The Inle Lake is one of
Burma's big two tourist spots, and with good reason: it's a beautiful
lake with plenty of well-placed human additions which make it a bit
of a picture-perfect scene in multiple places. So off I headed,
joining the hordes, by overnight bus.
I'm not a fan of
overnight buses at the best of times, but in this country they save a
night's accommodation (which makes a big difference), and I'd been
told it would be a VIP bus – so one with big seats, and that I
could actually sleep on.
So when a bus stopped
outside, I took a look at my Burmese ticket and tried to work out if
the company was the same from the Burmese script.
Yes, it's the same
company.
But this can't be my
bus – it's just a local bus that I'd happily be squeezed into for a
3 hour day trip, but not for 12 hours overnight.
“Sir, this is your
bus.”
There wasn't even
enough space for my bag in the hold.
Or any space for me
inside. I was squashed in between a seat, a window, a Buddhist monk
with his seat reclined (and you couldn't tell them to put it up, even
if I was to revoke my British citizenship again) and a rather large
Burmese girl.
Great.
This wouldn't have been
so bad if I hadn't have paid $17 for the privilege.
Charge me Western prices and promise me Western quality, and you better deliver me Western quality.
At least I wasn't on
the seat that folded into the aisle this time.
And the food at the
rest stop tasted of burning too. Seems to be a thing in this country.
So I attempted to get
some sleep while the same Burmese sitcom that they always play on
these buses was played at ear-splitting volume, and the driver and
conductor shouted to each other rather than talking like normal human
beings would.
At least there was no
aircon to be set to Arctic, eh?
And the girl next to me
decided that it was a good idea to wake me at midnight to inform me
that we were in the new capital, Naypyitaw. This is something that
might interest me in the day, but at midnight, I'm trying to sleep
and quite frankly I just don't care.
She seemed to get the
idea. Poor girl.
Then we pulled in at
some silly hour in the morning and had to take a shared taxi to
Nyaungshwe, the town with the budget accommodation by the Lake.
Well, I say “budget”
accommodation. The cheapest was $18. Who's going to open a budget
hotel when you've got to jump through this many loopholes?
Oh, and we passed the
government checkpoint at 6:10am. It opened at 6am. And despite the
fact that hotels had dramatically increased in price, they still
thought it was a good idea to increase the price from $5 to $10 –
because us rich white people need soaking even more apparently.
You know something? I
have a budget. If you overcharge me for hotels and entry, then I'm
not going to spend so much on other things. That's less money into
the pockets of honest, ordinary people. I might not even come. That's
less money in everyones' pockets.
I joined three Italians
who I met on the bus, Francesco, Sara and Elisa, for breakfast in the
overpriced hotel; at least they included that in the fairly
extortionate room tariff. Anyone who can deal with my rubbish sense
of humour is a legend in my book.
And the night bus to
Bagan did indeed exist. Saving a night's accommodation here was
always going to be a good thing, even if night buses are a pain to
sleep on.
So I cheered myself up
with some food – and Shan food really is the best Burmese fare, as
I was told before I arrived. Doesn't taste of burning, this stuff.
As always happens, it
was mid-afternoon before we decided to do anything – and so we
grabbed some bikes with the intention of cycling across to the lake.
Plenty of photo stops
required, of course. Even had a basket for my camera.
This is the Burma that Rambo taught me to know and love |
The rest gave up with
20 minutes or so to go, so I went pedal to the metal and got to the
edge of the lake, only to be accosted by a boatsman.
Of course.
And it wasn't really
the lake at all. Just an inlet that led to the lake. He wanted about
a third of the day charter rate for a 30 minute trip so I just
overpaid for orange juice instead.
Proper local village
though – and everyone was very interested in Mr. White Man.
Especially the kids.
They're amusing.
Eventually I took the
road back, which was a lot hillier than I'd remembered on the way
there.
I ended up chasing the
sunset – riding away from the hill that the sun was setting behind,
stopping at every photo opportunity of course.
Which meant that
chasing the sunset became more and more difficult by the photo.
I thought Burma was
always a bit of a hot, humid country too – but night-time here
challenged that view quite thoroughly. It was cold. Really cold. So I
went inside and watched Burma play Thailand in the SEA Games instead
– but I should have just sat outside and watched the grass grow
instead. Half-time seemed like an acceptable opportunity to do a
runner to a restaurant nearby called Wa Toat – where we were their
first customers of the day.
Really good food too.
It's not easy doing business here!
As for the $18 room –
I could get wifi in my room, but not on my bed. This disappointed me.
My first world problems always disappoint me, after all.
And the cold weather
comment also applied to the boat trip: I could have done with a
jacket on that thing. And one of those Burmese hats. And some
suncream might have been a good idea.
The boat trip's fun for
a little bit, but after 8 hours being sat there gets old rather
quickly. As do the stops at the same commissioned shops; the routine
of pretending to look interested, then leaving without buying any of
the overpriced stuff inside might come in handy next time I'm in
India.
They didn't seem to mind though. It keeps the boat trip costs down though – and it's always amusing seeing the same people in several consecutive shops going through the exact same routine.
Oh, and local fishermen
apparently row with their leg – but the “look around, see if
tourist is looking, row with leg, see that they're not looking any
more, row with arms” thing was mildly amusing.
Makes a nice photo, I
suppose.
And they even have
houses on stilts. Anywhere with houses on stilts is going to be
pretty cool – even if your attempts to go and get some better
photos just results in nearly falling into the lake, and getting
laughed at by your boatsman, and indeed anyone else in the vicinity.
Oh, and whoever worked
out that submerging bamboo across the channels acts as speed bumps is
a genius. Fair play.
Because this doesn't slow the boat down enough |
Having stopped at the
requisite shops (sorry, “workshops”), we were dropped at Indein
and told to have a wander in that general direction. Which turned
into getting lost in some sort of tourist trap market which was
probably the most pushy place I'd found in this country.
Judging by the quality
of the haggling, I'm not surprised they try to pull a fast one
sometimes. One Chinese tourist amused me by just shouting “Less,
less! No, less!” at some bemused seller who clearly couldn't care
less.
The pagodas at Indein
are best explained by a photo:
Did I mention that this country has lots of gold stuff? |
Basically, imagine a
giant board of nails, but the nails are pagodas. And golden.
And now, stop laughing
at the poor quality of my metaphors.
There are real floating
villages in Inle too. Where people live and stuff.
There's even a high
street. Unfortunately, it's just got tourist restaurants and cigar
shops on (what a great combination), but I still thought the entire
concept was pretty cool.
And after 8 hours I was
pretty sunburnt, and had to take an overnight bus to Bagan at 7pm. I
thought it might be a good idea to book accommodation there – and
this being the other stop on the tourist circuit, the cheapest was
15$. At a place that the Lonely Planet last year said would cost 5$.
Might have been a good idea out there |
I've ranted about hotel
prices enough already. Less about that now. More about that....well,
it won't take long, will it?
But yes, Inle. Nice,
but not the heavenly wonderland that some people make it out to be.
Oh, and just take a
half day boat trip. And see the sunrise in that. It's for the best.
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