Aaah, the luxury of neither plans nor schedule. We intend to sleep in, but I’m up at 6:20ish. In fact, I was up in the night, smelling smoke. Wondering what I could haul with me if the hotel actually was on fire. No such happening, but definitely strong acrid smoke smell, enough to make my eyes burn. We conclude later that there is much trash and landfill burned during the wee hours of the morning, and wee were lucky enough to be in the path of the drifting smoke. Up, I decide to try and contact meine kinder. Ichat to Matty out on the balcony and I am overjoyed at the upside benefits of technology. So amazing. I am chattering away, suddenly aware that I am one of those not-quiet-in-the-morning guests, and this is confirmed shortly by our next-door neighbors pounding on our common wall.
I head inside and next up is Miss Tay, who is enjoying a Sunday night cocktail with a friend. So nice to see her smile and her faces, and agree to chat again in about a week. Start to get going, Valerie’s up and we’re putting together some laundry for the hotel (roughing it? why?) and running through some pictures for deleting and creating more chip space. Finally, we’re ready to head down for breakfast (had to select from a menu last night for today. We both selected the Myanmar special) and see what the coffee situation might be. Coffee is pretty good – breakfast is spectacularly good (again, pics to follow. small chance of posting on Saturday, most likely after I return on March 11). We start with a plate of fresh fruit (papaya and watermelon) and a basket of freshly baked pastries, followed by a bowl of local noodles topped with a peanut-ty sauce and slices of hard boiled egg (and a bowl with sliced shallots, fresh cilantro, crushed red peppers and lime wedges to add as desired). Side of clear broth soup that is too peppery for me, and then she rolls out with a plate with fried squash and combo white and black sticky rice. And in no time, Valerie and I are “rolling” out as well. Oh my! Good thing there’s exercise planned for the day. The outdoor restaurant deck:
We head back to the room, apply sunlotion and sports bras, and wee walk to the end of the block to rent bikes (1,500 kyot for the day, which is about $1.78).
Off we go, goods in baskets and bumping down the uneven, and occasionally rocky, road.
Straight through town, over the bridge and out past houses and fields for about 30 minutes, when it’s time to turn left. Another 20ish minutes and a few photo stops
we park at the market (oh yes, another one). Being the jaded market voyeurs that we have come to be, we taste no food, but do pick up a few trinkets (my last purchase ONLY because she needed my lucky money!), finally get a picture of the ever-present buffalo cart:
and continue down the road. Mother Nature calling after about 15 more minutes, so we pull into a safe-looking restaurant (large tour bus parked nearby), have an avocado-lime juice (you really can’t believe how excellent it is until you taste it)
and enjoy the back and forth of carts, bicycles, and villagers transporting whatever:
we negotiate for a boat to take us and our bikes across the lake.
Down the path and along the canal until we arrive at our boat and load up.
I cannot accurately describe the joy of our singing hearts as we zip along in our little boat among the reeds, houses on stilts,
ubiquitous fisherman and other lake wildlife:
and locals in the midst of various domestic chores.
If you’d like to enjoy a short movie clip of our experience for yourself, then click on:
The canal opens up into the lake and we are almost laughing at the idea we (meaning me) ever considered not climbing in a boat one more time. There is just something ingrained to deeply into human DNA – our connection to the great waters from which we all escaped so long ago, but to which we continually return.
We reach the long-ass dock on the other side, walk our bikes back to dry land, and we are off again like a primitive Tour de Mayanmar, passing other tourist-cyclists heading our way or the other way, enjoying the same pastime. We turn left and head on for about 40 minutes, stopping for water breaks or so Ms. V can check out the map. We pass the local winery, which a Parisian cyclist informs us is excellent. High praise from such a source! But we do not stop. Butt bones are calling us forward and forward toward their relief. We hook a left, and ride a ways past pagodas and homes, and after a bit, jog over to the right and onto the main drag, and glide into the bike rental arena. While Val goes to pay, I scoop up 3 round fritter/hush puppy looking things that are filled with peppers. The woman warns me that they are spicy, but my response to her is “good!” And indeed they are, spiciness waxing to an enjoyable zing before receding once again, the mouth started to ask for more. We (meaning Valerie) retrieve my Myanmar tour book from the room, and we head down a block for a local, home-cooked meal, while checking the map to see where we might procure a massage. Enough food? Oh, no, there’s still beef, chicken and fish curry to be be delivered!
After lunch, we walk past our hotel, hang a left, and then a right, ending up at Win Nyunt traditional Burmese massage -7,000 kyot per hour (approximately $7.75). We reserve two for 6 pm, then back to the hotel for showers and rest hour.
Sleeping on one side of the room, and blogging on the other. With so much time, we still manage to arrive a bit late. But no worries, it’s a casual local (8th generation) family business. Sorry to have no photos to show the unusual setup or the unusual style that comprises traditional Burmese massage, which I now hear is very similar to Thai. You walk into a garage sized door, and all along one wall, behind a “curtain” of blankets were raised wooden pallets, each covered with clean sheets, a blanket and one person laying on his or her back. Clothes remain on and each person has his/her own masseuse. They first prop up your right leg,resting in their lap (one masseuse, but I’m speaking about either the masseuse or masseur) and start running both hands up and down the leg, first gently squeezing in a gentle, but persistent pattern that moves methodically to cover each of the major muscle groups. After both legs are done, they position both legs just so spread apart, place a folded blanket on top of the, and then hold on to a beam overhead in the ceiling and walk up and down your leg, with their feet places just so, applying pressure and releasing. Holding on to the bean allows them to not use all of their weight – just what seems appropriate. At one point, the foot is place at an angle right in the hip/lymph area and he/she just stands with that pressure on the area for about a full minute. When they remove the foot, all the blood that had left the area comes rushing in and the area feels hot immediately. Really cool. Other interesting and novel techniques in which they use their body to stretch mine, but not going to describe every detail. I breathe into the slightly uncomfortable positions, and listen to the cute french man next to me translating conversation to his wife. This is what I’m traveling for! Just being in it. People coming and going to ask for massages in all accents and languages, hearing how he’s training his nephew just as his grandmother trained him, the changes in Myanmar just in the past few years, the laughter of the giver and receiver of healing.
When we depart, Unfortunately Valerie’s upset stomach that’s been getting worse all afternoon finally erupts on the dirt road. She thinks it’s because the massage has released all toxins and her body wants to finish the job. The woman from the massage house comes out, and takes V by the hand, and rubs some oil all over her belly, as well as giving her some to take home. Valerie comments how her stomach feels much calmer after the little rub-down. We walk the two blocks to the room, and Valerie crawls immediately into bed, still feeling a bit better. I pack up, realizing I have left my umbrella somewhere during the day (used mainly for shade), but I can go on, rest assured. Lights out early at 9 for a busy day of travel tomorrow.