The Bagan Archaeological Zone is a flat plain along the Ayeyarwady River in West-Central Myanmar. Approximately 4,000 pagodas punctuate the 100 square kilometer area of Old Bagan. Everywhere one looks there are pagodas, stupas, and zedis. The structures range from towering and famous, to toppled and forgotten. My favorite sites are the Gu-Style hollow temples, of which more later.
Bagan, formerly Pagan, was the capital of the Pagan Kingdom from the 9th to the 13th centuries CE. These days, Old Bagan is a UNESCO World Heritage Site, a designation that attracts cultural tourists from all over the world. Bagan is blessed and cursed with the fame of being an Important Destination.
The folks that visit Old Bagan seem to fall into four groups. First, there are the Myanmar folks who are mostly here on various pilgrimages. Old Bagan may be an archeological site to tourists, but it is still very much a part of Myanmar Buddhism.
The second group are the well-heeled Culture-Tourists who can afford to stay at the resorts in Old Bagan. They are the same folks that rock-star into Luang Prabang, or Siam Reap: Fly in, see the good stuff, fly out. And yes, I know my snobby side is showing. What can I say? I Yam What I Yam.
The rest of us are the more-or-less independent travelers and those on bus tours. We hang out in the cheaper digs of Nyaung U or New Bagan.
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| Shwezigon Pagoda |
Many of the temples in Old Bagan contain statues of the Buddha, and these are still venerated by local folks coming to make merit. This area is very much an active religious site. One of the most important pagodas was only a short walk from our digs in Nyaung U. It was also the reason that all the guesthouses were booked. The pilgrims were in town.
Shwezigon Pagoda is not a ruined old stack of stones. This pagoda was completed circa 1100 CE, and has been in use more or less ever since. It was very much in use as we walked the long entrance passage that led to the pagoda. The lunar cycle plays an important role in Buddhist rituals, and this week's full-moon had brought pilgrims from far and wide.
Bare feet met marble and stone as thousands of good pilgrims walked around the main stupa. All sorts of folks were making merit. There were a great many local Myanmar folks, but there were also pilgrims from other lands. I spotted grey-robed Buddhist monks, whom I believe were from Korea. Most of the camera wielding tourists were Asian folks, with the merest smattering of Westerners.
The mood was festive at Shwezigon Pagoda. Folks were having a good time. Laughing kids ran around chasing each other, and smiling folks posing for photos. There was even a cadre of young men and women running a promotion for a brand of energy drink. Jacked-up on their own product, they were handing out cans of energy drink as fast as they could get them unpacked. It struck me as one of the great anomalies that are so common in SE Asia: Energy drinks for pilgrims, garish LED halos over centuries-old Buddhas. So it goes.
Here is a link to a video of the scene at the pagoda, which is pretty fun:
Party Pilgrims at the Pagoda, Nyaung U, Myanma
The Bagan Plain, where one is never out of sight of a pagoda. Three ruined chedi and a Gu-Style temple hover above the sultry green.
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| Many, many Buddhas |
It is a long walk from Nyaung U to Old Bagan, so we opted for a Tuk-tuk. It's a funny thing about Tuk-tuks. These three-wheeled transports seem to be a sort of cultural marker for a region. The Bangkok guys favor decals featuring Al Pacino as Scarface. The Vientiane Tuk-tuk drivers, the most piratical of all, lean towards Sylvester Stallone and Cobra. The Myanmar Tuk-tuks, by contrast, are clean and neat, devoid of macho stickers, and the drivers are friendly and reasonably fair.
Yes, great, and what the hell is a Tuk-tuk?
This is a Tuk-tuk. It's powered by a small motorcycle engine that goes Tuk-tuk-tuk-tuk-tuk....
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| The Mighty Ayeyarwady River |
Old Bagan is a maze of temples, pagodas, and Buddha images scattered across a few square kilometers, all enclosed within the ruins of the old city walls. Outside the tumbled walls, the Bagan Archeological Zone stretches out into the distance. Today, our walkabout was centered on the area within the walls. The walkabout became something of a mantra: Temple -- Shoes Off -- Buddha Statue -- Dirty Feet -- Shoes On -- Walk Down Jungle Path -- Temple.
Which is not to say that this isn't interesting and worth doing, but writing about it does present some problems. After the lively scene at Shwezigon Pagoda, Old Bagan left me a little under-awed. So, shifting gears, we threaded our way between two exclusive resorts, and descended a red earth path to the mighty Ayeyarwady River.
This is the Big River in a land of rivers. The Ayeyarwady (Irrawaddy by its colonial name) begins in the Himalayas and ends in the Andaman Sea. It is a big, brown, Mississippi of a river. Centuries ago this was the main transport link to the city of Mandalay. The river remains a important transportation route for goods and people.
I was happy to take a break from temples and tourists. We climbed around on the silty banks of the river, exploring this and that. Long, narrow boats were tied up along the bank, of similar style to the boats that work the Mighty Mekong. There were a few posh pleasure craft as well, the riverboat cruisers that bring the fancy folks to the fancy resorts just up the hill.
It was the weekend, a full moon, and a big day for locals to visit the temples. The ferry jetty was a busy place, with long-tail boats coming and going. The jetty itself is in reality just the river bank. Set back from the bank, steep stairways climb the hill to the flats above. The whole place was crammed with vendors, food stalls, and local families. An earthen road ran in from Bagan to the top of the stairs, then circled back on itself and ran back out. The road was a slow-moving pulse of tiny delivery vans, tractors hauling trailers, taxis, Tuk-tuks, and horse carts. Busy, busy, busy, as the Bokononists would say.
We slipped out of the mayhem and into a smaller lane of shops and curry huts. A Myanmar Grandma motioned us into her joint, got us seated, and told us we were having curry. Curry: it's what's for lunch. Once all the many dishes were on the table, Grandma and her granddaughter joined us at the table. The curry was good, although it was best not to examine the kitchen area with too sharp an eye.
The array of side-dishes included the odd bean-paste dishes that central Myanmar is known for. There are several strange, jiggly varieties, and they are lot more appetizing than they appear. Folks from other parts of Myanmar refer to the natives of this region as the Bean-Eaters.
The stroll along the river and the craziness of the holiday crowd had me ready for more walkabout. We ambled away from the river and back into Old Bagan. A few more temples lay between us and the main road, where we could find a Tuk-tuk. One way or another, more pagodas were being added to our itinerary.
So here, then, is the obligatory big temple photo and description. I present this as evidence that we fulfilled our Bagan tourist obligations, at least for today.
This is the Thatbyinnyu temple, built circa mid-12th century by King Alaungsithu. It is an historic and massive temple, with Buddha statutes and whatnot. But more importantly, if one combines the name of the temple with the name of the king, one gets a devilishly difficult drinking game:
"Repeat after me: That-Binn-You -- Ah-Long-sith-U! Hahahahaha, you screwed it up, take a shot."
Yeah, and it's all downhill from there.
Truth be told, my favorite temples were the small, satellite pagodas, of which there were many. These are the shorter, less imposing, less famous temples. They are largely ignored, so they make for lovely wandering. There are no tourists, pilgrim or otherwise, no vendors, and no queues of buses.
When enough was enough, we hopped a friendly Tuk-tuk back to Nyaung U. I am forced to admit that I am getting soft. Squared off with a Bangkok, or worse, Pnom Penh Tuk-tuk driver, I will bargain like a old auntie in a street market. The Myanmar drivers have messed with me. First, they are smiley, and secondly, they start the pricing too low. I would certainly not drive them as far as they are driving me for the money offered. So I bargain enough to save face and off we go.
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| Restaurant Road... |
Back in busy little Nyaung U, we picked up the threads of a mystery that had us puzzled: Where were the Farrang? Our guesthouse was on the river-side of the main road, an area mostly devoted to local folks. We certainly saw Farrang amongst the temples of Old Bagan, but where did they hide out when they were back in town?
The mystery was solved, indirectly, by My One informing me that tonight's dinner would most definitely not be curry. She looked up a few places online, and off we went. That is how we discovered Restaurant Road and Farrang-Town.
On the far side of Nyaung U's main drag, there is a flat bottom land divided by rutted lanes. It looks very much like a frontier town. There are guesthouses scattered along the lanes, as well as all the sundry businesses that cater to travelers. Cutting through the center of Farrang-Town is a busy, dusty road. Whatever the real name of the pot-holed street, even the locals call it Restaurant Road. Scooters and Tuk-tuks zip up and down, raising clouds of dust. Open-air restaurants and bars line both sides of it. Indian food, Italian food, burgers, pizza; it is all here. We had a lovely dinner at a cute café leaning hard towards the hipster-organic end of the spectrum. Sure, it was twice the price of a local meal, but it was a nice change, and the food was good.
When we scuttled back across the main road, it was as if a lock snicked closed behind us. Farrang-Town was on one side, our digs were on another. We dodged the traffic, threading our way to the mouth of a narrow, muddy alley. The same two old guys are always sitting there, so our turn is easy to spot. We give them a smiley Ming-gah-la-Bah and head up the alley. It is really dark, so one has to pay attention to the big puddles. It also pays to keep an eye out for scooters with no headlights coasting down the hill. Keep straight on past the huge pig, uphill to the big tree, and turn left onto the little lane. Voilà, you are home!
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