Inle Lake

On to Inle Lake, Myanmar’s second biggest tourist attraction, known for its diverse cultures, floating villages, and unique fishermen. I took a night bus from Mandalay and arrived into the main town around 5am. Why the night buses never leave a bit later so the passengers can arrive at a more reasonable time is still beyond me. Of course I hadn’t booked a hotel yet so I was at the mercy of my cab driver to find me a place. We arrived at the Primrose hotel, a very mediocre place on the outskirts of the town, of course at 5 am I’m not very picky, so it’ll do!

I slept through the morning, woke up, rented a bicycle, and checked out the town. I had a very western lunch of pesto penne and a chocolate milkshake, which was a welcome relief from all the oily Burmese food I had been eating. Later that afternoon I biked towards the lake, which is actually surprisingly far away from the main town, as the marshlands prevent you from getting anywhere near the main part of the lake itself on foot. But after an hour of biking I finally made it to one of the floating villages. It was really cool! Basically the whole village is built on stilts in the marshlands and boat is the only way to get anywhere. I’ve never seen anywhere quite like it actually. In the Philippines and Indonesia they have lots of villages built over the water on stilts, but they’re all interconnected by a series of planks, so boats aren’t necessary. Here all the villagers got around using little wooden skiffs similar to canoes. 

they have good balance

Eventually I found a guy to take me around in his canoe. We started off in the village and then he asked if I wanted to see the sunset out on the lake. Sure. He steadily paddled down a large canal that connected the village to the lake, while the bigger boats sped past. I kind of regretted this decision, as the real beauty of the place was back in the village, with the people going to and fro in their little wooden boats and using their unique one-legged, standing paddling technique. A sunset on a flat marshy lake in Myanmar looks very similar to a sunset over a marshy lake in Waukegan IL. But it was still pleasant obviously and I thoroughly the feeling of stealthily gliding through the glasslike water in the canoe.

That night I found some other people to hang out with and we decided to do the boat trip the next day. At Inle Lake, everyone does the boat trip at some point. It’s like the big thing. They take you in a motorized wooden boat, that fits maybe 5 or 6 comfortably, and you get to see all the sights the lake has to offer. You’ve got the market, the pagoda, the silk makers, the ironworkers, the goldsmiths, the wood carvers, the cigarette rollers, and whatever other attractions exist to separate the money from your wallet. The only place I actually liked was the market, as it not set up for tourists, so the people are just doing their everyday thing, rather than trying to convince you to buy their crap. But being in the boat was fun and watching the everyday life in the villages in the lake. Although I missed the canoe, which you can take in waterways much smaller than the big canals all the motorized boats take.

Some photos from the market

Around sunset time our boat made its way over to where the ‘traditional’ fishermen hang out, or as our boat driver called them, the money money fishermen. Now if you’ve seen just one photo from Myanmar, there’s a good chance that it’s a photo of one of these fishermen. Probably the most iconic photo in Myanmar is one of the fishermen with their big basketlike fishing nets out on the lake around sunrise or sunset. Variations of this photo are plastered all over the Myanmar guidebooks. I hate this photo! To begin, the traditional fishing method with big basket nets is not used anymore, as its been replaced by more current fishing techniques. So these fishermen are actually just performers, and they pose with one foot on their boat and the other holding up their basket, you take photos, and then they paddle over to your boat and ask money? money?

There are so many interesting and beautiful aspects about Inle Lake, but this is just simply not one of them! It annoys the hell out of me that the most iconic photo of the lake, and perhaps even of the country itself, is of this stupid tourist show. I did take the photos like everyone else, and paid the fisherman, (they're nice photo afteralls) but I refuse to put them in Myanmar gallery because they're just so horribly inauthentic.

Anyway it would be back to bicycles and canoes for me. Actually I enjoyed being in the little canoe so much from the other day that I felt compelled to find another part of the lake to do something similar. Many of the innumerable tour agencies in town offer customized trips, so I went into a few and explained that I’d like to take a boat out into the lake, go to any of the floating villages and get paddled around in a canoe. That’s it. But after walking into a few of the shops and making my proposal, you might have thought I was speaking in Russian. After explaining what I wanted basically every conversation went something like this:

Yes, we do boat trip. You want go to pagoda? You want go to silversmith? You want go to silk weavers?

No, No, and No. I just want to go to a floating village and have someone take me around in a canoe. That’s all.

You want go to market??

Damn it, No! None of that stuff. Just the little villages.

There’s nothing to see in the villages.

Look, can it be arranged or not?

No we can’t do anything like that. We can take you to the monastery though.

No! Thank you. Goodbye.

So much for that (seemingly reasonable) plan! I rented a bike again the next day and set out early to do a trip around the whole lake. Well apparently I misread my map (the canals look like the roads) and you can’t make it all the way around, so I had to negotiate with the boatsmen mafia, who agreed to take me across the lake to where more roads were, for a ridiculous price of course. Later that afternoon I found my way to the winery (yes, a winery in Myanmar!) which was the perfect place to rest my legs. Of course the wine was pretty bad, but whaddya expect?

Before sunset I made my way back over to floating village I had been to before. I found my boatsman and told him this time I just wanted him to take me around the village for a while in the canoe, which he was happy to do (I overpaid him quite handily the first time around). We glided through the perfectly flat, mirrorlike waterways, while villagers young and old paddled by in their rafts. Everything was beautifully illuminated by the golden evening light. This was how to experience Inle Lake! The effects of the wine didn’t hurt either. It was a good way to finish up my trip here, along with pizza and beer later. I headed to the capital, Yangon, the next morning, but here’s the photos from my canoe trip around the floating village along with some other random shots.

my guide

And that's all!

The Crappy Side of Traveling

It's not all fun and games

As almost all long term travelers know, at some point in the journey, your stomach is not going to agree with you, and sometimes it will get very angry with you. 

In many countries it seems almost impossible to not get the so-called Delhi belly at some juncture. While normally it’s just an annoyance, it can sometimes quickly turn into an all out emergency situation! And what this has taught most travelers is that it’s a damn good idea to keep some extra toilet paper around, because you never really know when you’re going to be scrambling to find that disgusting little squat toilet somewhere in southeast Turdmenistan.

Of course if you don’t have any paper, there’s always doing as the Indians do, ie using your bare hand! Although I’m pretty sure if I go the rest of my life without ever voluntarily touching my feces, I’ll have done something right. But even I myself have been caught without TP from time to time, but thankfully as an avid reader I’ve always had a book with me, one with, you know, a few pages to spare. 

So while I’ve made it through all these years of traveling relatively unsullied I certainly met my match in the dirty little port city of Bhamo, Myanmar. All thanks to a vicious batch of guacamole. You might be thinking “they have guacamole in Myanmar?” Well no they don’t, but they do have an abundance of avocados, tomatoes, onions, garlic, cilantro and chilli peppers. So after seeing all of these lovely, fresh ingredients all in front of me at the market I decided something had to be done. Guacamole must be made. I hadn’t had it in months, and the serving I did have was more like mashed avocado than anything else, so I was starting to crave it pretty bad. When I was back home in Chicago I needed to have my homemade guacamole fix at least once a week. And now I’m craving it again as I type!

But anyway I bought all the stuff at the market, turned the hotel tray with tea and cups on it into my cutting board, washed everything in preboiled water and got down to business. After about half an hour I had a mash of light green, creamy, a bit salty, guacamole goodness. I was going to let it sit in the fridge for an hour or two, maybe share it with some of the other travellers I met, while having a few beers at sunset, but first I needed just a few more bites. And then a few more bites. And after a few bites more I already knew that there would be no stopping me from finishing every last morsel. Ah it was so just good. God damn it I love guacamole. 

yes

About an hour later I slung my camera over my shoulder and headed down to the port a bit before sunset to take advantage of that soft, warm evening light. And that’s when the trouble began. First it was just a little gurgle, but no worries mate! Then when I was walking along the beach things suddenly turned violent. Somewhere inside me a massive upheaval was taking place. The happy little lives of my stomach acids had been hastily disrupted, taken surprise by this intruding bacterial army.

Now at the first signs of severe pain most people would be making their way back to their hotel right away. But not me, nope nope nope. The sun was getting close to setting, that big red beautiful Burmese sun, the port was bustling, and interesting photos were just begging to be taken! I would tough it out. Don’t want to miss out on a good photo! However inside my stomach the invaders were smashing through my intestinal gates with an overpowering strength. I didn’t know it yet, but the brown tide was coming. Fast.

I’m not exactly sure what I was thinking by not turning back. I had been lulled into the Burmese photography trance, and even the severe stomach pain was not releasing me from its siren song. I was feeling a massive amount of pressure, which in turn was taking massive amounts of energy for me to hold off. I was sweating profusely and taking lots of quick little breaths as each cyclical wave of misery, or contraction if you will, pulsed through me. At one point I squatted down to get the sun lower in the frame of my photo, and then it hit. A surge so powerful and painful that it could not be stopped. Code Brown. We have Code Brown. 

coincidentally this was one of my last photos of the evening

At 28 years of age I had shit my pants. Now it wasn’t that much, but nonetheless there was indeed a squishy brown residue residing in the seat of my beloved Illini basketball shorts. It had happened so fast.  I heard a voice in my head say, “The game’s over kid, go home, you lost.” Except I knew it wasn’t over. Just a fraction of Hershey’s gang had gotten through, the rest was still pushing, anxious to get out and see the world, to be free at last. I had to consider my options.

1.     The water. I could wade in waist deep and unleash. The pain will be over in seconds!

No, No, No, everyone would see you! Nobody ever swims in that pool of filth, ever! They’d know. They’d all know!!

2.     Find someone on the street, and ask where a toilet is. You know how to say that in Burmese! Someone will show you the way, they must!

No, No, No. No f’ing way! You want to just barge into someone’s home and ask if you can go Pearl Harbor on their toilet? Were you raised in a barn? 

3.     Make the walk back to the hotel. 15 minutes, that’s it. You can do it!

Yes, Yes. I think I can make it! Just gotta toughen up. Bear down. It’ll be fine.

And so I set forth on the long journey back to the sanctuary, the Friendship hotel. Yes, what a good friend I had back at the hotel; ceramic and white, welcoming me with an open lid! It would be a lovely reaquaintance. But until then it would be a test of will as the waves of intense stomach pain crashed through my body, dissipated, and then came back again even stronger. I waddled along, cheeks lubricated, body rigid, and face scrunched into some sort of smiling grimace, as if someone had just punched me in the face and then started tickling me. It was a very long 15 minutes. At one point I almost caved, letting a few squirts go, but managed to get regain my composure. Near the end, as the contractions were getting worse and worse, I thought of William Wallace in Braveheart, facing the cavalry attack, shouting to his men: hold, Hold, HOLD, HOLD!!

HOLD!

And with the courage of the Scotsmen in my heart (and bowels) I did indeed make it back to the hotel. Looking sweaty and I disheveled I gave the staff a friendly grimace as I power waddled past, down the hall to my room. I fumbled with the keys for what seemed like an eternity, barged through the door and in one graceful motion flung myself at the toilet while flinging down my shorts and let loose the maelstrom. In the moments following I might have reached nirvana. Well not really, but it certainly was zen like! In the end, while slightly embarrassed, I came out of the day with my head held high, as to not smell my befouled duds. And while my Illini basketball shorts may have ended their long healthy life in the trash can, covered in shit, I will always remember the good times we shared, as they provided me years of silky softness, easy access, and collegiate pride, while asking for nothing in return. RIP Illini shorts. 

Myitkyina and Beyond

Monks walk by in the primarily Catholic Kachin State

Onto Myitkyina! I arrived at around 7:00 and found my way over to the YMCA guesthouse, which doesn’t have any affiliation with the YMCA’s we have in the states, but it’s where all the tourists seem to stay in Myitkyina. I was told there was one room left, but when I was shown to the room it turned out that it was occupied. Hmm. That was a bit of a letdown, so I hit the streets again to find a new foreigner friendly hotel. It took much longer than one might have thought, but luckily it was decent, as I was going to take the room regardless of price or quality.

After talking to some other travellers I learned that the Manao festival was indeed cancelled this year, as all the ethnic groups weren’t exactly getting along too well. In fact it had been cancelled for the last 3 years! But for some reason procuring reasonable information like this from the internet beforehand was almost impossible. I decided to go the park where they used to have to festival and found a group of Kachin’s waving their flag and another group sitting in a circle eating and drinking. They saw me walking through and invited me to sit and eat with them. They told me all about how Kachins’ are systematically discriminated against by the government and encouraged me to eat and drink as much palm wine as I could handle. Eventually the music started playing and all the women got up and performed their traditional Kachin dancing, which was cool to see, the remnants of the Manao festival. 

traditional Kachin dancing

When I went to YMCA later that night to meet some other people I learned that there was actually a government organized Manao festival as well. Basically it was a mock festival, so that the government could say to the rest of the country that there was indeed a Manao festival this year, and that everything is all rainbows and unicorns here in the Kachin state. Apparently they had a couple generals there to stand around and smile as if the corners of their mouths were stapled while a few dance numbers carried on, and that was THE manao festival. “Yep, the festival is still on, nothing to worry about here! We’re not killing Kachins in civil wars or anything like that!!” Myanmar is an interesting country.

Traveling in the Kachin State is particularly difficult because the state has been ravaged by wars between the Kachin Independence Army (KIA) and the Burmese government. There have been cease-fires for the last few years, but the majority of places in the state are completely off limits due to the past fighting. In Myitkyina foreigners are allowed everywhere in the city itself, but most locations outside the city are strictly off limits. Although unlike most places in Myanmar I was able to rent a motorbike (for a hefty price) and went across the river to the one of the nearby cities that they allow foreigners to go to after a good grilling from the checkpoint guys. The signs of war were slightly visible along the road, with a couple of burned out and abandoned buildings. Many of the schools I past advertised that they were ‘drug free’ which would seem to go without saying, but apparently there is a large heroine problem among the Kachin youth. It was kind of a sobering ride. Even though the country is trying to open itself up to the rest of world, it still has many problems to work out.  Currently things much worse in the western Rakhine state, where Bengali Muslims refugees, known as the Rohingya, constantly battle the government backed Buddhist locals. 

I don't even know... but that is a lot of hay. And a strangely placed tube...

Awesome lighting conditions when they burn the trash along the road in Myitkyina

bicycles and motorbikes share the roads

So without the real Manao festival going on I decided I would fly back to Mandalay. When I went to book a flight I found out that everything was booked for the next few days, so I would have to wait a bit. I had also heard from a German guy I met that the river route down to Mandalay had just opened up again, after being closed to foreigners for the last two years, so I jumped at the chance to take that route. That’s the thing about Myanmar, things are always opening and closing at the governments’ whim, making even the most current guidebooks almost obsolete. A Lonely Planet from a few years ago would be basically worthless in Myanmar because things change so fast here.

It would be four days by boat down the expansive Irrawaddy river to get to Mandalay, but that seemed like a much better option than sitting around waiting for a flight in Myitkyina. After two days of hanging around not doing a lot, I caught the boat heading back down south. To be honest the scenery along the river is nothing to write home about. The river is extremely wide and muddy, flanked by large sand deposits, with forests beyond that. Along the river itself there really isn’t that much to see. Everyone once in a while you pass some small riverside encampments where they have machines to filter the water and rocks for gold. It’s relaxing I guess. 

our boat

I found her toes to be particularly aesthetically pleasing. I'm strange. 

After about 7 hours we finally reached our first destination, the village of Sinbo. It’s kind of ugly from a distance, as the shore is lined with big ugly ships, but the town itself is actually quite lovely. We threw our stuff down at the one guesthouse in town and then set off to explore the village. It’s one of those places, like many in Myanmar that feels like it has probably changed very little in the last century. Sinbo is characterized by dirt roads, very few motorbikes, farmers in the fields, livestock everywhere, and of course friendly, curious people. I walked around and took some nice photos before the sun went down. We all reconvened at the guesthouse and had lots of good Burmese food and not so good whisky, although the party ended a bit early as the electricity was shut off around 10:00. 

life along the river, Sinbo

all aboard!

scarfing down some noodles along the riverside encampments

Sinbo Sunset

The next day we boarded a new boat around 10 am, en route to Bhamo, a much larger port city. Once again the scenery was fairly mundane, similar to the previous day, and most of us were pretty content to lie down and nurse our hangovers for most of the morning. Another VERY relaxing day. More so than any other country I’ve been to, the transportation is just as much a part of the travel experience as the actual tourist sights. We arrived in Bhamo sometime in the late afternoon and found our way to the hotel that all the foreigners stay at, as they have an excellent English speaking staff. In Myanmar it’s common for tourists to all stay at only a handful of distinct hotels and guesthouse. First, only a few hotels have a license to house foreigners, and after only a few of those will have a decent English speaking staff, so they’re invariably popular.

I ended up staying in Bhamo for 3 three nights, which is more than anyone ever stays in Bhamo. I was told I could catch a flight back to Mandalay, which would save me two days of fairly boring boat travel. I made my ‘reservation’ with the hotel, which they made it sound like it was a sure thing that this flight would be going, but less than 24 hours before the supposed takeoff I was told by the hotel staff that the flight was cancelled. So that was irritating to say the least. Chalk it up to one of the hazards of Burmese travel I guess. So instead of saving a day and a half of travel it cost me an extra day. But to be fair I really did enjoy walking around Bhamo. There were no places to rent motorbikes or even bicycles (people here don’t like making easy money I guess), but a few kilometres outside of town is a really cool bamboo bridge that is over 500 meters long, as well as some nice pagodas. I can’t picture any structure in my head that is more authentically Burmese than a bamboo bridge. Almost anywhere else in the world they would have built a modern bridge consisting of concrete/asphalt/whatever but here in Myanmar people still cross this shaky (albeit strong) structure every day, walking their motorbikes or carrying goods for the market. Once again it makes you wonder what decade it is. And of course it makes for excellent photography opportunities as well. Bamboo bridge + monks crossing + sun rising = good photos!

busy portlife, Bhammo

smoke break

the bamboo bridge, my favorite place in Bhamo

monks cross at sunrise

the monkettes collecting alms

a lonesome umbrella

off to school

I have no idea what these things are, possible fishing traps of some kind. They looked cool in the morning mists though. 

After a couple days of sightseeing and stomach problems I was back on the boat again. I met up again with a Dutch couple that had stayed the night at a different riverside village. In the late afternoon we arrived in Katha, the same village I had visited via train about a week earlier. All of us were pretty tired of this boat trip so we decided to make our way to train station and get back to Mandalay by railway ASAP.  We took the bumpy hour+ trip to the train station from Katha only to find that a train wouldn’t be coming for another 6 hours! Also there were no upper class seats left. Or middle class seats. Only ordinary class. For 13 hours, on an overnight train, on hard wooden benches, squeezed in between Burmans. Shiiiit…

Well at this juncture we didn’t have too many options. Me and Dutch guy made what seemed like the most obvious decision, to buy lots of whisky and get drunk. We managed to catch the train at about 11 pm and find some open seats. We made lots of friends by offering the rest of our whisky bottl to the men around me, who downed it astonishing quickly. I slept for the rest of the night on my sleeping pad on the dirty floor in between the benches, and actually got a somewhat decent nights rest, which I attribute to the booze and my lack of shame. Around noon the next day we got off in Mandalay and found our way to our respective hotels to get actual sleep on a real bed. After spending the whole next day looking for an Apple laptop adapter (which apparently don’t exist in Mandalay) because mine was broken, it was on to the next destination, the fabled Inle Lake!

Getting off the beaten track: Rail journey to Myitkyina

The bumpy way

Man peers out the window to see why we're stopped

About 1,000 kilometers north of Mandalay lies Myitkyina, the capital of the Kachin State (The Kachins are the majority minority group in the North), and home to yearly Manao festival, where the Burmese, Kachins, and others get together, wear their traditional clothes, do a lot of dancing, and even more drinking. It’s supposed to be like a uniting of the tribes type celebration. It sounded pretty cool so I wanted to be in town for that. I'd talked to some people who said it would be cancelled this year, but after researching online I found almost zero information, so I decided to head that way regardless. Of course since it’s Myanmar getting there becomes a little more complicated. The two options are an hour-long flight or a 20+ hour train trip. I opted on the journey by rail, as I’d get to see some of the countryside and make a couple side trips along the way.

Woman carries all sorts of stuff on here head at Shwebo station

Passengers waiting at Shwebo Station

I departed from the friendly little town of Schwebo, about 3 hours northwest of Mandalay. Curiously at the train stations they will only accept US dollars from foreigners, which I had brought plenty of. The whole currency situation in Myanmar has always been a bit strange. It used to be that you had to bring in a big wad of crisp, uncreased, 100 dollar bills, which you would then convert to Kyat (Myanmar’s currency, pronounced chat). But you wouldn’t take this money to the bank or currency exchange, like you would in any other country. Oh, no.(unless you wanted to get a horrific exchange rate). Instead you would take it to the black market currency exchanges in Mandalay or Yangon and exchange your dollars for Kyats there. There also used to be no ATM’s available for foreigners so you would have to exchange all your money for the trip at one time, but leave yourself with enough spare dollars for the odd hotel or train station that wouldn’t accept the local currency. Fortunately now there are ATM’s available in all the touristy areas and currency exchanges give fair rates, although they are still very picky about the condition of the dollars they’ll accept. I had many of my bills turned down because they were a little bit worn, and some in perfect condition were rejected because they were too old! It would be perfectly acceptable anywhere else in the world, except Burma. I still have no idea why they make it such a big deal, but it’s annoying as hell to be sure.

they love their plaid and checkered shirts in Myanmar

sun coming at the station

Anyway, the train came into the station and I scrambled towards the appropriate cabin. I had bought an upper class ticket, which means you get a slightly padded, reclined chair. Not reclining chair, but a permanently reclined chair, which is nice for taking a nap, but not so convenient for those of us who like to sit up and watch the scenery go by. Probably the most notable part of the journey is the frequent bumpy sections, when the train doubles as an amusement park ride. It’s kind of exciting (and hilarious) at first when you hit one of these spots because the train will be lurching up and down and you really have to hold on tight in order to not get tossed from your seat. You have to be very diligent cramming your stuff into the overhead compartment because otherwise its coming down directly on your head. Of course after a few hours of intermittently being bounced around like a super ball, it begins to lose its appeal.

Another source of amusement is watching the train transform into a temporary market as soon as it pulls into the station. Hawkers prowl the aisles with goods and food sellers rush to the windows, selling hot dishes directly to the riders. Apparently each station is known for specializing in a specific Burmese delicacy. And then when the food is finished it’s remaining contents get tossed out where they originally came in, the window! Burmans are not well known for their waste management systems. In the first few hours of the trip I had ordered a beer, and after it had been rattling around on the floor for a while I asked the server guy if he could take it or if there was a trash can. He dutifully picked up my beer can, extended his arm out the window, and let go. Problem solved! Feeling kind of stupid I sheepishly thanked him for his upstanding service and went back to my book. Good ‘ole Asian attitudes to garbage… the ground is the trash can!

The train arrived that evening at my stop, so I hopped off and found my way to the truck/bus that takes people over the pitiful dirt road to the sleepy riverside town of Katha. The only slightly interesting thing about Katha is that it was the setting of George Orwell’s book, Burmese Days, which is a popular read when you’re in the country. So you can visit a few of the places in the book. I hadn’t read it yet, and even now that I have, seeing those places would would not interest me whatsoever, so it was kind of a boring place. But what was exciting was getting back to the train station by 6 am the following day. My motorbike driver came at 4:30 am to pick me up. I hopped on back and we hurtled our way through the darkness, moving at seemingly asinine speeds considering the quality of the road. The driver cleverly weaved through rocks and found flat spots in patches of broken pavement while I clung to the back. It was obvious he knew the road like the back of his hand, but it was still scary as shit. We got to the station just in time, I paid the man, thanked him for psychotic driving, and hopped on board. At this station there was nowhere to buy tickets, and no haughty taughty upper class cabin for me to board, so it was off to the ordinary class, ya know, with the ordinary people.

Public boat leaves the shore in Katha

Dad helps his daughter off the boat, Katha

My neighbors lighting up their early morning stogies

It seemed like the whole cabin turned around to look when I got on board. I threw my big pack onto the overhead racks and slid into the only open seat I saw, in a compartment with three other grizzly looking dudes. Everyone was thoroughly bundled up, as the train gets freezing cold at night. When the sun came up the men around me were buying various snacks from the vendors and offering some to me to try. Nobody spoke any English and I spoke about 3 phrases in Burmese, but we all got along well. Soon they busted out the booze and cigars, but I politely declined, as it was about 8 am. I did however get some cool shots of them blowing smoke out the windows, which they seemed to find amusing as well. It was certainly a more interesting experience than being in upper class. A few hours later I had arrived my station, and set off to find a bus to my intended destination, Indawgyi Lake. I was directed to a truck that was fully loaded with cargo. On top of the cargo were a bunch people sitting, and I was instructed to join them. I climbed up and found a seemingly comfortable spot in between some cardboard boxes and rice sacks and we were on our way shortly. Of course the road was awful and all the jostling around made it extremely difficult to find a good spot as there was always some sort of cardboard box corner jabbing at you somewhere. Everyone else looked very comfortable and content, clearly not worried about getting springboarded from the back of the truck like I was. It was a bumpy, hot, and dusty 3 hour ride with lots of strange looks from the locals. Eventually the truck stopped, a man shouted "Indawgyi, Indawgyi" "You go!" I had arrived. 

view from the back of the truck. Note the condition of the roads.

Taking a kayak on the lake for sunset

Girl returns from fishing in the morning

At Indawgyi there is one guesthouse. They get maybe 20 tourists per month. The owner hardly speaks English, there is one shared toilet, and the place only gets 2 hours of electricity a day. But its definitely a good place to unwind and observe everyday Burmese lake life. There is even ‘travel agency’ where guys rent out bikes and a couple of kyaks. They insist that you take one of them with as a guide “for your safety” but if you’re insistent enough they’ll make a handwritten waiver that must be signed by you and the police department, to say you won't blame them in case you get into a high speed kayak-fishing boat collision and die. It all seemed a bit silly, but I happy to comply with the Burmese bureaucracy.  Anywho, I spent three nights there and enjoyed it a lot. The first day I met a couple, a Burmese girl and an American guy (the guy had been living in Yangon working with NGO’s for the last few years), so they were extremely helpful in answering all the questions I had about the country. I found out why no one knew what I was talking about when I told them I was going to “My-It-Ky-EEna” because its actually pronounced Ma-Chee-Na (like you’ve got a mouthful of food). And they taught me all sorts of other useful words AND the proper pronunciations. I had a bunch of phrases written down from wiki, but trying to say them without knowing the correct pronunciations had proven to be utterly useless. So I copied all this new info down in my iphone, which I then proceeded destroy the following day when I dumped myself out of my kayak and into the lake in front of a whole bunch of people :/  Not my proudest moment. But hey, it wasn't the camera!

But besides that debacle, kayaking in the lake was super cool. There’s a big pagoda in the middle of it that can only be reached by boat. And the lake is very calm and you can paddle around and watch all the fishermen do their thing. And the sunset out on the lake is, without saying, beautiful as well. Back on land everywhere around the guesthouse it is brimming with pastoral Burmese life. In the early mornings the fishing boats are all going out while the kids walk down to the little wooden planks with buckets to collect water for boiling and cooking. In the afternoons the people are back to the lake to bathe and wash clothes while another round of fishing boats goes out to collect the fish from the lines before it gets dark. There’s kids playing in the dirt streets while all sorts of cattle trundle by and buses come occasionally and kick up dust everywhere. Women walk by with their yellow painted faces carrying all sorts of things on their heads. Men in longyis ride bicycles that look to be decades old. It seemed like such a timeless and happy little place. It was one of the many highlights of my trip in Myanmar.

After a few days I caught another truck to get back to the train station and hopped on the next train into “Macheena”.

pagoda in the middle of the lake

A monk turns the tables and takes a photo of me

fisherman coming with the fish traps in the early morning fog

Apparently its the kids job to go out and fetch the water

shower time

pajamas suits are all the rage

On more glimpse at public transport in this part of the country

BAGAN

The Ancient Capital

A half day away from Mandalay lies the ancient city of Bagan, home to thousands of temples, pagodas, and stupas, all within a radius of a few dozen square miles. It’s also Myanmar’s biggest tourist draw, and for a damn good reason: the place is amazing!

Early dawn light at the Thatbyinnyu temple

Bagan was the former capital of the Pagan empire from 1047 AD to the late 1200’s. It was also the economic, political, and cultural center of the empire that spanned most of present day Myanmar. Religion was an extremely important part of daily life and in Bagan many schools of Buddhism were studied. If there was one thing the rich and powerful seemed to enjoy doing back then it was building temples, lots of them! Over 10,000 religious monuments were constructed in that frenetic time period. I can just see the teatime conversation between two wealthy Burmans now:

       Hey Frank, whattya say you and I build our good pal Buddha another temple?

                    I dunno man, there’s like already 8,000 of them already out there…

      But surely one more can’t hurt! We need Buddha to forget about all the money we’ve been extorting.

                    Hmmm, you’re probably right. I suppose you can’t really have too many temples can ya?

      Of course not. Hell, I’ll go trick some peasants into working for us first thing tomorrow!

                    Niiice. Those peasants sure are dumb

       Indeed. Well, this deserves a toast. To Booooodha!

                   You’re my boy Buddha! (glasses clink)

                                  ..... And another temple is born.

Those few centuries were certainly a good time to be living in Bagan. The city was rich in trade and education, which attracted monks and students from all around, places as far as India and present day Vietnam. Unfortunately it all came to an end when those damn Mongolians came to town and sacked the place in 1287, forever extinguishing its role as influential city. 

Today over 2,000 of the religious monuments remain standing and draw in about 400,000 tourists per year (and rising). That sounds like a lot, but it’s really not much when you compare it to Angkor Wat in Cambodia, the most famous example of temple building fervor, which draws in over 2 million people per year. While Angkor Wat is really cool, and certainly wins the grandeur contest, I’m going to give Bagan the nod as my favorite due to its more compact nature, as well as the ease in which you can find yourself alone amongst the smaller temples. 

Random temple along the Irrawaddy

I arrived around noon and hopped on the back of a motorbike to find a place to stay. After three or four guesthouses I found one with an open bed in a 5 person dorm and quickly snatched it up. Bagan, being such a large tourist draw, can be difficult to find accommodation sometimes, especially if you’re getting in later in the evening. I rarely do dorms these days, but in this case I’ll take what I can get. As it turned out the other people in my dorm were French, which, when you get a few of them together, you can almost count on being dutifully ignored. I asked the guy at the reception for a good place to go for sunset and headed off to the recommended Shwesandaw Temple on a rented bike.

On both sides of the road I passed numerous temples of all sizes, glowing nicely in the late afternoon light. As I got close to the Shwesandaw temple it appeared that I certainly would not be alone. Tour buses, cars, horse drawn carriages, and motorbikes all jammed the small road leading to the temple. A traffic jam in Bagan… definitely not what I had pictured in my head. Walking up to the temple you could see that it was like a life form of its own, a sea of waving bodies and limbs, all jockeying for space on the sunlit side. I was a bit late for the party. I had brought my tripod, but there was no room to put it down, so I wedged myself in behind some middle aged English people that said the word ‘lovely’ twice per sentence. Ugh. I hate tourists.

TOURIST!

Yes yes, I know I’m a tourist too, but not the kind I’m a referring to. There’s so many people who come for just a day or two and get shuttled around by tour bus or carriage to the all the major temples, take some crappy photos, check the place off their little lists, and move on. It’s an awful way to travel in my opinion, but that’s the usual modus operandi I guess. Anyway I found it hard to enjoy myself smashed in with the horde, even though the sun setting over the pagodas was very nice. Then people clapped and cheered when it was over. Gross. Who claps for a sunset?? Why would you even think to clap for a sunset in the first place? I’m pretty sure the sun doesn’t need any validation on how it looks or doesn’t look going over the horizon. I guess a weak sunset should be met with a chorus of boo’s as well! In a perfect world, when that first guy started clapping, everyone else would have promptly turned around and gave him the ‘dude, wtf?’ look, and he would have shrunk meagerly back into place. But no. They all joined in. Maybe if I wasn’t a cynical asshole I would have too. Instead I got out of there as quick as I could and vowed not to go back. 

Sunset view at Shwesandaw temple

So how do you avoid all the tourists in Bagan? It’s easy! Rent a bike or e-bike and wake up early! The sunrises are spectacular. The sun cuts through the morning mists while hot air balloons float across the temple filled skyline. And there’s almost no people around either! After sunrise you can take your bike through the dirt tracks around some of the smaller temples while the soft morning light shines through and you will have the place completely to yourself. By far my favorite part of Bagan was the first few hours of the morning! Being the photography nut that I am I woke up at 5:30 every day to find a new place for the sunrise, which I admit is a bit excessive for most people, but I think everyone should wake up early for at least one sunrise in Bagan. The only problem really is the bicycles themselves. They’re all one speed street bikes, which don’t agree  with the sandy, rocky back-roads. Not to mentions the seats! One day on those bike seats is enough to make anyone resort to basically anything else. And then there’s the dust! Unless you’re traveling in some sort of bubble suit, after a long day in Bagan you will be coated in a healthy layer of grime, guaranteed. You just have to embrace the dirt. It’s those dusty earthen roads that give it that old, timeless feel to begin with.

balloons crossing the sky around sunrise

Anyway I really did enjoy my time in Bagan. It’s probably the most beautiful man made place I’ve ever seen, so hopefully my photos reflect that!

people pour water on the heads of the buddhas for each day of the week

Walking home... like a boss

ox carts still readily in use

pile on

I bought one her cigars, it was pretty harsh

Away from the temples on the Irrawaddy River

I think the women do all the work in this country

early morning mists

I was hoping he was carrying a double banjo... somehow I think its not

monks walk up a dirt track in a small village

Welcome to Myanmar!

1st stop: Mandalay

The moat surrounding the National Palace

To begin I’m going to address what to call this country. It has been the subject of domestic as well as international controversy for the last few decades. Most countries recognize its name as Myanmar, short for “The Republic of the Union of Myanmar” which the government adopted in 1989. Many English speaking countries (including the US) refused to adopt the name change as a protest against the undemocratic policies of the government. Despite that, most American media outlets currently opt to use the name Myanmar. In Myanmar’s defence, the name Burma is non-inclusive, which only refers to the largest ethnic group in the country (the Burmans), despite there being many ethnic minorities.  Playing devil’s advocate you can say that most minority groups have grown accustomed to the name Burma, and the name change is representative of the domination of the ruling Burman class. No one seems to ever agree on this issue. But when I was in the country everyone called it Myanmar, so that’s what feels right to refer to it as. Although I still have no idea what the plural of Myanmar is, so I ‘m gonna say Burmese for the plural. Confusing? Very. Anyways…

The street in front of my hotel

I wasn’t exactly sure what to expect when I decided to go to Myanmar. It’s a country that most people don’t know much about, myself included. I think your average person might know something about its military junta, which is currently the longest running military regime in existence. It has had bad track record of human rights violations and its isolationist polices have set the country back decades in terms of development, although it has tried to open itself up more in the past few years. It was also the setting of the last Rambo movie where rebel armies rape and kill everything that moves and then make the survivors run across landmine laden rice paddies for the day’s entertainment. So public perception of the country is probably not the best. While the Rambo movie is obviously, well… a movie, it is true that some rebel armies are still active up in the northern foothills and the Burmese government certainly has not been a pinnacle of virtue. Seem like a good place to visit right?!

When you’re traveling you hear lots of stories about different places, some of which might contradict your preconceived notions of said place (which always seem to be wrong).  The people who I talked to that had been to Myanmar always had great things to say about the country, so after hearing enough positive things I decided I had to check it out for myself. After Indonesia and Singapore I headed to Bangkok to get my visa for Myanmar, which is very simple these days.

Kids walk through the pigeons that feed in front of the Mahamuni pagoda

I flew into Mandalay, the second largest city and former ancient capital. I arrived sometime in the afternoon and made my way to my hotel, which I had actually pre-booked. Normally I almost never book anything in advance unless I’m getting in at 3am or something, and I have yet to encounter any serious difficulty finding a room. BUT I had read on the Lonely Planet Forums that last year there was a major shortage of rooms (this is when they made getting a visa much easier and the demand for rooms quickly surpassed the supply) and that people were having to book ahead everywhere they went to avoid sleeping in the hotel lobby or in a monastery. I wasn’t exactly sure what the hotel climate would be like, so I made sure I had my first two nights booked.

When first arriving its hard to describe what a feast for the eyes the place is! Driving in from the airport I could see pagoda tops off in the hazy distance and men riding behind big white oxen plowing the fields. Once we got near the city center cars shared the road with rumbling buses, motorbikes, trishaws, and bicycles. All the men walking down the street wore skirt-like plaid longyis rather than pants while the women had their faces painted with a strange yellow paint. In many major cities you arrive and everything looks pretty western, and well kind of boring. Not the case with Myanmar! It’s certainly not a beautiful city by any means, in fact its downright ugly and dirty, but it’s got flair.

The majority of Burmese women wear the yellow thanaka bark patterns on their cheeks

I was dropped off somewhere near the city center and paid a trishaw (3 wheeled bike) driver $1 to take me to my hotel. Upon checking in, the small girls at the hotel wouldn’t let me touch my bags and hauled them up the three floors to my room. After a brief nap it was time to see what was around. The hotel was right down the street from a pagoda, so I set my sights there. Within seconds of walking through the gates some man was yelling “soos!” “soos!” and frantically pointing at me.  I put my hands up in the air, very confused, and he came over and pointed at my shoes… aha… I was supposed to take off my shoes. Rookie mistake.

I headed in barefoot and immediately enjoyed the atmosphere around the pagoda itself. There were some old people sitting around, a few dogs playing, the occasional monk walking by, some young kids playing soccer while the older ones played leg/head volleyball (I have no clue what to call this sport). The soccer field was highlighted with brilliant beams of light, dispersed by the tree branches and illuminated by all the dust being kicked up, which as a photographer I found particularly enticing. Yes, I realize this kind of stuff is not exactly what most people get excited by.

Kids playing soccer behind the Ein Daw Yar pagoda

I ended up playing badminton with some kids for a bit, and after a man came up to talk and wasn’t try to sell me anything! He just wanted to chat and have tea! His English was actually really difficult for me to understand, so I declined, but still I was really enjoying the feel of the place just a few hours in.

Ein Daw Yar pagoda at sunset

Monks doing other stuff than praying and looking pious

The next morning I woke up ridiculously early (4:30) because I wanted to take some sunset photos on Mandalay Hill, but when I walked down the street I was shocked at how busy it was. The market had already began and the women had all set up their baskets on the roadside, lighting their goods with candles or bright LED bulbs. I ditched the Mandalay Hill plans and just wandered around the market for a few hours. Everything about it seemed so fascinating to me. The clothing, the yellow thanaka bark on the womens faces, the strange vegetables, the monks receiving alms, the old bicycles and wooden pushcarts, and the energy at this time of morning. The motorbikes and LED lights were the only things betraying the fact that this was almost 2014. 

Man hauls bags of garlic at the early early morning market

LED lights are used to illuminate the fresh produce

But some still prefer the candle light

girls at the onion warehouse

streets get more crowded as dawn approaches

I liked this outfit

Monks ply the roads collecting alms

During the day I found a motorbike driver to take me to some of the sights around town. ie: Pagodas! This is at the point where seeing new pagodas was still fresh and exciting to me (it wears out fast) so I really enjoyed walking around and seeing all the monks (OMG MONKS! MUST TAKE PHOTOS!) and people praying. At sunset we went to Ubein Bridge, a famous teakwood bridge, that has a very interesting confluence of tourists, locals, and monks walking across it. Later I found some people to hit the Myanmar drinking establishments with, and the next day it was off to the ancient temples of Bagan!

They have female monks too

Buddhists often buy a bird to set it free, which is said to earn merit

A farmer works with the Ubein Bridge in the background

I love the silhouttes of the different people crossing the bridge

Photos Photos Photos: Wrapping up Indonesia

Ok I'm just going to post a bunch of photos that I like but never really got a chance to post. They're from the boardwalk in Labuan Bajo, the beaches around Bira, and the markets in Rantepao. Enjoy!

Guys playing hand and leg volleyball ( I have no idea what this game is called)  in Labuan Bajo

girl eats a mango on the boardwalk of labuan bajo

traditional boat building near Bira, Sulawesi

the beach was a bit dirty after Indonesian party goers came in for the weekend from Makassar

girl in the island village near Bira

woman collecting clams/seaweed/rocks/who knows at sunrise at the beachside village in Bira

kids using a boat as a walkway

sunset, Bira

walking on the clouds

guy preparing his fishing boat

using a log to haul a boat onshore

I have no idea! This is definitely the weirdest photo I took in Indonesia

Man looking to sell his cock at the market in Rantepao, Sulawesi

sun shield

creepy

Man fondles his cock 

Hey baby...

Is this idyllic or what?

The view of the coast from the plane taking off from Makassar, Sulawesi. So long Indonesia!!

Next up, Myanmar!

Tanah Toraja and the Path to Heaven

Life in Preparation of Death

After diving at Komodo I headed a bit north to a big starfish shaped island named Sulawesi. I flew into the capital, Makassar, which of course is sprawling, ugly, and dirty, just like all big Indonesian cities. I bused out the next morning to hit the nice beaches of Bira and then head up North to Tana Toraja, an area known for its elaborate funeral processions and ceremonies.

In Torajan, the funerals are often massive, expensive, pre-planned, and scheduled, similar to that of a western wedding. You might be wondering how exactly funerals can be organized in advance? When a member of the Torajan community passes away the body is crudely mummified and stored under the house so the family has time to save up for the funeral. This can take months or even years depending on the size! So its fairly common to have dead grandma chilling in the basement for a while. The belief is that the person isn't really dead until their spirit can ascend to heaven at the funeral, so family members might come down and leave some food or have a chat with their somewhat taciturn relative. 

When the funds are adequate its time to get the show on the road! These funerals are big public events, so theres a lot of preparation involved. The family will set up wooden huts for seating, which of course in traditional torajan style also have the big curved roofs, called Tongkonan. All around Rantepao you can see these unique structures, which for the locals are meant to serve a link to their ancestors, as well as show status. It's a bit odd to see people living in little shacks next to these beautiful Tongkonan, but in Torajan culture the main focus isn't this life, but the next. 

The funeral ceremonies last for a few days, with the size depending on the status of the person who died. The success of the funeral isn't measured by how many people that attend, but rather how many animals are offered up to the gods, primarily the number of water buffalo. These buffalo are very important to Torajans as it is believed a person's spirt will ride the spirit of a dead buffalo into heaven. Sounds kind of fun, doesn't it?

The funeral we attended was a three day affair. Me and two lovely German girls hired a guide to take us to the ceremony on day two. It's not mandatory to have a guide, but its nice because they introduce you to the family, you give them some small gifts, and they show you a place to sit and drink. Keep in mind the other guests are bringing things like chickens and pigs to slaughter, while we foreigners get off easy with a carton of cigarettes. I suppose its a bit odd being a stranger at a funeral, but the people were very welcoming, and you feel like you're part of the ceremony, not just an outsider looking in. 

The scene in the main yard. Men carry off a pig to be slaughtered

The second day involved a few processions of the deceased's family through the main walkway; the female members are bathed in white make-up, wear special red dresses, and carry around some sort of wooden sword, making them look as if they came straight from the scene of a bad sci-fi movie. But outfits aside, the day was mostly just a lot of pig slaughter. When you walk in you can see pigs lying everywhere lashed to bamboo poles. The poles are used to carry the pigs off when the time comes. They don't make the killings a public spectacle, but just walking around you see plenty of it. They knife the pig, singe off the hair with a huge blowtorch, cut out the internal organs, and chop it all up. Yep, a whole lotta knifing, singeing, and chopping is what I mostly remember from the day. Afterwards the meat will be cooked up and served to the guests. No catering here! The rest of the meat will be distributed to the people of the village and other family members. 

A man sheathes his sword after killing a pig

blowtorching the dead pigs

A girl from the deceased's family looks on

The next morning we came back again to witness the final day of the funeral, the buffalo sacrifices. Giving a water buffalo to the deceased is basically the ultimate gift. A good buffalo is very expensive and can take many years of saving in order to purchase one. The more that are slaughtered, the greater the chance the deceased has of getting to the afterlife. Because ya know if your soul falls off that first buffalo spirit heading to heaven, its nice to have a dozen or so more to catch you! 

When we arrived there were 10 buffalos lined up in the main yard. That amount of buffalos signifies a large funeral, but not huge by any means. There were two men who facilitated the sacrifice, one to hold it still, and another to slash open the throat. Some buffalos would stand in shock as the blood poured out of their neck while others would frantically jump around before collapsing, much to the amusement of many of the guests. Our guide said that while growing up he never felt any remorse for the animals because its all just a normal part of their lives. All the cheers from the crowd definitely cemented that view. We watched about 5 or 6 of the buffalo sacrifices and then decided that we had seen enough carnage for one morning, happy we had eaten beforehand. After all the killing eventually the body of the deceased will be carried to to their tomb, preferably inside a cave, where the body will be laid to rest and the funeral will end. 

I must say, those buffalo slaughters are probably the most gruesome thing I've seen while traveling. Although I guess its important to remember that these buffalos live a free ranging lifestyle and are taken good care of. They're killed quickly, (one wishes it was quicker) and the meat is not laid to waste. So even though its quite shocking to see, I don't think its inhumane or anything like that. I'm going to a couple photos from the ceremony, which are a little graphic, so scroll down at your own risk. The men certainly seem to find a bigger kick out this kind of thing than the women!

First buffalo goes down

The  mood is quite jovial as another one bites the dust

Mother of Dragons

Komodo National Park: Home to the Dragons (and other stuff)

The viewpoint looking over the islands at Rinca National Park, off the island of Flores

When most people think of Komodo national park, two words automatically spring to mind: Komodo Dragons! Yes, its true, the largest reptile in the world, the Komodo dragon, can be seen on the Komodo islands as well its next door neighbor, Rinca, and few other places. However the two words that come to mind should be Scuba Diving!!

A turtle floats by 

The diving around Komodo is truly fantastic! There are tons of very good dive sites and a few spectacular ones. Originally I was hoping to do a live-aboard boat, but my timing wasn't too good as the dry season was just ending and the far south dive sites that are normally accessible by the live-aboard were no longer and option. I decided on doing day trips with Blue Marlin, and we had a fun group of divers as well as great instructors, which made the experience all the more enjoyable. During the week we saw plenty of sharks, massive wrasses and bumphead parrotfish, turtles of course, rays, sea snakes, eels, huge lobsters, I dunno, all sorts of shit. And then there's the color! The corals of the reef display a massive range of dizzyingly bright hues, which really is something to behold. If there's one thing I'll remember about Komodo, it's the colors. Well, and Manta Point...

Manta Point is basically a stretch of current in between reefs that acts a manta super highway as well as a good place to feed. It's a must do when diving at Komodo. You drop in the water and let the current take you along the bottom at around 13 or 14 meters and basically wait until you see some mantas gliding along. Once one is spotted you exhale to lose buoyancy and drop to the sea floor, hanging on to whatever you can get ahold of, so the current won't sweep you away. If you're lucky the mantas won't notice and will swim up close to your group. We got extremely lucky and saw something like 20 of them! It was a field day! As I'd never seen a manta before I got a real kick out finally being able to do the manta hand signal, which is flapping your arms at your sides when I spotted one. We even had one large black one stop and hover right in front of for a few minutes, like it was observing us just as we were observing it, before gracefully sailing away. Seeing the mantas move by you feel kind of like the slow unathletic kid (ie Brett Kotecki) at basketball tryouts. If only us divers could just glide through the currents like they do! 

Mantas swimming overhead at Manta Point (photo courtesy of Ewan Chamings)

Komodo is renowned for some of its intense drift diving, where divers must battle heavy currents. These dives can be quite dangerous if you get sucked up or down quickly before realizing what is happening. We experienced a few strong currents here and there, but nothing wild like I expected. Theres a couple of dive sites called Castle Rock, Crystal Rock, and the Cauldron that are known for having some crazy drifts, but I went right after the full moon, which apparently is when the currents were at their lowest. No need for negative entries (diving off the boat and descending right away rather than meeting at the surface), which actually bummed me out a little bit because some of the stories I've heard made those dives sound pretty damn exciting. Oh Well. But overall I think Komodo is the best dive destination I've been to so far, really only being trumped by a few of the remarkable dive sites at Sipadan in Malaysia. I give it a big thumbs up!

Unfortunately because most of my time was spent underwater, and I don't have an UW casing, I don't have any dazzling sea life photos to share. I got the manta pic from one of the other divers in our group, and the other two are from the Gilis, when I rented a camera for one dive. Although most of those photos turned out like crap! I must say, photography is very difficult underwater. You've got to worry about keeping still, the white balance, fiddling with buttons on the awkward camera casing, as well as the other dive-related stuff, like running out of air and the like. But I know if I actually got into UW photography, eventually I'd have to get the big ole DSLR casing and externally mounted flash, as the extra lighting really helps bring out the colors that get filtered out of the UV spectrum underwater. Which is also why most amateur underwater photos you see often look dull and muted, and well kind of suck. And I hate taking sucky photos! But the casing is expensive and cumbersome, not exactly ideal for long term travel. Maybe some day...

But hey, you're probably wondering when I was going to get to those big stinking dragons! It is Komodo after all!

dragons chilling under some guy's house in Rinca

We went to Rinca island to check out these massive beasts. To be fair this was only like an hour of out my week in and around the Komodos. You get the island and a guide shows you to where the dragons hang out, which is mostly in the shade under trees or people's huts, because its hot as hell during the day. Then everyone says "oooh" and "aaahh" and takes their photos of these big scaly creatures, who aren't really doing much of anything. Then you go for a hike, but like I said, it's hot as hell, so before you know it you've had enough and you're back on the boat. And that's it! You've seen the dragons! Although I didn't really learn much about them from our guide, I did do a little research afterwards, and they really are interesting animals. Which leads to my next segment:

FUN KOMODO FACTS WITH ADAM

I didn't know shit about Komodo dragons before I came here, and I'm guessing neither do you, until now!

There are less than 5,000 dragons left in Indonesia, with the majority residing in the Komodo and Rinca island sanctuaries as well as a few other places. These carnivores have been around for millions of years and look the part! You notice that they are constantly flicking their tongues in and out, which they use to detect taste and smells, sometimes dead and rotting flesh up to a few miles away. Mating season begins in May, with the males fighting each other to win the females. Courtship involves several days of wrestling, with the female attempting to fight off the male with her teeth and claws. For intercourse the female must be fully subdued (rape?!), so that the male can insert one of his two penises into the female. Yes, you read that right, the male has what is known as a hemipene, which is sort of a double ended penis. Double the pleasure, double the fun!  According to wiki the hemipene often has hooks or spines which help anchor it into the vagina. Sounds great, eh ladies?

After an incubation period of 7-8 months the newborns chip their way out of their egg with their eggtooth and eventually are forced to live up in the trees for the first few years of their lives, as they are quite defenceless and can fall prey to canniballistic older dragons. Once they get big enough they come down and enjoy their spot on land with their pals, where they can join in on the hunting trips. Supposedly the big lizards can eat 80% of their weight at a meal and can live off as little of 12 meals a year. Their appetite is voracious, similar to Ed's at 3 in the morning when some large pizzas are in the freezer. During one of these feasts they might even ram the  animal carcass against a tree to force it down their throats faster. Later they lay in the sun to speed digestion of their meal, so it won't rot inside their stomach. 

The dragons are slightly venomous, but this is believed by scientists to be overstated and misunderstood by the public. 

Eventually, after living for up to 50 years, these killing, raping, cannibals die. The End

The Island of Flores

The view of Ende from the summit of Gunung Iya

I flew into Ende and worked my way west overland to Labuan Bajo and Komodo National Park

So after seeing everything that I wanted to see in Bali and Lombok it was time to head to the island of Flores, three islands east of Bali. I was tempted to take a four day boat trip from Lombok, but after listening to some stories about the conditions on the boat I decided to take a pass. I had heard that there's nowhere to sit, the food is lousy, there were rats, you sleep on the floor, and if its raining there isn't really enough room in the cabin for everyone to sleep and stay dry. No thanks! A flight to Ende it is!

The town of Ende is a port city that's almost entirely Muslim, unlike most of Flores. It's pretty unattractive and dirty, which is why most tourists don't really stay here for any longer than they have to. You do get lots of attention walking around the city though! I had read about a nice volcano hike on Gunung Bagging, a database of Indonesian volcanoes, so I at least wanted to do that hike and maybe rent a motorbike to check out the countryside. However there are no tourist facilities and almost no English speakers, so finding a bike, or guide, or even a map was fairly difficult. When I did inquire about renting a bike around town I did get a few offers, but at the ridiculous price of 200,000 baht per day, which is 4 times the price I normally pay. I think not!

boys hanging out down by the pier, Ende

having some fun with the kids on the street

to the waves!

After walking around for a while the following day a man on his motorbike saw me and came over to chat. An English speaker! He said he was a guide and could take me wherever I wanted to go. As I had been aimlessly wandering the town for a few hours this offer sounded pretty good. He suggested the Wolotopo traditional village, we worked out the price, I hopped on the back of the bike, and off we went. Well the village wasn’t exactly ‘traditional’ in the sense that the traditional villages normally have longhouses with thatched straw roofs (okay, there was one), but it was still interesting enough to walk around for an hour. Lots of people wanted me to take their photo, which always enjoy doing. By far the most awkward part of the trip was when I was talking to one of the rare people who spoke any English and he asked if he could come to my hotel. Confused, I told him there was nothing at my hotel, but he said he’d really like to see it. Since I didn't seem to understand what he could possibly want to see at my hotel, he then utilized a more direct approach and tried grab my balls. Alright, time to get the hell outta there! I certainly wasn’t expecting any encounters like that in small, conservative, Indonesian village, but there ya have it! I hurried to find my guide and we zipped back into town. He then arranged a guide for me early the next morning so I could hike up to the top of Gunung Iya, the volcano that overlooks Ende. 

Many women still do traditional weaving in Wolotopo village

This is what happens to your teeth from a lifetime of betel nut chewing

Now when I first got to Indonesia I was pretty reluctant to take a guide when hiking volcanos because I really don’t see the point if I can do it myself. On Bali’s Gunung Agung it was supposedly not allowed to do the hike without a guide, but I scouted out the trailhead during the day, showed up at 11:30 at night to start the hike, and made it up through the darkness in 6.5 hours with few problems. A little bit dumb? Maybe. Anyway for Iya, the hike is only an hour to the top, so it should be easy to do alone right? Well, I had read a trip report on Gunung Bagging from the founder of the site (experienced volcano hiker obviously) and him and his partner almost died on the descent because they did it during the middle of day with no backup water and they couldn’t find the extremely vague path down. Every way they tried dead-ended into steep ravines. So they were both trapped on the volcano in the scorching heat, suffering from heatstroke and exhaustion, with no water. Luckily one them had his cell phone and was able to call his wife in Thailand, who was able to contact his travel insurance company, who then contacted the police in Ende and search party was formed to get them down. Pretty crazy! Well, this story had me rethinking my do-it-on-my-own policy. Anyway this particular volcano erupted about 30 years ago and left behind a big smoking hole with a lake that is supposed to be cool to see. I woke up at 3:30 the next morning, got picked up the guy I met yesterday, he took to a small house near the foot of volcano where my hiking guide emerged, and we were on our way! 

approaching the summit

The pits of doom

As expected the hike took about an hour, we made it the top for the sunrise, and it was well worth the early start! So after we got down I took a nap and then caught the next bus to Moni to check out the famed Gunung Kelimutu, a volcanic crater with three differently colored lakes that change colors depending on the day, the season, and the levels of volcanic gas activity. It’s the main tourist attraction on mainland Flores. I met some guys at my guesthouse who were also looking to see it the next morning so we arranged a bemo at 5am to take us there. Unfortunately its not really a hike to get the top, its more like a 15 minute stroll on a paved path (a goat track if you will) to get to the lakes. We got to the lookout point and were treated with a nice sunrise over the two adjacent lakes, one that is a weird seafoam green color and one that is dark turquoise color, as you will see. 

The multicolored lakes of Kelimutu

 We spent more time taking photos and following the path that circles the crater rim before calling it a day. I hopped on the bus back to Ende and then hopped on another bus to take me to the small town of Boawae, where Gunung Ebolobo volcano awaits!

cool circular rainbow that formed in the blowing mist

The bus driver dropped me off at the gas station in town and I was left to my own devices to figure out where I was going next. I was getting lots of strange looks as apparently no tourists visit this town, like ever. I wanted to get to the village at the foot of the volcano, but I idiotically had forgotten the name! I thought I knew enough Indonesian to say “I want to go to the town near the volcano” or something at least close to that, but every time I tried I was getting nowhere. Eventually someone brought me into the house and called up someone who spoke some English (a very loose definition of 'some') and he eventually figured out where it was I wanted to go. Molowaki!!

He said there was no hotel there, but I had read you could sleep at the guide’s house, so I convinced them to take me on a motorbike. Bad idea!! I’m sure most of you haven’t ridden uphill on the back of motorbike with a full backpack, but its not easy! You’re trying to lean as far forward as you can, but the pack is always pulling you backwards, wanting to pull you off the back of the bike, so you’re constantly working your abs trying to counter the weight of the pack. So anyway the guy didn’t have the most powerful bike and the very first steep uphill part the bike stalled when he was switching from 2nd gear to 1st, and then jerked really hard With the steep gradient and the weight of my pack I just went flying off the back! The bike’s front tire flew up in the air, he jumped off as well, and the bike crashed hard onto the pavement. Yikes. Everyone was fine (I landed squarely on my backpack) but the bike was not so lucky. My driver was not happy, not too happy at all. After his moaning I asked him how much it was to fix and he said 300. My American thinking brain kicked in; “Oh shit, 300 dollars!” Wait, wait, no, it was just 300,000 rupiah or about 30 dollars. So I paid for his repairs because that’s certainly a lot of money for him and after that we were on okay terms again. He ended up flagging down another motorbike driver for me, one with a better bike, who agreed to take me to the Molokawi. This was certainly not a good idea, but I can be quite stubborn sometimes.

This bike ride was by far the most gut-wrenching and sphincter tightening experience in Indonesia. The road of course was super steep and filled with potholes and broken pavement. Going over every single bump I was clenching my legs and my abs as hard as could, praying I wouldn't be going airborne again. It was a pretty brutal test of endurance. During the really rough spots I have to get off the death bike and walk, then hop back on again. After about half an hour I honestly thought my abs were going to give out. Now I know you're all thinking, "there's no way Adam's rock hard abs of steel could possibly give out" but it did indeed happen. About a kilometer from the village the road managed to get even worse, and I was so thoroughly exhausted from clinging on for dear life that I told the driver I had to walk. He drove along with my pack and eventually we made it to Molowaki in the darkness. It was dead quiet, but fortunately the driver showed me to the house where the guide lived. I was invited in, met his family, conversed in broken Indonesian, was fed some rice and vegetables, and shown to the spare bedroom. Wake up time: 3:30 am!

The hike itself was straightforward, nothing near as exciting as the motorbike ride. It was actually the guy’s sons who took me to the top, which took about 2.5 hours, and we made it to the summit so see the sunrise over the beautiful island of Flores. This was the nicest volcano sunrise I’ve seen and I think my favorite volcano hike to date. It was just a spectacular view from the top that really gives you that high on life feeling. After hiking around the summit for a bit we headed down, I was fed breakfast (more rice and veggies!) taken back into town (so much easier going down!) and caught the next bus to Bajawa. 

sunrise on Gunung Ebolobo

uninspired photo of the Bena village

Ok well this has drawn on too long, so I’ll try finish up. At Bajawa there are lots traditional villages, so you get there, pay the entrance fee, and the people living there all kind of stare at you or try to sell you something. It’s not really my thing. And once you’ve been to one, you’ve kind of been to ‘em all. I had much more fun riding to random small villages where the people are much more friendly and curious about the strange westerner that has just rolled into town. So I spent two days there and then it was back on the bus. I was going to go to Ruteng, which is about 5 hours away, but the weather was shitty and Ruteng’s main tourist attraction is also traditional villages! Ugh. So I decided to keep going to Labuan Bajo, the launching point to Komodo. After five more hours of blasting Indopop music, winding turns, and a dude puking constantly, I had arrived! Exhausted, I checked into the guesthouse I was dropped off at, the grossest one I’ve encountered in Indonesia, and despite the noxious fumes from the bathroom (err toilet pit) I promptly passed out on top of my not-so-white sheets. Next up Scuba diving Komodo!

The viewpoint at Rinca island

INDONESIA: The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly

Hello everyone! Welcome to my first ever blog post! I’m currently in Singapore, (ok well now Bangkok) unwinding a bit after two months in Indonesia. With some good wifi and plenty of free time I’ve finally managed to get this site up and running. I don’t really have any idea what I’m doing as far as website design and blogging goes, but I’ll give it my best shot. If all else fails, there will still be lots of pretty pictures to look at! Anyway, I have a few interesting stories from Indonesia, but for now I thought I would post an overview highlighting all the things I enjoyed and all the things I didn’t in this quirky country.

THE GOOD

Visa on Arrival: No need to get a visa ahead of time, just book a flight, pay $25 for the visa and you’ll have 30 days in Indonesia with the option to extend to 60.

Scuba diving: Indonesia is certainly a Scuba diver’s paradise. Considering the sheer quantity of amazing dive locations, it’s definitely one of the best countries in the world for the sport, if not the best. I only dived at a few places (this country is too big!) but I can say for sure that the diving in Komodo is friggen fantastic. 20 manta rays in one dive? Holy Shit! Sadly all my photos were taken above the surface. I think the next spot on my list is Raja Ampat, off in Papua. 

Near the summit of Gunung Iya, Flores

Volcano Hiking: Indonesia’s topography is quite tumultuous. Lush coastal lowlands give rise to hilly, undulating terrain that is dotted with skyline stealing volcanos. I’m a big fan of finding the nearest one and getting to the top. Routes are often vague, guides are strongly advised, and early starts are usually involved, but getting to the top of a big volcano for that 360 degree panorama view over the whole island at sunrise is extremely rewarding. The website Gunung Bagging was huge help in finding routes and access to the lesser hiked volcanos.

Blend of cultures: I find Indonesian culture to be particularly interesting. The country is almost 90% Muslim, but it is much less rigid in practice than in the Middle East.  There are also many large pockets of Christians, Bali is predominantly Hindu, and many remote places still practice their traditional beliefs and rituals. Some of which are quite shocking!

The Language: In my opinion Indonesian is quite easy to learn. It uses the roman alphabet, grammar is simple, there’s no tone system, and the pronunciation is very uniform. I found it amusing that you can say a noun twice to make it plural. So mobil = car, mobil-mobil = cars. Too easy!  I was pleased with how much I was able to speak in two months of travel.

Mangos: Man I love them. I can’t count how many mango smoothies I’ve had in Indonesia. At the market I can usually buy three large mangos for about a dollar. In Sulawesi they have stands that line streets, selling nothing but mangos! Mmm

Massages: Cheap and readily available in most parts of Indonesia. It’s always a nice way to end a hectic day. In Bali the standard price seemed to be about 60,000 rp ($6) for a streetside spa. Oil included. Most massages I had were nice and firm, if not a little bit too firm. 

Motorbike friendly: Taking a motorbike is by far my favorite option for transportation. Most places I went it was extremely easy to rent a motorbike, as well as extremely cheap. In Bali and Lombok the standard price for a bike is 50,000 rp ($5) a day, and slightly more expensive in less touristy places. Motorbike is definitely the best way to get out and see what local Indonesian life is like.

Other Transportation: Taxi’s are metered which is nice, and then you’ve also got the ojeks (motorbike taxi) which are a good alternative for a solo traveller. Some bargaining skills required though. I found the ojeks in Jakarta to be particularly exciting, as they’re always ripping their bikes on the sidewalk and down the wrong side of the road to combat the fierce traffic.  There’s also the bemos (public mini bus), which are dirt cheap, but they’re not always used to catering towards tourists and knowing a bit of Indonesian makes things a bit easier. Traveling by private car is also relatively inexpensive compared to other countries.

Wifi in Bali: Amazing! Everywhere has it, even the convenience stores, and its usually quite good. It puts Australia to shame.

Beaches: Obviously! I particularly enjoyed some of the ones in Southern Lombok and SE Sulawesi. There's usually a main beach, where you might have to deal with some people selling you crap, but if you look a little harder its not too hard to find your own secluded beach. 

The girls: I’m a fan! Well I basically say this about the girls of every Asian country I travel to nowadays, but they're good looking, friendly, and give you bonus points for being white. And some of the girls in Jakarta, my god!

Women carrying stuff on their heads: What's not to love? There's lots of talent (and strong necks) out there!

woman wearing a kebaya at the market

Traditional Indonesian dress: They have beautiful fabric and sarongs. My favorites are the women’s colorful kebayas (traditional blouse dress combination) and head scarves. Everyone looks very nice going to and from the mosques as well.

People like to be photographed: If you carry around a camera chances are someone will want you to take their photo. And while I try to be discrete if I’m taking a candid of someone, even if I do get noticed, no one seems to mind.

They like to gamble!  Even though it’s illegal it certainly doesn’t stop the men from betting on cock fights, horse races, or even the high/low dice game, often with disproportionately high amounts of money  compared to their incomes! Pro tip: Don’t play the high low game!

Guinness: They sell Guinness Foreign Extra in Indonesia and it’s a welcome change of pace from all the normal light lagers like Bintang and Anker.

The Magic Hand: Traffic can get very hectic and often there are no stoplights to allow people to safely cross the street. Well in Indonesia you can be your own stoplight! Simply make the stop motion with your hand and walk across the street and people will always stop for you. I’m a big sissy and usually cower behind the locals when they go, but it seems to work like a charm.

Decent western food: Are there lots of Italians who expatriated to Indonesia? They do pizza and pasta quite well. Usually it’s not too much more expensive than the Indo food at the restaurant.

THE BAD AND THE UGLY

Indonesian food: I think out of all the countries I’ve travelled to, Indonesia has the most boring food! Besides the fact that it’s bland (until you add the sambal sauce) there is very little variety. Whenever you stop at a local place for food the menu is almost always the exact same! You’ve got your nasi goreng, mie goreng, satays, curries, ikan, and bakso (fried rice, fried noodles, grilled meat in peanut sauce, curry, grilled fish, and fish balls) That feels like 95% of Indonesian cuisine. It drove me nuts! I’ve never eaten so much western food when traveling before. If I’m at a restaurant that has $4 Indonesian food and $5-6 western food, I’m snap ordering that spaghetti carbonara. Seriously thank god for the awesome food here in Singapore.

eating bakso (fish balls)

The Big Cities: They're sprawling, ugly, polluted, and adding more cars by the day. Traffic in Jakarta is by far the worst I have ever seen. Like massive gridlock everyday by 2pm. Leave lots of time to get to the airport!

The Booze: Way too expensive! I drink hardly anything but beer when I’m in Indonesia because the price of spirits is ridiculous. Most bars only serve imported liquor, which is taxed to high hell, and a mixed drink usually costs at least 5 or 6 dollars. Bottles of hard alcohol bought in the store cost at least two or three times what I would pay in the states. It’s definitely one of the drawbacks of traveling in a predominantly Muslim country. Sometimes you can find locally distilled palm liquor if you know where to look. It’s cheap and the quality varies, but I’ll usually have some if stumble upon it.

Lack of Nightlife: Indonesia has a fairly conservative, early to bed, early to rise type society, so finding anything interesting to do outside of a touristy area at night is probably not gonna happen. Even in Bali when I was outside of the main strip of bars the place felt eerily quiet. I must say though, when I wake up early to catch a sunrise its always amazing to see how many people are already up and about.

The Currency: The biggest bill they have is a 100,000 rupiah note, which is only like 10 dollars! When I first got to Bali I changed 500 AUD to Indonesian and got it all in 50,000 rupiah ($5) notes, wtf. Get some bigger bills!

Pain in the ass to extend 30 day visa: It’s not that bad, but it takes some advance planning. You have go to immigration office with all the required paperwork and it takes 3 days or more depending on where you go.  I didn’t feel like dealing with it so I just left the country and came back. If you want to extend past 60 days I believe you need use some quasi-legal means.

Very little English outside the tourist areas: Well this one is a double-edged sword. It can make your life hell if you don’t speak any Indonesian, but helps keep many places in Indonesia not so touristy.  Learn at least a little Bahasa Indonesia if come here!

taking the local boat

Island to island transportation: Your choices are boats and flights. For longer distances there are big ferries, but they take a long time and sometimes don't depart all that often, so flying is usually your best bet. It can get a bit expensive and you might have to fly back to the airline hub (ie Bali, Jakarta) and then off to your new location. I didn’t plan ahead and spent way too much money on flights here. For small islands taking a local boat is usually your only option. They are sometimes ill maintained and potentially dangerous in bad weather.

Wifi: Most places seem to advertise it, but the connectivity is often spotty or non-existant.

Bali police: They’re always looking to pull over foreigners on motorbikes and make them pay fines. I got two. First one I paid 20 bucks. The second time I learned my lesson and only had 5 dollars on me with no atm card. So a $5 fine. Ha!

Indonesian pop music: You think American pop music is bad? Think again! Whenever you’re in a bus they blast the Indopop ceaselessly. And if you’re on a nicer bus you get to watch the videos too, which all seem to all be in shot in a park or someone’s yard, have super corny editing effects, and probably cost about $20 to make.

The coffee: It tastes fine, but you have to wait for the grinds to settle at the bottom. I drank gross coffee grit one too many times.

Taxes and gratuity charges at tourist restaurants: Sometimes up to 20%! Am I back in America??

Rats: There seem to be a lot of them here…

Having your hotel near a mosque: Considering there are mosques freakin everywhere this is a fairly common occurrence. Get ready to be woken up at 5am to the cryptic chanting blaring from the loudspeakers.

Banana pancakes: It’s not so much that they’re bad, but if you’re at guesthouse that includes free breakfast, guess what you’re getting?! That’s right, a banana pancake! Every damn day. Or maybe you can have toast instead. But…

Indonesian butter: disgusting!

Okay, that’s all I could think of off the top of my head

Conclusion: I can definitely recommend traveling in Indonesia. I mean its so huge and diverse I think almost any anyone can find something they’re looking for. I think it caters a bit more towards the slightly adventurous traveller, as the English and tourist infrastructure in many places is not so good. I especially enjoyed the culture, the scuba diving, and being able to relax on a quiet beach one day and hike up a 3,000m volcano the next. Although it is a bit more expensive than almost any other SE Asian country I’ve been to, so if you’re on a shoestring budget, Indonesia is probably not the best option. And if you’re looking for a party scene, just stick to Bali. But otherwise I think Indonesia has plenty to offer, and I hope I’ll be back some day!

school kids in Ende, Flores