Travel Report 26: On the road from Mandalay

Even though I can not seem to let go of Mandalay I really should show you Pyin Oo Lwin. Another escape-the-heat-and-sun-because-our-greedy-wallets-bit-of-more-then-our-rosy-cheeks-could-swallow British hill station. They built these all over their empire for their poor martyred henchmen souls to escape from scorching and/or humid summers – pussies those red coats, I tell you. First they take all your crap, then they complain that its too steaming hot. Your climate, get your mind out of the gutter. One could never satisfy those old imperials. If they didn’t like the heat, they shoulda stayed up on that frigid unfriendly island of theirs. There is a crazy pre-great-flood (no, I don’t believe the flood actually happened, neither did Noah, its a freakin’ figure of speech) train heading up into the mountain, which U Volker and I did not want to take. Leaving at 4AM is a little too early, and you know, it seems as if it will be any day now, that this train will not make it up the rather steep grade to the hill station, and instead start rolling backwards at post-hyper-drive age speeds for a short distance and then fly off into empty real space. We didn’t want to have anything to do with that so we decided to instead take Mr M’s trooper of a car.

trooper

Any imported car, and they are mostly 30 year old hand-me-downs, cost an average of 50k. Yes, US Dollars. Those are import fees. So when you look at the car and see a 30 year old POS think of it as being the equivalent of a medium size BMW. Can you imagine owning a BMW if you live in any other third world country? And then it doesn't even do all those cool Beemer things. Also the car did not have much more of a chance to make it up that bloody mountain, but how am I going to push a train if it doesn’t want to move anymore?

The ride is fascinating. Very steep, with a very immediate change of climate and fauna. Everywhere there are tea and coffee plantations and many government installations. After the Brits left, Burma fell apart and the Junta took over, the Junta subsequently claimed these prime spots. One can not say they did not learn from the Brits. Myanmar's Westpoint is up here, as are all the finest school of the various Junta Government Branches. One area is the new Burmese-Shan-Mountain Silicon Valley. A huge, carved into the mountainside, complex which apparently will start an internet revolution in Burma. All those none-principled Indian software geniuses, being busy little bees, setting up the Information Highway of Burma's dark future. This highway will not be light up brightly, it will not contain multitudes, and many roadblocks will make movement arduous. Yet even in Burma the spirit of gratis open internet channels thrives in any and all internet shops around the littlest town. Everything is blocked except google. You can google chat, google foto, google email. I still don't understand the deal that the Junta made with google. Or should we believe that google code is too smart for those none-principled Indian Software geniuses to block? Hardly. In any case if you do not use google, or want to access some blocked sites, I suggest going through a proxy server setup. The fastest internet connection I had in-country was in Bamo, the pipe came in from China. Go figure. I guess the China teak/rubber business man wants his Skype to work flawlessly.

We finally arrive in Pyin Oo Lwin. Three beautiful Shan Princesses are from here, and apparently nearly singlehandedly chased an old friend of U Volker out of the country back in the stone age (1960s). I guess the man could not deal with his own effect on the ladies anymore. That, or these weird miniature Wells-Fargo horse drawn carriages were too much for him.

Wells Fargo, Phil should get a kick out of this

Inhabitants of the town are much more ethnically diverse than in towns of the burmese lowlands. Up here on the south-eastern outskirts of the Shan States the cultures mix. Shan, Karen, Kachin and Burmese and many of the smaller tribes are present and known by their garb. There is also a large contingent of Indian and Muslim merchants here.

Minarets?

Remnants of the British empire under whose rule this town was booming. Most of those had been forced out after Ne Win's Coup d'etat, but some still remain. The town is strange, less friendly, more on guard.

this dude is not so much on guard, but en fashion guard

We ourselves are already on edge after seeing the military and government installations right next to the newly built luxury hotels and spas - for western tourists with their heads very far up the dark recesses of their backsides. If your head is stuck there, so that you do not realize who died building your surprisingly cheap luxury diggs, and into whose pocket your money goes, then my dear, you are a cretin not fit to travel outside your own country. You should stay at home and try to be as inconspicuous as you possible can.

We head straight to the train station, where we hope to meet the train coming from Mandalay and going further up the Shan Plateau. We want to take the train because it goes over the biggest steel bridge in the world at the time of its building shortly after 1900. The Gokteik Viaduct is another remnant of French/British colonial ambitions clashing. It is like Africa today, where China and the rest of the world trip over each others feet while building infrastructure projects in order to win the locals over to their sides in order to be allowed to scrape the last resource out of that dark earth for your hungry consumerist gullets. From the condition of the train and the wobbling of its under carriage whilst moving we determine not to consider risk in the face of danger. I think I said it before: The Seasoned Traveler sometimes throws caution to the wind and lets the chips fall where they may (my daily dose of ennui inducing clichés is hereby fulfilled).

We share the wagon with a French lemming herd and our food with some local commuters. We wanted the cheap seats in the back but white people must sit in first class. Slowly the train chugs up and up into wide valleys. Asian cliché picture moments are a constant on either side. I recommend sitting on the right as it tends to afford a view of valleys passing by. Here the paddies are already past harvest time, as opposed to the low-lying plains where rice will not be harvested until weeks from now. Various stops along the road afford opportunities to buy local amoebic delicacies from local anorexic looking folk. There is most definitely a difference in the wealth and diet of the mountain tribe peoples of Burma compared to the Burmese. We stick to pealable fruit and roasted nuts of one kind or another. As we approach the gorge spanned by Gokteik Viaduct the french lemmings go foto nuts. It is mildly infectious. Kind locals point to especially appealing vistas, which are as usual too wide and fancy for my puny digicam. Sometimes the Seasoned Traveler must rely on the souvenirs of his mind in the face of insurmountable obstacles (more cliché, I know, sorry).

We stop at the last station before the viaduct, and are reminded again, not to take any pictures when crossing over - Big Junta Brother's paranoia about the strategic importance of this bridge in case of the always impending US attack is amusing. So the lemmings go even nuttier because here is their last chance at a shot of the bridge.

nuttie lemmings

Shortly after we move on and cross the thing on which it is forbidden to take a picture. So I take two. Although the CIA hasn't asked me for them yet. Maybe I overexposed them too much.

Hell, I might have even taken more than 2

Its nothing special, we stop at the next station, U VOlker and I get out, are met by ever reliable Mr M. and drive back across the Plateau to Pyin Oo Lwin. The viaduct was definitely a case of the journey being the goal of the trip. But the journey on this train, accross this plateau, I recommend to anyone.

And if anyone is looking for a reasonably priced guide in the Mandalay region I can only to highly recommend Mr. M, whose details I will gladly provide.