A haphazard chronicle of my inevitable misadventures during a year in Vietnam and points east.

p.s. I'll be pitifully grateful if you send me email during my exile: TravelerKaty@hotmail.com

October 2002 November 2002 December 2002 January 2003 February 2003 March 2003 April 2003 May 2003 June 2003 July 2003 August 2003 September 2003 October 2003 November 2003 February 2006 March 2006 May 2006

 
Kalaw, Myanmar

It poured down rain that night. Normally this wouldn't have been a problem. It is to be expected during the rainy season, after all. However, my position at that point was a bit more precarious than usual, sitting in a village house on a mountain 8 miles from the gloriously paved streets of Kalaw. In other words, 8 miles of slippery, muddy track before reaching a hot shower. My performance thus far that morning did not bode well for a pratfall-free day -- I slipped on the mud steps to the outhouse during my first foray out of the house. Aaurgh. I really hoped for good weather during that trek.

The first day of the 2-day trek was quite nice, as a matter of fact. We set off at 8:15, wandering up and down the mountains on an excellent (read: dry) trail with great views. Of course, being from the Pacific Northwest I'm aware that great trail views often come at a price. In the northwest it's clearcutting that gives you wide open vistas, in Myanmar the view-concealing foliage has been replaced with agriculture. The fields and farms are scenic as well, of course, certainly moreso than your average clearcut. The Kalaw region being cooler and considerably more mountainous than the Ayerayewaddy Delta lowlands to the south, rice is comparatively rare there, and only grows in the dry variety. Steep fields of tea and corn abound along with vegetables and fruit trees.

One thing they don't have much of up there is handy logging roads. I watched a succession of Palao villagers walk by on a narrow trail carrying bundles of teak boards and wide planks on their heads (women) or shoulders (men). We did follow a rutted, muddy dirt road for a time and saw just one vehicle -- an ox-driven cart carrying heavy bags of rice.

We visited four villages in total, three Palaung and one, the one we stayed in, Danu. All were very Buddhist, a departure from the animist practices of most of the hill tribes I'd seen in Asia, though "Nat" or spirit worship is practiced alongside more traditional Buddhist activities in virtually every home in Myanmar. Each village boasted a monestary, rather sizable considering the populations of the villages themselves. All looked fairly prosperous by Burmese standards -- houses made of wood, UN-supplied fresh water, and plentiful food, though the life was impossibly difficult and simple to western eyes with no transportation, little if any electricity, the most basic toilet facilities, and hours of backbreaking manual labor each day. Primary schools were of the one-room variety, with middle school children walking miles to nearby villages daily.

After lunch at the most improbably placed restaurant you can imagine (3 hours walk from town, 45 minutes uphill from the nearest village) I was given a choice of route. The more scenic route took you through virgin forest and past the British-made reservoir, up and down muddy hills. I might have been tempted to take this route despite the high probability of a mud-caked backside, were it not for the ultimate trekking deal-killer for me: leeches. And not the ordinary kind of leeches either, the ones that adhere to you in the water if your skin is showing. These were land leeches, a species of which I was heretofore blissfully unaware, and they specialized in jumping on you. Plus they could bite through your clothes. Eeewww. When the reply to my question about how many leeches Imight be expected to frantically pick off my body was "Oh, many many", the decision was made. No scenic forest route for me. Instead we continued around the mountain with the lovely panoramic valley views and another picturesque Paluang village perched on its steep side. I felt I made the correct decision.

Myin Daik, the Danu village in which we spent the night, was a collection of ironwood and bamboo mat stilt houses near the top of a mountain. Our residence normally housed six people, two parents and 4 kids, and consisted of four rooms -- one large room for eating, sleeping, storing crops, making baskets, and daily worshipping at the family altar; two very small rooms that served as storage and hallway; and the kitchen, with a wood fire on a square hearth set into the floor.

I didn't see many adults during my wander around the village -- they typically work the fields until 6 or 7 at night -- but I was a big hit with the kids, who were quite willing to drag me around by the hand and play whatever pointless games I suggested in mime. Their favorite was a hybrid of Ring Around the Rosy and tag, and we had a great time running around and gorging ourselves on mangoes straight from the tree.

I'm getting really bored with this account of my trek (it's probably even worse for you), so I'm going to quit now and hopefully come up with something more entertaining for Part 2. Stay tuned.

Copyright 2003 Katy Warren







posted by Katy at 12:57 AM