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Around the World 2022 Asia Singapore

Impressive Singapore: first impressions

Singapore is one of those places I had no interest in. I never doubted that it was clean or safe, that it had world class restaurants, a high standard of living, and excellent shopping; I just don’t care about those things. Give me dirty, overcrowded, dodgy, chaotic cities. To be fair to Singapore, because I quickly dismissed it, I didn’t spend any time reading about it. I might not have gone at all, except that on my flight back to Vancouver from Bangladesh, many of the flights had layovers in Singapore. It was my opportunity to see it for myself.

I would spend two full days and two nights in Singapore, which was enough. I saw what I wanted to see in that time – but it was at an exhausting pace. I think stretching it out to three days would be more reasonable.

A teensy bit about Singapore

The micro country of Singapore is an island at the tip of the Malaysian peninsula, just above the Equator. Singapore was a trading port city back in about the 14^th century. In the early 17^th century, the Portuguese destroyed it and then then it remained in relative obscurity until the British colonel and governor Sir Stamford Raffles (his name is everywhere) arrived in 1819 and ‘founded’ it as a new port. Singapore became a British possession in 1824 and it became an important trade location and, later, military base. It was occupied by the Japanese in WWII and the British lost control to the Japanese in 1942 at the Battle of Singapore. It then fell into more bad times post war with a loss of infrastructure and continued discord in the region as it and other former British colonies moved towards sovereignty. Singapore was part of Malaysia for a time and then became its own country in 1965.

Today Singapore is very wealthy and multicultural. Known for being clean, expensive, and modern, having great food, having a ban on buying and selling chewing gum for non-medicinal purposes, having the death penalty for many crimes including drug trafficking, and having caning as a possible punishment for many offenses including voyeurism. Oh, and it is illegal for men to engage in sex with each other. Not women though. Countries are complicated.

First Impressions

I landed at about 5am. Breezed through the airport where, disappointingly, they do not stamp passports, even if you ask. Twice. I took a taxi to my hostel. There is no train, there are buses, but I just wanted to get to where I was going with maximum efficiently. It wasn’t too expensive. I forget exactly how much. Maybe about $30 cdn.

My hostel, KINN Capsule Hotel, was located right in the centre of downtown, in a perfect location near restaurants, the harbour, the subway, a hawker centre – pretty much everything I needed. The hostel was tidy with clean and comfortable dorms; the kind that are like little pods, closed with a curtain. It was great in many respects, except that it didn’t have a kitchen, just a coffee station and the hang out area was designed in such a way that it seemed like they didn’t want people to hang out. Anyway, I was there such a short time I just needed a place to sleep. The hostel was pretty cheap by Singapore standards ~$70/night cdn.

My failure was thinking that I did not need to book a bed the night before I arrived. (I know better but was trying to save money.) I got there at 5:30am to drop off my bag. What I really needed was maybe 2 hours of sleep. That would have to wait.

As I walked out, the sun was just about to come up and I stopped for a coffee. Once up, the city was illuminated but still quiet. People were out jogging and doing tai chi along the waterfront promenade. The city did look flawlessly clean, and the tall, skinny towers gleamed and reflected in the still waterways. Lower to the ground were British colonial buildings, with buttercream columns, and pristine white statues of British figures.

My first impression was that it was a very impressive looking city. I would not say it is beautiful and it did not excite me, but it did feel impressive and, importantly, it didn’t remind me of any other city. It wasn’t like Seoul or Singapore, Hong Kong or Taiwan. It seemed more refined, more uptight. Well put together in way that looked great but doesn’t seem like that much fun. That’s why the word that I keep coming back to when I think about it is impressive.

Day one

I spent my first day walking around the central downtown neighbourhood, the waterfront, the harbour, and Chinatown. I walked along the waterways and to the Merlion Park, which is a scenic view of the water with a large Merlion statue/fountain. Merlion? Yep. The city’s national icon is a Merlion: half fish, half lion. It is supposed to be a reference to Singapore’s origins as a fishing village combined with the original name for the city, which translated to ‘lion city’. I was told that many people hate the Merlion statue. I liked it. It’s white and pretty and different.

From this view you can see over the water to some iconic modern structures. It is all quite scenic and impressive. I got a fresh juice and continued to wander.

En route to Chinatown, I sopped and had breakfast. I went to a coffee and toast place. Or more specifically a Kopi and toast place. Singapore has its own coffee traditions. First, they call it kopi. It is roasted differently. It is strong coffee served in small portions with sugar or condensed or evaporated milk or many other variations. “Kopi-O” is coffee with sugar. “Kopi-C” is coffee with sugar and evaporated milk. And so on. The Kopi is served at breakfast with toast. You can get the toast a myriad of ways, but the traditional way seems to be butter and kaya (some kind of sweet coconut jam), served with soft boiled eggs. I ordered the breakfast set but didn’t have the eggs because eggs are gross.

I walked to Chinatown. I visited the temples, including the Buddha Tooth (replica) Temple (I think it is hilarious that they just openly admit that it’s not an actual relic) and the Hindu Sri Mariamman Temple. I liked the Hindu temple much more. The Buddhist one is very new and feels it. It looked impressive (there’s that word again) but felt a little cheap.

Chinatown was great for a walk though. The streets are lined with these pretty two-story buildings, painted pastel colors and with wooden shutters. Lanterns hung in the streets. And there were lots of appealing cafes and shops to poke around in. I was also looking for (and found) a cigar shop/lounge but it was closed.

Feeling peckish, I visited the Chinatown Complex Food Centre, one of Singapore’s famous hawker centres. A hawker centre is kind of like a food court, but it is partly outdoors, and each food stall is of the highest quality; often with a family making a few dishes for many years to perfection. There is even a Michelin star hawker centre stall. And it is cheap. I had a bowl of some sort of laksa type of vegetarian soup for less than $5 and it was excellent.

I spent the late afternoon doing more of the same: walking and poking around the streets. I took shelter at a café for an hour when a torrential downpour made the streets impassible. I had a cigar along the water at a Thai restaurant. As the sun started to set, I headed out again after a short nap and went to the Gardens by the Bay and did more eating and walking, but I will put that in a separate post.

My first day in Singapore was really good. Not exciting, but pleasant. I enjoyed the walking and the sights. while it is quite modern, it has enough of its own character that I still found it interesting – and impressive.

Around the World 2022 Asia Bangladesh

Discovering Dhaka, Bangladesh

I like cities, better than nature if I am being honest. Sometimes when I pick a city to visit it is because it has something specific I want to see, but sometimes I am just curious about a city itself. Dhaka, Bangladesh was one of those cities. I had little on a list of ‘sites’ to see in Dhaka; it was just the city itself that appealed. Everything I read about it suggested it would be either a lively chaos or a miserable cesspool. (Seriously, most people had nothing but negative things to say about it.) Either way, I knew it would be interesting. I’ll just say now, I loved it. I loved it instantly and throughout.

It started the moment I stepped out of the airport, having flown there from Jeddah, Saudi Arabia. People crowded, shouting, pushing perilous towers of beaten-up luggage, cars bumper-to-bumper, instant heat and smells of people and exhaust and perfume. Terrific.

I got a taxi to take me to my accommodation. Dhaka is notorious for its traffic, and we did spend a little time crawling along, but I didn’t mind because everything was exciting. The overcrowded buses that looked like they had been through 50 years of bad driving, the tuk tuks, bicycles, rickshaws, and trucks, all jockeying for position. I’m sure that if I lived there, I wouldn’t be so enthusiastic, but as a new arrival, everything seemed new and thrilling.

And then we pulled up to the high gate of my accommodation: the Ambrosia Guest House. I can confidently say I would not stay anywhere else in Dhaka. There are no hostels to speak of and most of the budget hotels look grim. The fancy hotels look generic and are in a dull part of town, but this Guest House is in a perfect location for a walker like me, just off a main road but slightly tucked away with a beautiful garden oasis. I had a big private room, use of the common areas, and enjoyed breakfast each morning with the other guests. In the evenings, I had a cigar in the garden.

But I didn’t travel to Dhaka to luxuriate in gardens. So out I went.

The streets in Dhaka are wonderful madness. Endless traffic with a parade of colourful rickshaws, creating a cheerful din of handlebar bells. Old, repurposed, red double-decker buses from the UK. The regular city buses, so beaten up but painted with colourful patterns and sometimes with whimsical hearts or birds. And of course, bicycles, tuk tuks, and people on foot, like me, all moving together. It is chaos, but it works.

Everything is loud, from the voices to the horns and bells, to announcements made over loudspeakers about, presumably, things for sale at the central market.

It is colourful. Not just the buses, but the people, many dressed in bright local or traditional clothing, stalls selling fresh flowers, businesses covered in a riot of multicoloured signage that can only come from a lack of regulation.

Nothing is orderly or slow. It is all terrific and exhilarating.

I walked for a bit, stopping for coffees or teas. I wandered through book stalls and shops at the market and meandered around taking it all in.

I then hailed a rickshaw to take me to the edge of Old Dhaka. That was fun. I discovered later that I paid about 10x more than I should have, but the price I paid was still like $3 cdn, so it was cheap – especially since I was paying for a slightly-built human being to pull me by the power of his own cycling whilst I rode in my sparkly rickshaw seat like a king.

I was dropped off at the Dhakeshwari Temple, a candy-coloured Hindu temple. I can’t tell you much about it, but it was busy with worshippers and had altars of slightly fearsome, slightly comedic looking gods.

From there, I wandered towards the Lalbagh Fort. It wasn’t difficult to find. Buildings in Old Dhaka are not that tall and eventually I saw the walls and the tops of the fort ahead of me. The entrance fee was negligible and well worth it. The fort structures inside are fine. A bit like the Red Fort in Delhi or the Lahore Fort in Lahore, but much smaller. The real treat are the grounds, lovely expanses of green with beautiful flowers.

It was all locals (and me) inside, everyone enjoying the serenity. It was there though that I discovered the Bangladeshis’ fondness for selfies. I couldn’t go a few feet without being asked to take selfies with people. One person asked me to hold their baby for the photo. (I declined that. I’ve never held a baby in my life and was not to start with a stranger’s child.) Eventually I had to start declining the selfies or I would never get where I was going. People asked me where I was from and, smiling, wished me happy travels in Bangladesh. Both the selfies and friendly greetings happened everywhere. Even people that spoke very little English would manage to ask me where I was from and say, “thank you”.

From there I visited the Armenian church, a pretty buttercream and yellow church surrounded by trees. I was let in by the caretaker who unlocked it and was happy to show me around. (All my pictures were lousy, but it is worth visiting.)

I stepped out of the church and was trying to decide which direction to walk next, when a young man approached me. He spoke English and asked me where I was from and if I was lost. I explained I was just looking around and he suggested I walk to the river and told me the way. He gave me his business card and said that if I needed anything, to contact him. That too was not the only time that kind of hospitality happened.

I did walk down to the banks of the Bariganga River. The river is the life of the city, connecting it to the rest of the country. The waterways are filled with passenger ships, cargo ships, and little boats transporting people and goods. It is as energetic as the streets. I sat on the banks of the river, smoked some cigarillos and watched the action. I did not go out on a boat that day but did the next.

After that, I continued to walk the streets of Old Dhaka. Old Dhaka is, well, the oldest part of the city. The streets are narrow, sometimes not even wide enough for cars. The buildings are in poor repair and the streets are lined with shops, restaurants, small mosques, and tons of food vendors.

Mysterious fried snacks filled with vegetables or meat, sweets, fresh juices, overly sweet tea, fruits, plates of curries and biryani. I ate some things where I was able to discern that they were vegetarian. I assumed I would get some sort of food poisoning not matter how careful I was, so why not go down enjoying the local food? (Amazingly I did not get sick on this trip.)

I walked back to my hotel, getting there after dark.

On the way back I saw something I had not expected. I was on a busy street with sidewalks and there was a man lying down. I hadn’t seen this yet in Dhaka, so it caught my attention. Plus, the man was lying in an uncomfortable position…with his eyes wide open…and not moving. I stopped. Also not moving: his chest. I know what a dead person’s open eyes look like and this was it. No one else was stopping, so I walked to the corner, where there was a group of policemen. I approached them and tried to say what I had seen, but they didn’t speak English. I tried to communicate through miming. I pointed, then leaned back with my arms crossed over my chest. Made a slashing movement in front of my throat…but they didn’t seem to understand. So I carried on. At that point it wasn’t exactly an emergency situation, and I did what I could. It was a little jarring to see death in the middle of a city that feels so alive, but you can’t have life without death. You just don’t often see it.

I had only been in Dhaka a half a day but saw so much. I finished the evening in my hotel’s garden with a cigar, reflecting on all of it.

A few practical comments:

As I discussed in a previous post, I did have to get a visa ahead of time, but there was no other hassle entering the country.

Dhaka is inexpensive. Like, really cheap. You can obviously spend more if you want to go to western-style restaurants and cafes, but just walking around, taking local transport, and eating at casual places or on the street, you would struggle to spend $10.

This is one of those places where you should have cash. I brought a mix of Euros and US dollars and exchanged them for Bangladeshi Taka as needed. I did try some ATMS just to see if they worked. Some did. Some didn’t. You can’t expect places to take cards unless they are more upscale.

I felt completely safe, day and night. It is so busy and there are always people around and they are exceedingly helpful. No one was rude or leering or threatening in any way. Probably the only risk is tripping or stepping into a hole in the sidewalk.

It was really hot and humid. Staying clean was impossible. That said, despite the heat, it felt good. There are so many trees and often a nice breeze, especially near the river.

Most people didn’t speak English but often there would be someone around who would speak it a bit if you really need to communicate.

In case I haven’t made it clear: I thought Dhaka was awesome and was happy to have more days ahead.

Asia Iraq Iraqi Kurdistan/Albania trip 2022

Amazing day trip to Akre and Lalish

On my second full day in Iraqi Kurdistan, I left Erbil for the day with the help of a local guide and driver. I don’t like organized stuff and generally do not like group things, but here and there, a guide for a day (if the guide is good, and preferably if I am not with a group) elevates the whole trip. This was such a day.

I had wanted to visit the town of Akre and the religious site of Lalish. Erbil has tons of appealing day trips that are possible, but I narrowed it down to these places. Akre looked pretty and Lalish, fascinating. It is possible to visit these places from Erbil on your own with shared taxis, but it would be very difficult to visit both places in one day. So, I googled and found a guide: Haval Qaraman. I later found out that he is THE guide in the area, having done it the longest and with the best reputation. Most importantly he was tremendous company.

Haval picked me up in the morning and we started on the drive. The scenery was pleasant, if not beautiful. As we approached the mountains it became more lovely. We passed flocks of sheep and Syrian refugee camps, small shrines and rural areas.

The great thing was that Haval gave me all the information I wanted about Iraqi Kurdistan. He told me about the history, the economy, politics, and about the various wars and invasions and how that affected people like him who live there. He also told me his story about how he grew up in Northern Iraq and how he learned English and set up his tourism business in an area exactly not known for tourism. It is a really good and interesting story, but it is not mine to tell. Suffice it to say that I learned a lot from him and he answered all of my questions about life in Northern Iraq. And he was great company and had a sense of humour that meshed well with mine. Lots of laughs…and learning. Seriously, what else could I want? (No, he is not paying me to say these nice things.)

Akre

We visited the pretty town of Akre. It is nestled in the mountains north of Erbil and has great views over the valley. If you visit during the new year festival in March, it is the place to be, with people climbing the mountains with torches to celebrate.

The town was nice to visit. Small. No tourists that I saw. We walked around the main square and the market. We had tea with locals at a tea shop on the square.

I insisted on taking my picture with the “I [heart] Akre” sign, even though I hate those signs. I would love someone to tell me where they started. There was a time when I never saw them, and now it seems that I can’t visit a city without a tacky “I [heart] ____” sign. I’m shocked Vancouver doesn’t have one yet. That said….it was Valentine’s Day, so what better time to pose with one of these eyesores?

Also in Akre, we visited s shrine of a notable Sufi figure, Sheikh Abdul Aziz Gailani, the son of a founder of an order of Sufism. It was not in the Lonely Planet or the Bradt guides and I would never have found it on my own. Tucked away at the top of a dead-end street, is a building of no note. We left the car and I slipped into a tasteful black Abaya, walked shoeless through glittering gold doors and into a shimmering room of mirrors and colorful Arabic verses, with the casket in the middle. It was very pretty and came with a lesson on the basics of Sufism. Haval assured me it was ok to take photos.

*Sufi Shrine in Akre (that’s me with Haval top left)*

From Akre we journeyed West to Lalish.

Lalish

Lalish is a temple, not a town, and is the holiest site for the people of the Yazidi faith. Not familiar with Yadizism? Neither was I before this trip.

So the Yazidi people practice a religion that is very old, like pre-Zoroastrian old. And it is very specific to people from the region in and around Iraqi Kurdistan. There is some question about to what extent it is just a religion and to what extent it is just an ethnicity. (I am already questioning my use of ‘just.’) Anyway, it is a very niche and ancient religion. Sometimes it is described as an offshoot of Islam, which is totally wrong. It is its own thing and has been persecuted by people of many other faiths for being heathenistic. In short, the Yazidis are monotheistic, but believe that god is in everything, including fire, which has left to some referring to the Yazidis as fire or devil worshippers, which isn’t right either. But they do have some interesting beliefs, like that black snakes are sacred because they saved Noah’s ark from sinking because a black snake plugged a hole. And there is a whole thing about peacocks that is fascinating. Haval told me a lot about the faith and their rituals. It was all so interesting – in fact, I kept exclaiming it – but I don’t want to write all the details of what I learned because I don’t want to deprive someone else of the discovering of learning in the moment, as I did.

One thing I will say is that in the 2010s, the Yazidi people were the victims of a genocide at the hands of ISIS. The details are horrific, and the community is still grappling with the effects. It is certainly worth reading about. It is incredible that it is as awful as it is, and I was totally unaware. One of the greatest lessons history has taught me is that people are continuously awful to one another, and yet, we can also be kind; and the two truths will carry on.

Apparently there has been a Yazidi temple on the site for over 4000 years, though the buildings that are there are not that old. To enter the site you must remove your shoes. Not just to enter the temples, but the whole site. So, plan accordingly if you visit in winter. The site itself is a collection of shrines and holy places. No one really lives there, but there will always be a few key people on site. I was lucky enough to meet the woman who carries out all the baptisms and a holy man who carries out the exorcisms. (They don’t use that word, but it is the same idea, and they have a specific room/building where that takes place.) We met him and had tea with his wife. (No, they had not seen the classic horror film.)

*Me with various Yadizi people at Lalish. The man on my left is an important member of faith and the woman performs baptisms. Maybe that’s why they were allowed to wear shoes and I wasn’t.*

The tombs of the Yazidi are interesting, conical, stone structures that dot the landscape.

Inside one of the buildings, which reached far underground, was a series of also very unusual and interesting holy places. Stone jars of water or oil, bits of colored fabric knotted for wishes and good luck, a stone structure onto which a piece of colored fabric is thrown for good luck, and utter disrespect of you trod on a threshold. Unconnected to the religion, some of these dark, underground rooms had walls covered with ghostly handprints, which made me immediately think of the end of the Blair Witch. A reference understood by no one.

*Yadizi religious buildings. (And me with a symbolic black snake.)*

I loved the visit.

Back to Erbil and a Detour

On the drive back to Erbil, we stopped at a restaurant for a feast of vegetables, bread, soup, and rice (there was meat too, but I don’t partake). It was quite satisfying. Thankfully, I was allowed to eat in the main room with Haval and the other man, and not relegated to the ‘women and family room’. Women are forbidden or discouraged from eating in the main room of restaurants, and there is generally a room at the back, sectioned off for women and their families. The back rooms are fine, but they are often windowless and tucked away. Not appealing.

After lunch, we were on a straight shot for Erbil, but made a stop at a trailer parked on the side of the highway with a little tent out front. The trailer is a coffee house operated by a Syrian refugee. He spends 6 days a week living and selling coffee out of this trailer and one day a week he goes back to the refugee camp to be with his family. Haval told me he has been doing this for about 8 years while he waits to be able to return to Syria. I found that quite moving. What a lonely and frustrating existence, but what an incredible entrepreneurial spirit; to make the best out of a bad situation.

I had Kurdish coffee, which is not coffee at all, but something closer to chicory, but made from roasted terebinth fruits (similar to pistachios?). It was sprinkled with a little chocolate and was excellent.

I was dropped off back at my hotel just as it got dark. It was a thoroughly satisfying day. I felt like a learned so much and experienced and saw things that few do. And none of that would have been possible if I was on my own.

I did pop out that evening for a street falafel and a spin around the square, but then to bed. The next day I had hoped to visit Mosul, but that was not possible, which turned out to be for the best, as the next day was consumed with work. But my final day in Erbil was filled with more city exploration and experience.

Asia Myanmar (Burma)

Saying Goodbye to Yangon

I returned to Yangon from Bagan, my trip nearly at an end. I had one and a half remaining days in Yangon before flying to Hong Kong. I had already seen everything I wanted to see in Yangon, so I figured I would just hang out and relax a little before the very long journey home and harsh transition from airport directly to office. I was happy to be back in Yangon. Bagan was magical and Mandalay was fine, but I really like Yangon. I find it so pleasant just to be there.

I stayed at the Backpacker Bed & Breakfast, which was a nice hostel in the centre. It was exactly what I wanted: Lots of travellers to chat with on a pleasant rooftop and very inexpensive. I met people both leaving and about the enter month long meditation retreats, which only reaffirmed my lack of desire to try such a thing. I met solo travelers and duos of all ages. Mostly women. All really nice. I shared my dorm with three pleasant French girls who spoke very little English but were clean and quiet. All good.

After hanging around for a while I went for a walk through Chinatown. I liked the walk particularly because in Yangon the streets are so enjoyable – full of food vendors, pretty buildings, color, and life – but Chinatown as a destination is sort of underwhelming.

But I did stumble across some good street markets and enjoyed the walk.

I stopped for a bowl of soup from a street vendor. I love the street soup in Myanmar. It is fantastic. I had already ordered soup from street vendors there a number of times, so I felt pretty confident. I knew how and what to order, I knew how it would be served (broth and noodles and spices all separate), and I knew roughly what it should cost (about 70c). I sat there, I smiled at the people sitting next to me, I felt superior to tourists who walked by with the obvious look of curiosity and intimidation on their faces about how to order from these unmarked stalls where English was not spoken (intimidation I had felt a week prior). I loaded my soup up with chili sauce and powder and began to eat. I was slurping up the delicious broth and noodles when I slurped too hard apparently because spicy hot broth forced itself into my nasal passages and out my nose. Suddenly my nose was on fire, my eyes watered uncontrollably and slammed shut. I was blind and my face was on fire. I fumbled for one of the rolls of toilet paper they had on the counter to use for napkins but dropped it and it rolled down the hill. I fumbled for another, but dropped it in my soup, which it promptly absorbed. I finally had to blow my nose and wipe my face in my scarf. I tried be cool, even as my face still burned from my nasal soup ingestion, but, had I been able to see, I’m sure everyone at the booth was snickering at me as I walked away. Once the pain subsided, I did think it was hilarious. I was still hungry though so I went to another small street stall a safe distance away and, successfully (and more humbly), had a whole bowl of incident-free shan noodle soup.

I headed back to the big market near the train station, browsed for a bit and then tried a Bumese cigar (not a cheroot, but an actual cigar). It was black and moist and not bad tasting but full of things that I am not sure were tobacco. It had a weird screaming eagle band on it. I didn’t mind it but didn’t bother to bring any back. I smoked it sitting at the ‘No. Coffee in Myanmar’ stand in the market, which did indeed have great coffee as well as a fan. It was a perfect place to avoid the heat and watch market activities.

After that, a bit more walking, and back to my hostel.

One thing that I think is amazing here, and really speaks to the kindness of people, is that most businesses have water pitchers and vessels outside with a tin cup. The purpose? To provide water to people because it is hot and water is vital. No one should have to pay to drink water or suffer from thirst, so they just provide it. I availed myself of this offering many times and was thankful for it.

Back at the hostel I reconnected with a guy I had met earlier in the day; a young fellow from South Africa traveling solo. We decided to check out a rooftop bar that promised to be sort of a club. It had the appropriate setting, music, lights, pricey cover charge, etc, but there was almost no one there. So we just sat and chatted and I had a cigar. Not the party he was hoping for, but I was totally fine with it, not being that keen on clubs to begin with.

The next day was more walking then I decided to see a movie. There was an American horror movie playing called Prodigy and there was air conditioning, so that was good enough for me. Interestingly, they played the national anthem before the movie started and everyone was required to stand in the tiny (maybe 30 seat) theatre. The movie was decent. The popcorn was appalling.

After my movie, I met up with my South African friend and we went to see the world’s largest Buddha, which, as it turns out is not the world’s largest (that is in Myanmar but not Yangon), but it was really big. We then meandered our way to the Shwedagon Pagoda as my friend wanted to watch the sunset and meditate at the pagoda. We didn’t make it there for the sunset, but we watched that from a pretty park next to a lake and ate ice cream.

When we got to the pagoda, I said my goodbye – I had been before and wasn’t interested in meditating, plus, I had a 1am flight to Hong Kong to pack for. I took a taxi back to the hostel.

Myanmar was pretty great. I liked it more than the other countries I have seen in South East Asia. It just had such an easy, friendly vibe, the travel was hassle free, and it was full of beautiful sights. I would even return. But the moment I had little time to reflect because I was on to a day in Hong Kong.

Asia Myanmar (Burma)

Bagan on Two Wheels

I had spent my first day in Bagan seeing the main temples on a tuk tuk. That was a perfect introduction. I basically saw everything I needed to see, complete with sunrise. Had that been my only day seeing Bagan it would have been fine. But a second day was perfect. For my second day I decided to strike out solo on an ebike.

I knew prior to going to Bagan that ebikes were a common way to see the temples, but I couldn’t find any concrete evidence of what an ebike in Myanmar was. Most people told me it would be a regular bicycle but with a motor that you could turn on to help go up hills. That sounded ok. I ride a bicycle. But they were wrong. This is what an ebike is in Bagan:

It is an electric scooter – like an electric Vespa. It is nothing like a bicycle and everything like a motorcycle or motor scooter. This may not seem like a big deal, but for me it was. I don’t drive. I’ve never tried it. Never had a license. Never experienced control of a motorized vehicle. I’d never used a key to start anything. I was in a wheelchair briefly after a bad accident and even that was manual and not electric. So the idea of controlling a key operated, electric vehicle on two wheels was crazy.

Of course I tried it.

The guy at my hotel spent an agonizing 10 minutes trying to explain to me how to operate it. It was hard to get a handle on the speed and turns, but I got it eventually, and rented a scooter for the day, which cost the equivalent of about $5 Canadian. Helmets not provided.

The scooter was…amazing. It went quite fast; up to 80 km/hour, though I stayed at around half that. The experience was one of the greatest I have had. I felt so free. I went so fast, zipping along the paved road with cars and other vehicles (ok, they were going faster). I could cover so much ground and go wherever I wanted. I felt like I finally understood all of those 1950s rock songs about cars. I had found the open road and it felt like home. I started to fantasize about returning to Canada and getting my motorcycle license, joining a gang, and getting a tough nickname…at that point I nearly wiped out, so I decided to focus on the task at hand.

I went up and down the two main roads, stopping where I liked. Whenever I saw a temple in the distance that I wanted to check out, I simply left the road and bounced along the sand or a rocky path. This allowed me to see a lot of smaller temples, many of which were free of visitors. I also visited a small market and some paths around villages.

I went to one temple cluster and a man there was sweeping, which was, at it turns out, his job. Sweeping sand off of temples that sat in the middle of an expanse of sand. He spoke a little English and showed me a flight of narrow stairs up to the top of one of the temples. I climbed up and sat in the shade of the stupa, smoking a Burmese cheroot.

The man came to join me and we chatted a bit. He asked me about Christmas. His daughter was born on Christmas but he didn’t know much about it. I tried to explain about Santa, which sounds so crazy when you really think about it.

I stopped for lunch at a restaurant that was really just a collection of plastic tables and chairs and a bunch of portable cooking equipment. Great food. Unbelievably inexpensive.

I went back to one of the bigger temples I had seen the day before as it had a bunch of stalls selling crafts and textiles. I bought a scarf and watched a woman with multiple neck-elongating brass rings around her neck weaving fabric.

Eventually I was exhausted and went back to my room for a rest before meeting the Italian man I had met on the boat from Mandalay. He picked my up on his ebike and we went to New Bagan for dinner but only after finding the perfect temple from which to watch the sunset. He knew there was one perfect spot and we drove around asking people until he found it – it was the same one I had stood on the previous morning to watch the sunrise. I suppose there is some balance to that.

I finished the evening back at my hotel, sitting along the Irrawaddy River, enjoying a cigar until I began to doze.

The next morning I caught a super early flight to Yangon and began slowly making my way home.

Asia Myanmar (Burma)

On the Temple Trail in Bagan

Bagan is the reason most people travel to Myanmar and I was no exception. Over 2000 temples dating back to the 11th C dotted over a small area. It is flat, so in any direction the skyline is punctuated with stupas, some glittering and others stone, rising up to the sky. They are everywhere and the area isn’t particularly built up, so it is easy to feel like you are off on your own on, discovering an ancient civilization.

There are two Bagans: Old and New. The Old Bagan is in the archeological zone and the New Bagan is a small city, where most of the hostels, hotels, and commercial stuff is. I decided to stay in Old Bagan because I liked the idea that I was steps away from the wonders I traveled there to see. I will say though that there are only a handful of hotels in Old Bagan, they are a bit expensive (by Myanmar standards), and there is nothing to do in the evening, so as a solo traveler it may not have been the best choice, but my hotel was so lovely that I didn’t mind.

I stayed at the Bagan Thande Hotel, which is really like a collection of cottages on beautiful treed grounds along the river. The room wasn’t special but the setting was. The night I checked in, I sat at the outdoor bar and restaurant and smoked cigars in the dark, while live music was played. Very nice.

But that first night I also had to make plans for the next day to see the temples. One has options for visiting the temples. You can walk to some, but they are spread out so some sort of conveyance is needed. The options are: taxi, tuk tuk, bicycle, ebike, and horse drawn carts. A taxi would be dull. A horse cart would be slow and bumpy. Bikes would be fun, but hot and exhausting. And I was initially nervous about the ebike, so I went with the tuk tuk. It was a good option. I didn’t really have to decide what to see; the driver just took me on a 10 hour trip around to see all of the best temples.

We started at 5:30am so I could climb up one of the temples to see the sun rise. A lot of other people had the same idea, so there was about 20 of us standing in the dark, cameras ready, watching the sky lighten. People are annoying, but I had some excellent 60s lounge exotica music that i listened to on my headphones, which set the mood. (Ultra Lounge Mondo Exotica to be precise. Cheesy and awesome.) I felt like handing out breath mints to the other sunrise chasers. A lot of bad breath first thing in the morning it seems. But that did nothing to dampen the beauty of watching the sky turn orange and seeing the temples revealed.

Wonderfully, as the sun came up, about 20 hot air balloons rose into the air, adding a certain whimsical aspect.

It was wonderful. But it got better.

The temples are incredible. They are big and small, gold, white, ochre, and stone. Each with Buddhas inside and some with elaborate interior paintings. Some were very busy with tourists and people praying. Others I had all to myself. Some were just off the main, paved road, and others were reached only down sandy and rocky paths.

They are all a bit similar, but I found each so enthralling that I didn’t tire of them. I loved the architecture and the decoration, the incense and offerings. They felt sacred, even when hosting dozens of camera happy visitors. (Me included.)

I’ll let the photos speak for themselves.

We also visited a market in New Bagan…or maybe it was in Nyaung U (a small, nearby town). It was a really good market. Handicrafts, vegetables, candy, meat, and fish. I walked every row and walked away with a traditional tattoo device (basically a long, ornate, metal stabby thing) and a marionette head that is so creepy i’m not sure i can keep it in my home.

I walked down one row and came across an area where men and women were sorting the fermented tea leaves that form the basis for many of the delicious salads in Myanmar. They do eat tea here and it is great when mixed with sesame, ginger, garlic. I said to them how much I liked laphet thoke (pronounced la-pay toe), the main tea leaf salad. Or rather I said “Laphet thoke?” And when they smiled and nodded, I gave a thumbs up. My attempt at making a connection. I didn’t exactly learn much Burmese ahead of time. At that moment, a teenage girl eating a plate of tea leaf salad while working, stood up, brought her plate over to me, and popped her spoonful of tea leaves into my mouth. Now that’s hospitality.

More market wandering and then I was back on the temple trail.

My day was supposed to end with me watching the sun set from a temple but I was exhausted. Plus, I mean, I saw the sun rise. A sun set is basically the same thing in reverse, so I returned to my hotel in the gloaming and fell asleep while smoking a cigar in a chair by the river. An amazing day. The next would bring more temples as I set out on my own.

Asia Myanmar (Burma)

Boat to Bagan

As I had already taken the train in Myanmar (from Yangon to Mandalay) I decided to go from Mandalay to Bagan by boat. There are a few options and the prices and vessels are all quite similar. You leave Mandalay at 5:30 am or so and arrive in Bagan about 11 hours later. Many of the trips also involve stopping at a village along the way. I took the Alliance Myanmar boat and that was its itinerary.

The boat ride was pleasant. On the main level were very comfortable seats and air conditioning. On the top level was a bar and covered table seating and an area in the sun with reclining chairs.

It went by quickly. There was the initial excitement of watching the sun rise over the Irrawaddy River, then breakfast.

After that i smoked a cigar and watched dilapidated vessels sail by, as well as small fishing boats and a lot of boats set up to look for gold in the river. People waved at us as we passed.

Near Mandalay and Bagan, the landscape was heavily adorned with stupas and Buddhas. In between it was flat and dry.

The stop at the village was a nice interlude. The village grew peanuts, which they shelled and offered to us raw and boiled. They made hats, which were for sale. Mostly, we were shown around. Everyone was so friendly. I’m guessing (i hope) they get some money from the boat company; we were told not to give money to anyone unless buying something.

We arrived in Bagan, right on schedule, just as the sun was setting. I took a taxi to my hotel. En route I could see the silhouettes of dozens of temples that I would explore the next day.

Asia Myanmar (Burma)

A Picturesque Bridge & Bothersome Pervert

My second day in Mandalay I started by taking a tuk tuk to the U Bein bridge, which is on the outskirts of the city. The drive was pleasant and the bridge picturesque, with a cluster of outside drink vendors and souvenir hawkers at one end.

The bridge is apparently the oldest and the (once?) longest teakwood bridge in the world. That is such an oddly specific category that it failed to impress me. Honestly, one could skip the bridge. It is quite pretty, but not amazing. Still, I am glad I went. The scenery was lovely and the drive was nice.

I had the driver take me back to my hotel after, but stopped along the way when a temple of note popped up roadside and generally snapped some puctures from the tuk tuk.

I went to the Zegyo market, or at least part of it (it is massive) and poked around and walked the streets around the market, which were bustling with commerce.

In the afternoon i did a walking version / variation of a suggested bicycle route in the Lonely Planet. This was a good walk as it took me through some more interesting neighbourhoods had I had seen the previous day in Mandalay. There was a really pretty path along a small river with small houses on one side and people doing laundry or having beers by the river.

The only downside to this walk was one guy who fan ahead of me on a part of the path that had the river on one side and only a high fence on the other. I saw him facing into the trees and I assumed he was peeing, but as I passed, I saw through my peripheral vision that he turned to face me and was masturbating. Moaning and whatnot. I ignored him and walked by. He ran ahead of me and did the same thing. Again, I ignored him. After that second time, he ran up behind me and said “Hey!” I turned around and he was standing there in the middle of the road, dick out, in his hand. Like he thought I hadn’t noticed him before. He took a step towards me and I walked towards him, yelling, “You get the fuck away from me or I’ll cut your fucking throat!” As I said that last bit, I motioned with my thumb across my neck. He obviously got the message and ran away. I carried on with my walk, initially annoyed that this pervert interrupted my stroll and forced me to unleash upon him with with vitriolic death threat (albeit an empty one – I didn’t even have a weapon). But I quickly put it behind me.

I crossed the river and walked up to and along the bank of the Irrawaddy River, to a tallish hotel with a rooftop bar, where I escaped the sun for a while with a cigar and a virgin piña colada.

I took a tuk tuk back to the hotel (it had been a long walk and I had no interest in doing it in reverse).

I spent the evening on the rooftop of my hotel reading and smoking. Ready to get up super early to catch a boat to Bagan.

Asia Myanmar (Burma)

Mandalay day one

Mandalay does not make a great first impression. Stepping out from the train station, it didn’t have the charm of Yangon. The buildings are newer and unattractive. There are a lot of wide, busy roads. The traffic is orderly, but motorcycles are allowed here (unlike Yangon) so it is busier. It just didn’t have charm that I saw.

I decided to walk from the train station to my hotel. Maybe 25 blocks, but it felt longer as the walk was just not that scenic and the blocks were long. I did see the moat and walls around the palace, but they were several lanes of traffic away.

As I got nearer to my hotel, I did pass a street that had a lively market and street side food vendors started appearing, but I still wasn’t that taken with it.

My hotel was decent though. The Hotel Aurora. I picked it because it had a good location and a rooftop restaurant. My room was so nice, with a fluffy bed, excellent shower and loads of free toiletries (all of which are now in my bag). I know those things may seem commonplace, but I usually slum it a bit more, so I was happy. I checked in early and took a moto taxi to the palace.

The Mandaly Palace is a big central palace complex dating to the mid 1800s. It is a fine place to visit, but many of the buildings are identical, so I didn’t feel the need to stay long.

I took a tuk tuk to the base of Mandalay Hill, which is a long climb up 700+ stairs, past and through temples, stupas, etc. It is am exhausting but picturesque journey. Annoyingly you have to take shoes and socks off a lot on the climb as you pass through sacred sites (that’s what i get for wearing boots), but it is all quite pleasant aside from my boot unlacing and scrambling over sun-scorched tiles.

The top gives views out over the city.

When finished, I took an outdoor elevator down about four floors to a parking lot where my tuk tuk was waiting.

I had him drop me off back at the palace and I walked from there.

Here is what I realized about Mandalay on the first day: 1) things are really spread out, so walking, while possible, is a long and hot business; 2) moto, tuk tuk, bicycle, and car taxis are everywhere but you have to haggle to get good price; 3) there are an ASTONISHING about of pagodas, temples, and stupas here. They are everywhere. Imagine that every cafe in Seattle or Vancouver was replaced with a gilded, ornate temple. It’s a little overwhelming.

From the palace i walked down a quieter street and happened upon a cafe by a marionette theatre, where I bought a ticket for the evening performance. I also met the puppet master, a thin and old-looking 89 year old man. Any references to the 1980s horror classic were lost in translation.

I had lunch at a sidewalk stand (another glorious bowl of noodle soup for less than $1), walked some more, and spent the evening prior to the puppets on the rooftop of my hotel chatting with a Dutch couple traveling south east Asia for six months.

I took a tuk tuk to the theatre. The show was good. It had a band playing traditional music and they did various marionette scenes of dance and animal antics.

After the show I did not want to walk the ~20 blocks back to the hotel so I took a “taxi”. Most of the other audience members had pre-arranged their transport so the cars and tuk tuks out front were taken. But there was another option: A man with a rickety bicycle to which was attached a side car. He said he would charge 2000 kyat. (That’s a little less than $2 cdn.) Done. I hopped into side car and off we went. Slowly. The man riding the bike was old. He may have been as young as mid-60s, but he looked about 80. But he peddled me all the way to my hotel through traffic. I must admit to feeling a little uncomfortable having not only a human being, but a senior citizen, cycle me home. The longer we rode, the higher grew the tip I felt obliged to pay, until, when he dropped me off, it had reached 5000 kyat. I felt he deserved it and it absolved me of my awkwardness.

The rickshaw man who ferried me home from the theatre

And that was day one in Mandalay. I went to bed with no idea of my plans for the next day.

Asia Myanmar (Burma)

Yangon: Arriving in Myanmar

I’ve been thinking about going to Myanmar for a number of years. The first time I looked into going they still didn’t have ATMs and almost no wifi. Things have changed and I am glad that I came here when I did because I can see it is going to get more developed and more touristy, like its South East Asian neighbours. So far (as I write this I have been here 4 days) I love it here. Interesting and beautiful, so far it does not seem as hectic as parts of Vietnam or as poor as parts of Cambodia. And it feels different. From the thanaka with which so many men and women decorate their faces to the wearing of the longyi to the eating of tea leaf salads, Myanmar seems to have its own feel. Again, these are my first impressions after a short time.

But then again, my first impressions may be mistaken. See my attempt to buy ice cream, below.

I arrived in Yangon (formerly Rangoon) via a long flight from Vancouver to Hong Kong. I had gotten an e-visa ahead of time, so i was through immigration in 5 minutes with no questions. Taxis were plentiful and their prices fair (i didn’t even bother to haggle). It was after midnight as we drove through the streets to my hotel: the Chan Myae Guest House.

I was quite happy with my lodgings, even though it was a sharp 8 floor climb to my room. Simple, but clean and with an excellent location. I was able to walk everywhere. And walk I did for my first day in Yangon. The centre is a delight for strolling with faded and mossy colonial buildings, strings of laundry, and endless street side food vendors.

I took a lot of pictures.

The food vendors are wonderful. I haven’t yet had a restaurant meal here. Tables of women mixing up noodle dishes, soups, salads, fried things, curries, yogurt drinks, tea, and juice stalls. Each one seems to have a specialty and everything looks delicious.

I have had really good luck with the soups. They will combine the ingredients as you direct into your bowl and you can just point at what you want. Then, if they see you are low on broth or noodles or onion or whatever, as you are eating, they will offer top ups. Nothing costs more than $1 (cdn). Plus, i have been going to the ones where the monks are eating, so I can just point at their vegetarian dishes and order that.

I have had one odd culinary experience. It was scorching hot and i was on foot and i thought, “Ice cream. Ice cream would revive me.” So I went to a corner store and bought a vanilla ice cream. I unwrapped it and took a bite and very quickly realized that my ice cream was not vanilla, but DURIAN. I cannot express how shocking it is to expect sweet and creamy vanilla and get instead the intense oniony putrescence of durian.

So I walked and I ate. I went in search of coffee, which was a bit of a mission. This is tea country. There are a few “proper” cafés but they are certainly not in abundance. Twice I aksed for coffee and received some sort of international delights french vanilla bullshit. And twice I flet guilty for thinking that it actually tasted pretty good. I’ll have to turn in my coffee snob card upon return to the Pacific Northwest.

I visited the Sule Pagoda, in all of its glittering splendour. It was magnificent, thought i can now say that gold stupas are ubiquitous here. Nevertheless this was Myanmar stupa no.1 for me, so it was special.

I toured around more on foot, past buildings of note. One street (I forget which one) had rows of book stalls and book shops, so I picked up something for the road.

In the afternoon, before taking on my next pagoda complex, I settled in at the bar at the classically colonial Strand Hotel, which was gorgeous and, most importantly, cigar friendly. Thankfully, it was otherwise empty, so i snuck a selfie or two.

My energies restored, I walked to the Shwedagon Pagoda complex. It wasn’t far from where I was but the 37 degree heat made it seem farther. By the time I arrived, I was hot and tired. I was not too tired, however, to have a secret race again a blonde woman across the street from me also walking to the pagoda. I won. Heat or not, I was still able to appreciate the beauty, but even my eyeballs felt burnt as I took in countless, gleaming gold and white stupas. There were so many people there but many appeared to be locals or visitors from nearby. Nothing I saw in Yangon was overrun with, well, people like me. A few backpackers here and there. The odd group of seniors, but they were few. It was nice.

Perhaps because there are not tons of tourists here, local people are not in the habit of hassling them. No one yells out to get a massage or follows you down the street trying to sell you stuff. Everyone is just pleasant. It isn’t too crowded – even the traffic is organized. Surprisingly for a former British colony, they drive on the right hand side of the street, but the steering wheels are on the right. Motorcycles are banned in Yangon, which may be why the traffic is not crazy.

Somehow I had done all of that by 6:00 pm and on 2 hours sleep. I went back to my room with plans of going out again in the evening, but promptly crashed. It was a great first day in Myanmar.

Wandering North

Tag: temple

Impressive Singapore: first impressions

A teensy bit about Singapore

First Impressions

Day one

Discovering Dhaka, Bangladesh

Amazing day trip to Akre and Lalish

Akre

Lalish

Back to Erbil and a Detour

Saying Goodbye to Yangon

Bagan on Two Wheels

On the Temple Trail in Bagan

Boat to Bagan

A Picturesque Bridge & Bothersome Pervert

Mandalay day one

Yangon: Arriving in Myanmar