Bago
Now for one of the more outlandish stories I have. I’m telling this over a year late though so apologies. Traveling took a lot out of me and it was incredibly hard to keep up my writing.
I arrived by bus. One that had several stops and was an incredibly hard thing to manage with the language barrier. When I asked the taxi drivers there where Bago was, they said an hour away. I did it anyway. We got lost. Repeatedly. I yelled at the taxi driver as he asked for directions. At the end I realized I didn’t have much cash on hand left, although certainly enough to have survived. I argued for a bit then finally made it to the hotel. They had to call in a translator who I’m sure ran a local taxi syndicate and may have been part of the mob. Either way he was immensely helpful. I ate at two little cafes that the man recommended (I wonder if he owns them or gets a cut?)
I’m not sure what type of city this is. It clearly isn’t a tourist location. It feels like an industrial and poor city but definitely cleaner than Yangon, kind of like a run down and much smaller long beach neighborhood.
Why visit? Well I’d love to say just to experience real local life, which is partly true. However, this is acting as my stopping point to see Mawlamyine Rock. A giant boulder nearly on the edge of a precipice covered in gold after years of donations. It is at the giant Kyaiktiyo Pagoda which is at the top of a mountain. The climb is so steep and treacherous; you must take a giant truck up with several other passengers. It was misty and visibility was as clear as a glass of milk. The fog was thick as we crept further up the mountain. They let us out and we entered a road of stores which I bypassed. Young and old construction workers walked past carrying steel beams to and fro, also barefoot, up the stairs and down the white tile. I can only imagine that on a sunny day the tiles glimmer like a gift from the Buddha.
The decor at the temple is unimpressive yet the size and remoteness is amplified in the veil of shadows, pardon my D&D reference – I just finished watching Stranger Things.
After my time I came down, with the help of a Japanese man I met who paid my fare down since I didn’t have any left on me. It literally cost like 10 cents…smh.
My driver had waited for a few hours and was ready to drop me off.
Let me tell you this part of the story. Before I left the mob guy picked me up and brought me to one of his driver, a “safe driver”, he was. He stayed within the speed limit, and used an elaborate set of signal, light, horn combinations with oncoming traffic to navigate passing on the narrow highways in the rain. He would be very good at video games if he was a youth in a first world country, alas he was roughly 40 and spoke no English, so I couldn’t get his take on things.
I paid $75 for most of his day, to pick me up, drive me to the rock, wait, and drive me back. Don’t think I wasn’t afraid that he’d leave. However, the locals seem to be very trustworthy when you are engaged with them legitimately.
After returning I went to dinner, watched some shitty TV, and went to bed. I left for Yangon the next day. I arrived at the train station early and had time to browse around a market. I’m tempted to say “farmer’s market” but everything is that style in asia.
The train station was run down, and I bought a ticket out of the office from a guy counting cash. They sold me a luxury ticket for a few bucks. While I waited I was surrounded by what appeared to be many homeless people and starving dogs. I met a little kid who had bought a baby chick and had it kept in a plastic bag. I was unsure if it was a pet or he would raise it to be dinner. I assumed both.
The trains were old. Remains of the British infrastructure. Long due for repairs. Apparently it is not uncommon for them to derail and for you to wait until they are fixed. Happily this did not happen, and I received a nice, bumpy ride through the countryside, with stunning nature and village watching opportunities on the way back to Yangon.
I waited for Kamran to return from the vet so I went to a professional soccer game. They let me bring my whole bag in and it cost me nearly nothing. Figures, the game was high school caliber, but the stadium was pretty decently sized. Maybe they get bigger crowds for different events or teams.
Kamran and I got dinner and went to get a foot massage, a thing you don’t tell your neighbors, too risqué. It was great, they also massage your legs, back, neck and give you hot tea. I also went the next morning for lack of something to do before my flight home. I was literally walking around with angelic feet in shit covered shoes. A perfect dichotomy for me to leave with.
