro-turf seeking the precious flecks.

We had numerous stops at gold camps or nameless sand banks to collect or drop off passengers or cargo (often diesel, once a motorbike).

Once through the hills the Ayeryarwady River stretched wider and occasional coconut trees appeared on the shores. More settlements dotted the banks, some well established with stupas. Pigs, buffalo and chickens wandered about. The land flattened out and crops of maize became more frequent.

Passing young men washing in the harbour channel next to piles of plastic rubbish we made Bhamo about 4pm. Hotel choice was limited because, as foreigners, we are restricted where we may stay. We'd booked ahead at the 'Friendship hotel' and enjoyed a hot shower. The hotel provided a good range of complementary room toiletry goodies; the most unusual was the tea-flavoured toothpaste.

We chose a nearby restaurant for dinner and were pleasantly surprised at how good the food tasted. Chris went for fried chicken and Thai fried chicken rice, I had garlic pork ribs and a spinach dish. When the bill arrived it was much more than expected and so Chris raised the matter. Mysteriously the bill was soon reduced, albeit with profuse apologies from the owner.


Lunch being transferred into a lunchbox tier at Sinbo, you can see the stacked tin lunch boxes on the shelf behind

Down the river with our fellow passengers on a much smaller boat

Motorbikes at the front and monks in the middle, everyone else fills in the gaps

The larger more established mining camps have shops, the women wash the clothes whilst the men rest in the shade

These bamboo rafts can hold a number of families or work gangs, sheltering under makeshift tarp tents

The camps are seasonal as the water level is to high in the wet season, hoses wash the silt from the bank through sluice traps

Some sluice designs have matting at the bottom (like astro-turf) to catch the heavier minerals

Some stretches where deposits are greater have small camps every few hundred metres


Some more established camps can be worked nearly all year round on the upper slopes

Gasoline is a common cargo for generators and water pumps


A boat is an essential commodity here, few roads or tracks reach the river at these upper reaches

Bamboo harvested from the forest to be exported downstream


Fellow passengers hailing a ride



Women panning the residues from the traps to reclaim their precious flecks


Taxi!!

Some bigger operations using boats sluice at one end and live at the other

Our fellow passenger the monk disembarked


The two essential modes of transport for this region, the boat and the ox