I got up in the dark at 5:30 on the morning of the 11th, had breakfast at 6, and at 6:30 boarded a taxi to get to Yangon's bus station almost ten miles from the city center. I had been told that with the morning rush hour traffic it might take an hour or more to get to the bus station, but it took only 45 minutes. The traffic was quite thick in places. My taxi crossed the wide Yangon River by bridge and headed through almost rural areas to get to the bus station east of the city. I wonder why they put it so far out. In any event, my bus left about 8, heading west to Pathein, formerly known as Bassein. I had hoped to get there by river ferry from Yangon, but have been told they were discontinued about six months ago.
The bus was fairly comfortable, but without much leg room, and I enjoyed the journey through the verdant Irrawaddy (now Ayeyarwady) River delta region. Greenery was everywhere, as was lots of water. The narrow asphalt and much patched road passed very green rice fields and fields of other crops. In some places, however, the rice was either ready for harvesting or had just been harvested. The sky was cloudy and a few raindrops fell. There was very little traffic on that narrow road. Water seemed to be everywhere: canals, ponds, rivers. Houses often had narrow bamboo bridges built over the canal between them and the road.
We crossed the wide Irrawaddy about 9:30, a bit more than 40 miles from Yangon. The bridge is supposed to be about a mile and three quarters long, though much of it is over land. When the river is in flood, the situation must be much different. There was another bridge, for both trains and cars, just upriver, and a sandbank in the center of the river. We stopped at a roadside restaurant soon after crossing and spent almost an hour there as the bus driver and his assistant spent the time making repairs under the bus. I ate some quail eggs, which were good but difficult to peal. We didn't have any problems as we continued west through the green and watery countryside. There were very few road signs in the Roman alphabet. Burmese has quite an appealing, curlicued alphabet.
We reached Pathein's bus station, three and a half miles from the city center, about 12:30 and I took a motorcycle taxi to a hotel in the center. Pathein is the largest port in the delta and has been a major port for centuries. I think it has about 200,000 people, but doesn't seem that populated. I ate a fish and rice lunch and then looked around the town. I walked to the waterfront. The Pathein River breaks off from the Irrawaddy more than a hundred miles to the north. Many boats were ferrying people across the wide river, or chugging up or down the river. The small boats ferrying people across the river are paddled by standing boatmen using two oars on small posts.
From the riverfront I walked to the train station, first passing some shops selling the colorful silk and bamboo parasols that Pathein is famous for. I talked to the friendly train personnel and then sat in the station long enough to watch some passengers toting a lot of bundles leave on some sort of one carriage train. I walked back to the town center and entered the Shwemokhtaw Paya, another golden stupa surrounded by prayer halls, near the river. As always, people were friendly and I talked to a red robed monk and his sister, clad in lime green tights with not quite matching green fingernail polish. It was a bit surprising to see a monk accompanied by a young woman dressed like that, or by any woman at all, but I figured they must be brother and sister. They told me they are Karens, from near Hpa-an. The brother is in a monastery near Pathein.
From the stupa I walked a bit north and then along the riverbank as the sun set. There is a very nice place to sit, with benches and individual plastic chairs on a sort of patio right along the river. A lot of folks were there and I sat among them and watched the busy river traffic until it got dark about 6. Before dark, lots of birds, mostly egrets but also some ibises, I think, were flying downriver, often in V formation. It was a very nice place to see the end of the day. I walked back into the pagoda to see it all lit up at night. The opening ceremonies of the South East Asia Games, hosted by Myanmar, were on television that evening, and I watched large portions of them over the course of the evening on televisions in the arcades leading to the pagoda, in my hotel lobby, and in the restaurant where I ate dinner. The opening ceremonies, obviously modeled on the Olympics, were very professionally done. The slogan for the games is "Clean, Green and Friendship." A little odd. Perhaps "Friendly" would have been better.
The next morning I got up early and walked around the city center, to the riverfront, through the colorful morning market, and to the central pagoda. People were particularly friendly, as comparatively few tourists come here, although I have seen several. A particularly friendly, but shy, girl monk, maybe in her early teens, with pink robes and an orange cloak folded on top of her shaved head, sat down near me on the riverfront and kept looking over. I'm never sure how friendly you should be with Buddhist nuns, but eventually I asked to take her picture and she seemed pleased. From the townspeople I got lots of hellos and mingulabas ("mingulaba" is the standard greeting and is supposed to mean "may auspiciousness be upon you") and lots of big smiles. I spent about two hours walking around until I got hungry and stopped for breakfast at a tea house where I ate some sort of chappatti with sweet little beans and a couple of doughy, sweet pancakes with some sort of little seeds on them, plus coffee and tea. Very good.
The day, unlike the day before, was sunny. I had torn a hole in one of my two pairs of shorts, so was taken to a seamstress in the market by a boy from my hotel. She quickly and expertly patched it using an old fashioned, pedal powered sewing machine at a charge of about 50 cents. Afterwards I wandered through the indoor market. It contained enormous amount of bananas and quite a lot of big, dark tobacco leaves. Dry beans and rice and other grains, plus much else, were also on sale. Old fashioned metal scales were being used for weighing. Lots of baskets, rather than plastic or cardboard, were being used for containers.
Eventually, I hired what is called a trishaw or saiq ka (as in "sidecar"), a bicycle with a little wooden sidecar attached to it, to take me to a parasol workshop about a mile away. The ride was bumpy on the dirt and poorly paved roads we eventually had to pass. I probably should have taken a motorcycle taxi, as it would have been faster and more comfortable, but I decided to give my custom to the saiq ka driver as I figured if he could have afforded a motorcycle, he would have had one.
The parasol factory was very interesting. There were dozens of colorful silk and bamboo parasols on display in the simple, but large, workshop. An English speaking guy showed me around. Some larger parasols were being made out of cotton, then waterproofed by being covered first with glue and left to dry in the sun for the day. The guide told me they next would be covered with diesel and then persimmon juice (if I understood him correctly, and I think I did). The big parasols were maybe eight to ten feet in diameter. I also watched a guy putting the wood and bamboo frames together and a woman tying the intricate string lacing under one of the large parasols. Another guy, a man of 60, was very delicately hand painting flowers on parasols. Other parasols had ducks and intricate designs painted on them. The guide told me the painter was the grandson of the founder of the workshop. Prices were very reasonable for the standard size parasols, something around five or seven dollars.
I wandered around watching everything for more than an hour, and nobody seemed to mind. In fact, as usual, they were quite friendly. I next walked a short distance to the Settayaw Paya, a part dilapidated and part under construction pagoda. One old timber hall was very nice, with a large standing Buddha inside. Outside were uncompleted, rough statues of demons rather gruesomely punishing sinners. I watched some chinlon players nearby for a while. One guy was particularly good, especially with his behind the back kicks.
I took a motorcycle taxi back to the center and spent a couple of hot afternoon hours in an air conditioned internet cafe, and then in the late afternoon walked to the river to see the sunset. I met a chubby, jovial, bald headed (except for a little tuft in the back) French guy with a bright orange shirt and tiny circular glasses with wide orange rims. He was quite interesting to talk to and had been in the city for three days. Some boys about 12 or 14 showed up and then showed off by jumping into the river. One even did a back flip into the river. Later they both snorted thread into their noses and then pulled it out. One managed to snort it into his nose and then pull it out through his mouth. He held both ends of the thread, one out his nose and the other out his mouth, and pulled them back and forth. Pretty odd.
The sunset was particularly beautiful, with lots of boats on the river and lots of birds heading south over the river. People on the waterfront were very friendly. Other than perhaps West Africans, I don't think I have ever met people as friendly as in Burma. I stayed again until after dark and then went to the illuminated pagoda, where there were more worshipers than the evening before. I suppose the evening before a lot of people were home watching the opening ceremonies of the South East Asia Games.
From Pathein I wanted to head north to Pyay and decided to do it with a couple of stops in towns on the way reachable by train. I had set my alarm to get up the next morning in time for the 5:30 express train north, but managed to sleep through it. I did make the slower 6:40 train (more than eight hours northeast to Hinthada, maybe a hundred miles from Pathein, in comparison to five hours and forty minutes on the express), with a two dollar ordinary seat, on wooden slat benches. The old carriage was not full, and a pretty, pink-clad young nun sat across the aisle from me. She shyly offered me some cookies and spoke some English. We slowly headed north through the green countryside in the early morning, the carriages rocking. The nun pointed out some things along the way that she thought I should photograph and then got out at Daka about an hour and a half after we left Pathein. As she left she handed me what she called a "present," wrapped tightly in green leaves, and then walked away from the train under her dark red Pathein parasol. Inside the leaves was sticky sweet rice, very good, that she had bought at a previous station stop.
We continued northeast passing very simple thatch houses among the fields of rice and vegetables. We made stops at very small, decrepit stations, and some longer stops at larger, decrepit stations, once for forty minutes. I enjoyed the stops as I could watch all the people in the little towns and villages. I was the only foreigner on the train and, as usual, people were very friendly. I got a lot of curious looks from the local people at stations who saw me peering out the window. Big bundles and baskets were loaded on at some stops. I bought peanuts and quail eggs.
The terrain became drier as we headed north, though there was still lots of water. My butt was getting sore by the time we arrived at Hinthada at 2:45. Hinthada is a fairly large city, just west of the Irrawaddy. My guidebook had nothing about it. I think it has just been opened to foreigners. A trishaw took me through dusty streets to a hotel and I got a good room, with air conditioning, for 24,000 kyat (about $25), the first hotel that I paid for in kyat rather than dollars. Hungry, I went to a nearby tea shop and ate some sweet and greasy large things shaped like very large doughnut holes, along with tea, while watching the South East Asia Games on television. I took a walk around town until sunset, visiting a couple of pagodas, a dirty market, and passing lots of very friendly and curious people. I got lots of smiles. Sometimes someone would look at me curiously and then break into a big smile once I smiled at or greeted him or her. I went to bed at 8:30 and slept for eleven hours.
The next morning I had a greasy but good breakfast, four samosas, two doughy sweet things, and tea, all for about 50 cents, and then caught the 11:20 train, the express I had missed the day before, heading further north. This time I was sold a five dollar upper class ticket, with padded seats. Still, it was another rocky, but very interesting ride through the countryside, mostly of rice fields already harvested or ready to be harvested. I saw quite a few bullock carts, with wooden wheels, heaped with rice stalks. I saw some threshing here and there. The day was cloudy, with even a few raindrops. We crossed the wide Pathein River about 15 or 20 miles south of where it breaks off from the Irrawaddy. As always, the people were very friendly and I once again was the only foreigner on the train. A little boy across from me was dressed in a Spiderman style pajamas.
Arriving in the small town of Maun-aung, about 70 miles from Hinthada and another town not discussed in my guidebook, I took a trishaw to a hotel and was given a "special room," with air conditioning, for 15,000 kyat. I noticed they had other rooms for 8,000 kyat and asked about an ordinary room, but they made clear I was to get the special room. I walked around the very pretty little town, with wet streets from the short rain. I walked through the grounds of a large, old monastery and meet a few of the six monks staying there. One spoke some English and told me the grand wooden main hall was over a hundred years old. I walked to the railroad tracks and then back towards the Irrawaddy. The outskirts of town, near the tracks, had quite a village feel to it, but in the two blocks closest to the river there were some two and three story colonial buildings. There wasn't much traffic. The Irrawaddy is quite wide here, and down maybe twenty or thirty feet below the bank. There were a few boats on the river. People of all ages were again very curious and friendly as I walked around until it got dark.
I spent more than an hour the next morning at the fantastic market in the streets and alleys near the river. Lots of fish, of all types, was on offer, along with vegetables and much else. People were very curious and friendly. I suspect I was the only foreigner in town and not many others had visited in recent years. One old woman came up to me to have her photo taken. I could have stayed for hours, but left for breakfast at a tea house. The hotel manager from my hotel came in and paid for the breakfast as a parting gift.
At 9 I left on a small bus heading the final four hours on bad roads to Pyay. We passed lots of heavily laden bullock carts, full of rice stalks, and I saw lots of threshing being done. The terrain turned hilly in the latter part of the trip. At a tea stop the bus driver bought me tea. We crossed the wide Irrawaddy on a long bridge (3/4 of a mile), with views of Pyay's golden Shwesandaw Pagoda up on a hill in the center of town on the opposite, eastern bank of the river. In town we passed between the Shwesandaw and a giant Buddha, called the Ten Story Buddha, but not quite that tall.
In Pyay (also called Pyi, but known as Prome in colonial times) I found a hotel, had lunch, and then walked along the river under shady trees. Turning inland away from the river, I walked to the Shwesandaw Pagoda and climbed the covered stairway on its west side to the top, a climb of a little more than a hundred feet. I got there about 3 and stayed until after nightfall, until about 6:30. This is quite a beautiful pagoda, all gold with lots of golden spires and smaller golden stupas and altars all around, with halls on the outside of the circuit around the stupa. It is three feet higher than the Shwedagon Pagoda in Yangon, but has only four hairs of the Buddha inside, in contrast to Shwedagon's eight. A little photo gallery in one of the halls had a photo of it in 1855 and another photo of it from 1945 with Gurkhas walking past it as they retook the city from the Japanese. From Shwesandaw there are great views, of the ten story Buddha and other golden stupas on nearby hills. You can see the wide river, the bridge across it, and the hills beyond. Across the river is another golden stupa on a hill.
As the afternoon wore on, the number of worshipers increased, many praying at the flower laden altars ringing the main stupa. The sun set behind the hills across the Irrawaddy about 5:30, as hundreds of little, chirping birds landed on the pagoda's minor stupas and spires ringing the main golden stupa to settle down for the night. The birdsong as it grew dark added to the beauty of the place. The lights came on, illuminating the huge gold central stupa. A group of six monks came up and asked to pose with me for photos. I think I was at least a head taller than each of them. Leaving, I walked down to the foot of the giant Buddha, also lit up, and then walked back in the dark to my hotel. In the town's main square, behind an equestrian statue of Aung San, a giant video screen showed a soccer match from the South East Asia Games.
The bus was fairly comfortable, but without much leg room, and I enjoyed the journey through the verdant Irrawaddy (now Ayeyarwady) River delta region. Greenery was everywhere, as was lots of water. The narrow asphalt and much patched road passed very green rice fields and fields of other crops. In some places, however, the rice was either ready for harvesting or had just been harvested. The sky was cloudy and a few raindrops fell. There was very little traffic on that narrow road. Water seemed to be everywhere: canals, ponds, rivers. Houses often had narrow bamboo bridges built over the canal between them and the road.
We crossed the wide Irrawaddy about 9:30, a bit more than 40 miles from Yangon. The bridge is supposed to be about a mile and three quarters long, though much of it is over land. When the river is in flood, the situation must be much different. There was another bridge, for both trains and cars, just upriver, and a sandbank in the center of the river. We stopped at a roadside restaurant soon after crossing and spent almost an hour there as the bus driver and his assistant spent the time making repairs under the bus. I ate some quail eggs, which were good but difficult to peal. We didn't have any problems as we continued west through the green and watery countryside. There were very few road signs in the Roman alphabet. Burmese has quite an appealing, curlicued alphabet.
We reached Pathein's bus station, three and a half miles from the city center, about 12:30 and I took a motorcycle taxi to a hotel in the center. Pathein is the largest port in the delta and has been a major port for centuries. I think it has about 200,000 people, but doesn't seem that populated. I ate a fish and rice lunch and then looked around the town. I walked to the waterfront. The Pathein River breaks off from the Irrawaddy more than a hundred miles to the north. Many boats were ferrying people across the wide river, or chugging up or down the river. The small boats ferrying people across the river are paddled by standing boatmen using two oars on small posts.
From the riverfront I walked to the train station, first passing some shops selling the colorful silk and bamboo parasols that Pathein is famous for. I talked to the friendly train personnel and then sat in the station long enough to watch some passengers toting a lot of bundles leave on some sort of one carriage train. I walked back to the town center and entered the Shwemokhtaw Paya, another golden stupa surrounded by prayer halls, near the river. As always, people were friendly and I talked to a red robed monk and his sister, clad in lime green tights with not quite matching green fingernail polish. It was a bit surprising to see a monk accompanied by a young woman dressed like that, or by any woman at all, but I figured they must be brother and sister. They told me they are Karens, from near Hpa-an. The brother is in a monastery near Pathein.
From the stupa I walked a bit north and then along the riverbank as the sun set. There is a very nice place to sit, with benches and individual plastic chairs on a sort of patio right along the river. A lot of folks were there and I sat among them and watched the busy river traffic until it got dark about 6. Before dark, lots of birds, mostly egrets but also some ibises, I think, were flying downriver, often in V formation. It was a very nice place to see the end of the day. I walked back into the pagoda to see it all lit up at night. The opening ceremonies of the South East Asia Games, hosted by Myanmar, were on television that evening, and I watched large portions of them over the course of the evening on televisions in the arcades leading to the pagoda, in my hotel lobby, and in the restaurant where I ate dinner. The opening ceremonies, obviously modeled on the Olympics, were very professionally done. The slogan for the games is "Clean, Green and Friendship." A little odd. Perhaps "Friendly" would have been better.
The next morning I got up early and walked around the city center, to the riverfront, through the colorful morning market, and to the central pagoda. People were particularly friendly, as comparatively few tourists come here, although I have seen several. A particularly friendly, but shy, girl monk, maybe in her early teens, with pink robes and an orange cloak folded on top of her shaved head, sat down near me on the riverfront and kept looking over. I'm never sure how friendly you should be with Buddhist nuns, but eventually I asked to take her picture and she seemed pleased. From the townspeople I got lots of hellos and mingulabas ("mingulaba" is the standard greeting and is supposed to mean "may auspiciousness be upon you") and lots of big smiles. I spent about two hours walking around until I got hungry and stopped for breakfast at a tea house where I ate some sort of chappatti with sweet little beans and a couple of doughy, sweet pancakes with some sort of little seeds on them, plus coffee and tea. Very good.
The day, unlike the day before, was sunny. I had torn a hole in one of my two pairs of shorts, so was taken to a seamstress in the market by a boy from my hotel. She quickly and expertly patched it using an old fashioned, pedal powered sewing machine at a charge of about 50 cents. Afterwards I wandered through the indoor market. It contained enormous amount of bananas and quite a lot of big, dark tobacco leaves. Dry beans and rice and other grains, plus much else, were also on sale. Old fashioned metal scales were being used for weighing. Lots of baskets, rather than plastic or cardboard, were being used for containers.
Eventually, I hired what is called a trishaw or saiq ka (as in "sidecar"), a bicycle with a little wooden sidecar attached to it, to take me to a parasol workshop about a mile away. The ride was bumpy on the dirt and poorly paved roads we eventually had to pass. I probably should have taken a motorcycle taxi, as it would have been faster and more comfortable, but I decided to give my custom to the saiq ka driver as I figured if he could have afforded a motorcycle, he would have had one.
The parasol factory was very interesting. There were dozens of colorful silk and bamboo parasols on display in the simple, but large, workshop. An English speaking guy showed me around. Some larger parasols were being made out of cotton, then waterproofed by being covered first with glue and left to dry in the sun for the day. The guide told me they next would be covered with diesel and then persimmon juice (if I understood him correctly, and I think I did). The big parasols were maybe eight to ten feet in diameter. I also watched a guy putting the wood and bamboo frames together and a woman tying the intricate string lacing under one of the large parasols. Another guy, a man of 60, was very delicately hand painting flowers on parasols. Other parasols had ducks and intricate designs painted on them. The guide told me the painter was the grandson of the founder of the workshop. Prices were very reasonable for the standard size parasols, something around five or seven dollars.
I wandered around watching everything for more than an hour, and nobody seemed to mind. In fact, as usual, they were quite friendly. I next walked a short distance to the Settayaw Paya, a part dilapidated and part under construction pagoda. One old timber hall was very nice, with a large standing Buddha inside. Outside were uncompleted, rough statues of demons rather gruesomely punishing sinners. I watched some chinlon players nearby for a while. One guy was particularly good, especially with his behind the back kicks.
I took a motorcycle taxi back to the center and spent a couple of hot afternoon hours in an air conditioned internet cafe, and then in the late afternoon walked to the river to see the sunset. I met a chubby, jovial, bald headed (except for a little tuft in the back) French guy with a bright orange shirt and tiny circular glasses with wide orange rims. He was quite interesting to talk to and had been in the city for three days. Some boys about 12 or 14 showed up and then showed off by jumping into the river. One even did a back flip into the river. Later they both snorted thread into their noses and then pulled it out. One managed to snort it into his nose and then pull it out through his mouth. He held both ends of the thread, one out his nose and the other out his mouth, and pulled them back and forth. Pretty odd.
The sunset was particularly beautiful, with lots of boats on the river and lots of birds heading south over the river. People on the waterfront were very friendly. Other than perhaps West Africans, I don't think I have ever met people as friendly as in Burma. I stayed again until after dark and then went to the illuminated pagoda, where there were more worshipers than the evening before. I suppose the evening before a lot of people were home watching the opening ceremonies of the South East Asia Games.
From Pathein I wanted to head north to Pyay and decided to do it with a couple of stops in towns on the way reachable by train. I had set my alarm to get up the next morning in time for the 5:30 express train north, but managed to sleep through it. I did make the slower 6:40 train (more than eight hours northeast to Hinthada, maybe a hundred miles from Pathein, in comparison to five hours and forty minutes on the express), with a two dollar ordinary seat, on wooden slat benches. The old carriage was not full, and a pretty, pink-clad young nun sat across the aisle from me. She shyly offered me some cookies and spoke some English. We slowly headed north through the green countryside in the early morning, the carriages rocking. The nun pointed out some things along the way that she thought I should photograph and then got out at Daka about an hour and a half after we left Pathein. As she left she handed me what she called a "present," wrapped tightly in green leaves, and then walked away from the train under her dark red Pathein parasol. Inside the leaves was sticky sweet rice, very good, that she had bought at a previous station stop.
We continued northeast passing very simple thatch houses among the fields of rice and vegetables. We made stops at very small, decrepit stations, and some longer stops at larger, decrepit stations, once for forty minutes. I enjoyed the stops as I could watch all the people in the little towns and villages. I was the only foreigner on the train and, as usual, people were very friendly. I got a lot of curious looks from the local people at stations who saw me peering out the window. Big bundles and baskets were loaded on at some stops. I bought peanuts and quail eggs.
The terrain became drier as we headed north, though there was still lots of water. My butt was getting sore by the time we arrived at Hinthada at 2:45. Hinthada is a fairly large city, just west of the Irrawaddy. My guidebook had nothing about it. I think it has just been opened to foreigners. A trishaw took me through dusty streets to a hotel and I got a good room, with air conditioning, for 24,000 kyat (about $25), the first hotel that I paid for in kyat rather than dollars. Hungry, I went to a nearby tea shop and ate some sweet and greasy large things shaped like very large doughnut holes, along with tea, while watching the South East Asia Games on television. I took a walk around town until sunset, visiting a couple of pagodas, a dirty market, and passing lots of very friendly and curious people. I got lots of smiles. Sometimes someone would look at me curiously and then break into a big smile once I smiled at or greeted him or her. I went to bed at 8:30 and slept for eleven hours.
The next morning I had a greasy but good breakfast, four samosas, two doughy sweet things, and tea, all for about 50 cents, and then caught the 11:20 train, the express I had missed the day before, heading further north. This time I was sold a five dollar upper class ticket, with padded seats. Still, it was another rocky, but very interesting ride through the countryside, mostly of rice fields already harvested or ready to be harvested. I saw quite a few bullock carts, with wooden wheels, heaped with rice stalks. I saw some threshing here and there. The day was cloudy, with even a few raindrops. We crossed the wide Pathein River about 15 or 20 miles south of where it breaks off from the Irrawaddy. As always, the people were very friendly and I once again was the only foreigner on the train. A little boy across from me was dressed in a Spiderman style pajamas.
Arriving in the small town of Maun-aung, about 70 miles from Hinthada and another town not discussed in my guidebook, I took a trishaw to a hotel and was given a "special room," with air conditioning, for 15,000 kyat. I noticed they had other rooms for 8,000 kyat and asked about an ordinary room, but they made clear I was to get the special room. I walked around the very pretty little town, with wet streets from the short rain. I walked through the grounds of a large, old monastery and meet a few of the six monks staying there. One spoke some English and told me the grand wooden main hall was over a hundred years old. I walked to the railroad tracks and then back towards the Irrawaddy. The outskirts of town, near the tracks, had quite a village feel to it, but in the two blocks closest to the river there were some two and three story colonial buildings. There wasn't much traffic. The Irrawaddy is quite wide here, and down maybe twenty or thirty feet below the bank. There were a few boats on the river. People of all ages were again very curious and friendly as I walked around until it got dark.
I spent more than an hour the next morning at the fantastic market in the streets and alleys near the river. Lots of fish, of all types, was on offer, along with vegetables and much else. People were very curious and friendly. I suspect I was the only foreigner in town and not many others had visited in recent years. One old woman came up to me to have her photo taken. I could have stayed for hours, but left for breakfast at a tea house. The hotel manager from my hotel came in and paid for the breakfast as a parting gift.
At 9 I left on a small bus heading the final four hours on bad roads to Pyay. We passed lots of heavily laden bullock carts, full of rice stalks, and I saw lots of threshing being done. The terrain turned hilly in the latter part of the trip. At a tea stop the bus driver bought me tea. We crossed the wide Irrawaddy on a long bridge (3/4 of a mile), with views of Pyay's golden Shwesandaw Pagoda up on a hill in the center of town on the opposite, eastern bank of the river. In town we passed between the Shwesandaw and a giant Buddha, called the Ten Story Buddha, but not quite that tall.
In Pyay (also called Pyi, but known as Prome in colonial times) I found a hotel, had lunch, and then walked along the river under shady trees. Turning inland away from the river, I walked to the Shwesandaw Pagoda and climbed the covered stairway on its west side to the top, a climb of a little more than a hundred feet. I got there about 3 and stayed until after nightfall, until about 6:30. This is quite a beautiful pagoda, all gold with lots of golden spires and smaller golden stupas and altars all around, with halls on the outside of the circuit around the stupa. It is three feet higher than the Shwedagon Pagoda in Yangon, but has only four hairs of the Buddha inside, in contrast to Shwedagon's eight. A little photo gallery in one of the halls had a photo of it in 1855 and another photo of it from 1945 with Gurkhas walking past it as they retook the city from the Japanese. From Shwesandaw there are great views, of the ten story Buddha and other golden stupas on nearby hills. You can see the wide river, the bridge across it, and the hills beyond. Across the river is another golden stupa on a hill.
As the afternoon wore on, the number of worshipers increased, many praying at the flower laden altars ringing the main stupa. The sun set behind the hills across the Irrawaddy about 5:30, as hundreds of little, chirping birds landed on the pagoda's minor stupas and spires ringing the main golden stupa to settle down for the night. The birdsong as it grew dark added to the beauty of the place. The lights came on, illuminating the huge gold central stupa. A group of six monks came up and asked to pose with me for photos. I think I was at least a head taller than each of them. Leaving, I walked down to the foot of the giant Buddha, also lit up, and then walked back in the dark to my hotel. In the town's main square, behind an equestrian statue of Aung San, a giant video screen showed a soccer match from the South East Asia Games.
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