INLE LAKE

This is a truly fascinating place. Yesterday I spent the whole day out on and around Inle Lake. Its a big one, maybe not as big as Lake Titicaca (that's a guess), certainly not as big as Lake Superior, (which looks like the ocean, and took me three days to ride around half of its perimeter) but boy, is it different! And busy. Here is the chaos at one of the local jetties in Nyaung Schwe, where heaps of people were scrambling to get on or off the long, narrow wooden boats with the inboard engines and the big long propshafts. Not all were tourists, there was a lot of local traffic too.

A short run down the river took us, being my guide and me, out onto the lake proper. The lake is famous for many things, but one is the unique one legged stance of the fishermen, who use one leg to paddle an oar while standing on the end of a long shallow wooden boat, wielding a net at the same time. Tricky!

Just like that. The above photos cost me 5,000 Kyat. Why? Because I got sucked in! These acrobatic guys were waiting just past where the river enters the lake, where the tourists are at their most enthusiastic, and as soon as they saw me pointing my camera, they all started putting on these antics. And they were laying it on thick. At the same time, the boat driver backed right off the throttle, the boat slowed as it came off the plane, and next thing there were three "fishermen"all grabbing the side of the boat and demanding payment! I had just been scammed, and I can't believe I fell for the oldest trick in the book. The guide looked at me, expressionless, as in "nothing to do with me". I had been led into an ambush, but then I saw the funny side and cracked up laughing. It only cost about a dollar a photo anyway. Meanwhile, the real fishermen, like this one below, were too busy fishing to take any notice of the tourists.

We continued across the lake and into some wide channels at the south western corner, where the locals live in whole suburbs of houses built on stilts, over the water, to a placed called In Dein, where there were more stupas and tourists than you could poke a stick at.

The stupas in this area are quite different from those I saw elsewhere, particularly at Bagan. This is due to a significant ethnic difference in the people here. They are also in poor repair, due to the internal conflicts rampant in Myanmar. The locals have been busy fighting the Government for years, and this area was only declared safe 18 years ago, according to the guide. Nonetheless, it was quite a fascinating and bizzare place to walk around.

And just then, through the middle of all that.....

We continued on, back into the boat, to see what we could see.

These guys were collecting sand off the bottom of the channel, to sell,  I was told. In this area, the channels were shallow, and every so often, you would see a pile of sandbags on the levee bank just above the waterline, which were in effect sluice gates to let water into or out of the adjacent rice paddies. Wherever you go, farmers are quite ingenious people. In this area, I saw a lot of people washing their pots and pans, their clothes, their kids and themselves, in the channels. Ok, no prize for guessing my next question.

See that little bit attached to the side of the house? Yeah, well, not every house has one, but the whole idea was enough to put me off ordering fish till I get back to the coast. Make that the Australian coast.

I might not have a dunny, but I've got satellite TV. The other thing missing in Myanmar is flywire. Yes, alright, you could get malaria or dengue fever. But - and here's the real bonus - you can spit straight out the window. And there's an awful lot of that going on, believe me. Men, women and kids, everyone's doing it.

The main business in this region of the lake, apart from fishing, is growing vegetables, mostly tomatoes. They are, in effect, hydroponically grown on floating islands of vegetation, which are staked to the lake- bed with bamboo, to stop them being blown away by the wind. The whole production process is done by boat, little flat wooden jobs like this one below. Quite incredible.

Then the produce is taken to Nyaung Schwe and other lakeside towns by boat, then trucked all over the country.

Where there are people, there are temples. Some on dry land, some on poles above the water. These are the girls who organise the boat traffic at the entrance to a particularly significant one. Yelling out instructions to boatmen, passengers, and anybody else within earshot.

All in all, a great day of sightseeing. I can honestly say I've never seen anything like this before.

This morning, I ventured into town again, as the Internet had been down in this part of town for nearly two days. And it still drops out whenever it feels like it. There was a market happening, and as usual it was full on. Sights, smells, hustle and bustle. Busloads of people had come in from the outlying areas to sell or to stock up. It wasn't hard to tell the ones from the sticks.

 How about the scales!

This lady, below, was skinning and slicing durian, the worst smelling fruit on the planet (tastes great though!). Even so, it came a distant second to the stench emanating from the open drain running through the middle of the market, full of rotting fruit and veg, mixed with stagnant black stormwater. I think I would put it in my top 5 of all time on the stench-o-meter.

Now, fellow bikers, check this out.

I thought, hello, things are looking up, there's a KTM. Fancy a ride on a Super Dake. Yes, DAKE.

OK then, Honda XR or Yammy TTR? No, its a Toyomax. Of course it is!

OK, my final offer, a CBR. Not a Honda CBR, a Kenbo CBR. Ken-what??

Oh, bo. These are all Chinese, and I just don't know how they get away with this kind of blatant rip off. Its completely outrageous! Are the lawyers all too busy suing people for jaywalking? I am reliably informed that just about every set of wheels around here comes from China. This has to be hurting the Japanese, big time. They cost about  third of what you'd pay for a Jap equivalent. When they melt or fall apart in about a years time, you just throw it away and then you just go and buy another one. Not a bad marketing strategy. Maybe Donald Trump is right about China. (Can't believe I just said that, but I think he's nailed it!). Would this happen in Australia? Could this ever happen in Australia? Would we buy cheap Chinese crap instead of a reliable quality product? Well, friends, we are already doing it every time we go to the supermarket or to Bunnings. Read the labels. And I reckon that's only the thin end of the wedge. Having exported our manufacturing industries to Asia and priced ourselves out of the market, we are about to get shat upon from a great height. All the while making lattes for each other, and suing those damn jaywalkers. She'll be right mate. Yeah??

Might have to test ride one of those Super Dakes though. It's probably better than the real thing.

TO VEE OR NO TO VEE? THAT IS THE QUESTION

Look, I don't want to lower the tone of this blog any more than necessary, but I just have to get the tissue issue out in the open. I've used toilets all over the place. I've used some where they don't even have a bog roll. If you didn't BYO, then you are going to walk out of there with a wide gait like Tony Abbot. All you can do then is waddle straight home. I've used the good old 3x2x1 army latrine while out on bivouac. Only the army could specify a required size for a hole in the ground to crap into, but I suppose at a pinch, it could double up as a weapon pit in case of sudden attack. In fact, I've since found its better if you don't dig a hole at all, and I'm prepared to discuss this in appropriate detail at a suitable time. I've been to dark places full of redbacks where all you've got to work with is a few torn- up pieces of newspaper stuck on a nail next to the throttling pit. I've had to use those morale sapping starting blocks they still have in some so-called civilised countries. What a god awful predicament they are. I've been to some places and just said "kill me now".

But on this trip, in every single place I've stayed in, without exception, somebody has pre-folded the loose end of the bog roll into a nice, neat tidy V shaped point. Every single day! I mean, talk about class! I won't hear a bad word said against the hospitality industry this country, it's the Switzerland of Asia in this regard. God only knows what the locals do, but such conjecture is inappropriate and unhelpful. And not only that, most of the facilities there is one of those hosepipes hanging on the wall next to the karzi for you to use if you accidentally set fire to something while you're in there. I mean, they anticipate every possible need!

Look at that! Its not the best one I've ever seen, but it is tradesmanlike, and in keeping with a lot of things here.

I just don't know how I'm going to adjust to life back in Australia. I don't know how I will be able to accept anything less from the Budget Motel Chain, country pubs, caravan parks, roadhouses, and yes, I feel I must say this, even friend's houses, than the nice little welcoming V shaped point on the end of the bog roll. And I'm talking about before I go in there. I reserve the right to tear it to shreds, but that's my business, not yours.

Now that we have dispensed with that important issue, we shall say no more about it. Maybe.

GOIN' UP THE COUNTRY, GOT TO GET AWAY....

Glad I saved the $400 on the balloon flight at Bagan. I flew from Bagan to Heho yesterday, and I got a window seat on the plane, and I saw every goddam temple in one hit, for free. Thirty five minutes of white knuckles and grinding teeth later, (that's flying in Myanmar!) I was collected at the airport by a new driver. Our initial conversation went like this:

Missa Grin??
Yeah, that's me, call me Mike.
Yes Missa Grin Mike.
No, just Mike.
Yes.
Why did they want to see my passport just now, after I got off the plane. I've only flown from Bagan, not from outside the Country.
Yes.
But its a local flight, not an international one, and anyway its finished now, so whats the point?
Yes.

At that point, I gave up. It was the "Goat is dead" conversation I had in Nepal all over again. Anyway, it was a quiet drive up to Kalaw, another hill station, another corner of a foreign field that will be forever England. I stayed in an old dump of a place built in 1903, looking like Fawlty Towers, and it tried its best to recapture past glories. Starting by charging exhorbitant bar prices. But it did have some fascinating photos and sketches of the very early days hanging on the walls of the bar and restaurant. Two in particular caught my attention. The first was a photo of a native wearing nothing but a headpiece and a loincloth, taking aim with a small bow and arrow at something up in the trees. The second was a sketch entitled  "The fleet sets sail from Andaman for Rangoon", and it showed a fleet of some dozen or so men o'war weighing anchor. Life for the natives was about to change. If the world's most powerful navy sails into your country and says "we'll take it from here" and all you've got is a bow and arrow, well, you're buggered aren't you?

BASIL !!

This region is now a major market garden area, supplying most of the country, and very busy and productive. Check the size of the avocados. The hand grenades are some kind of custard apple.

No sooner had I got there, than we were driving back down the mountain again, heading for Nyaung Schwe, better known as Inle Lake, which is well on its way to becoming a major tourist magnet. On the way, we stopped at another temple, this one very significant, apparently. The guide looked a bit crestfallen when I said "What else ya got?" A little further along, we went through some major roadworks, and then he couldn't understand why I was busy taking photos, but I'm sure you will.

These workers are mostly women, they are all wearing sandals and they are carrying rocks in whicker baskets from the sorting and grading area immediately above, to the site, where somebody has heated 44 gallon drums of bitumen on a wood fire, and someone else has applied the hot bitumen through watering cans (yes, true) onto the roadbase, ready to stick the rocks onto. Freakin amazing! They did have a steel wheeled roller though, but it didn't appear to be doing anything. Maybe they didn't want to wear it out.

We finally got to Inle Lake, and that was it for the day. I was free, and it was only lunchtime. Revelling in my new found freedom, I immediately grabbed a map, and my camera, and went to do one of my favourite things. I immersed myself in Nyaung Schwe by foot. Come with me and enjoy!

These diabolical things are all over the country, and I have been wanting to get a shot of one since I got here. They come from China, have no bonnet, a small diesel engine that sounds like a golf ball rolling around inside a clothes dryer, and no guards of any sort over the belts and pulleys. What could possibly go wrong? Goodbye fingers, clothing, hair or anything else if it gets too close. They are mainly used by farmers and construction workers and the guide tells me they are called, in Burmese, "Chinese buffalos" proving that humour transcends any language barrier!

These are not Chinese, and are not buffalos either. They are called cows, but just not as we know them. The farmer actually smiled at me when I pointed the camera at him. You never quite know how they're going to take it, but so far, no real dramas.

Ditto, with these ladies in traditional dress in the back of a truck. Myanmar has eight states, based largely on ethnic lines, and a heap of smaller ethnic divisions and dialects within each one. This has proven to be a problem, particularly when some reckon they are not getting their fair share of the pie, and has led to the ongoing civil war in parts of the country. Some parts are still verboten to foreigners.

I've never seen a live one! I need to get out more.

Hoi, you, Dickhead! Can't you read the sign??  Eerr, well, er, ...no!  And now, speaking of signs, here are some which I could read.

 I suggested to Caz that she should diversify and offer cooking lessons while she's massaging. Now she's not talking to me.

 And this is a shop for....?

 See, it's the new craze, everyone's doing it here.

I said I could read it, not understand it. Now, as for these below, it's not often I laugh out loud in the street.

As for the last one, maybe I better just leave it alone. Oh, ok, one more. Glad I'm not staying in this place.

About now, it started to rain, but I could not have cared less. Well so far this has been an interesting look around Nyaung Schwe. Yes, its touristy, or getting that way. I wandered down to the jetty area, somewhat unintentionally, and started to get accosted by boat drivers touting for business, for lake cruises. This is THE main thing here. But it was all pretty soft and polite, they have a long way to go before they really get in your face and make you want to kill them, like they do in India. Its also got a kind of hippy vibe right now. Showing my age, ok hipster vibe then. Lots of young Euro backpackers, mostly clean cut, but then some of the real freaks like the ones that used to go to Goa, Kathmandu and Morocco in the 70's, Thailand in the 80's or Pokhara about 10 years ago.  Well, ok, they have to go somewhere, and the world is running out of places like this.

There are also a lot of, ehem, more mature age visitors like me, who want it a bit more upmarket. I guess that's really because the country has only just reopened its doors, and now everybody wants in. I had lunch in a very nice restaurant suggested by my guide. It suddenly occurred to me that everybody in the place - and there were 5 other tables occupied- was Dutch. I had to listen hard, but pretty soon there it was. To me, Dutch is like German, except its like German played to slow music, more lyrical than gutteral, and peppered with lots of "yerp yerps" and "hoo-dee-hoodies". Not unlike the Swedish chef from the Muppetts. No offence.

More random photos from my reconnaissance patrol. Its pretty basic in some parts.

 See, there it is again. Travel AND Laundry. You have to diversify.

I certainly can't do that! 

I think life for the natives here is about to change, yet again. And I really hope we foreigners don't stuff it up for them. And now finally, one last shot. This is my bed for the next three nights. I thought I got the bridal suite, but no, this is a genuine mozzie net. Well, there's water everywhere around here. Could they be any worse than the ones in Chitwan National Park in Nepal? If three of those landed on you at the same time, they could fly away with you.

So far, all the mozzies I have seen around here are actually pretty small, but apparently, that doesn't matter.

OK, late inclusion. Again, I pointed the camera at this shop, just as this guy walked out. He thought I was snapping him, so he stopped and smiled. They are just terrific people here.

If you can zoom in on the green sign just above the door, you will note with interest, as I did, that this shop sells a product known as Stallion Lubricant. Should I just leave it at that? Probably! Or should I buy a can or two for Peter Jolly or Trevor Thomas, fellow Ulyssians and both ex-racehorse trainers??