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So we board our 'upper class' cabin to begin our journey to Mandalay. You
may be thinking "upper class? What a pair of flashpackers*" However I can
assure you this was no first class carriage on the Virgin Pendalino train to
London, this was a thirty year old carriage with windows but no glass (so
just holes in the side of the carriages), that once moving was so rickety
and bumpy it appeared to be lifting off the tracks...at points people were
actually coming out of their seats, we were again also the only westerners
so an eight hour journey of lots of intrigued staring...even when we were
trying to nap. However the most heart stopping moment of the journey was
when me and Andy had not secured our bags tightly enough to the luggage rack
above our heads and as the train took a serious bump over some track the bag
(yes our 33L backpacks crammed to breaking point) swung down almost
decapitating the monk sitting in front of us! This caused some slight gasps
and tutting from the other passengers (the monk however appeared to have
slept through the entire ordeal). The train was an experience within itself,
when the train stops at the station women, men and children all selling a
variety of foods and drinks board the train or most commonly just put their
heads and arms full of goodies through the windows for the passengers to
buy. During the journey we saw everything from fried cakes to lobsters
(still in their shells) being sold from baskets being carried on these
vendors heads. Another highlight of the journey was getting to see the
rolling countryside, scenery and villages. We have found out that 70% of the
Myanmar population are farmers and after eight hours on a train you can
believe this. The land is beautiful and dotted amongst the miles of farmland
are dazzling pagoda's covered in gold leaf and jewels. This also gave us an
opportunity to see the homes made of thatch and weaved bamboo that the local
people live in as well as farmers ploughing land with ox and women
harvesting wearing conical hats and carrying huge wicker baskets. As we got
closer to the city the landscape began to change as villages became bigger
and dirtier. The most alarming things to see was the way in which rubbish,
huge mounds of rubbish, seemed to have just been dumped next to the train
tracks on the other side of the villages perimeters.
So after eight long hours in chairs not built for journeys lasting longer
than fifteen minutes we arrived in Mandalay and it felt (to me) into chaos.
Before we had even unsecured our bags fro the luggage rack and started to
disembark from the train we could see taxi drivers pointing at us and
gathering to try and take us to our hotel. This is an aspect of our
adventures that I am finding very stressful, being hounded and hustled
normally before we've even had a glimpse of our new destination. Andy
however handles these situations amazingly with a firm but very polite
manner. So with our backpacks and day bags firmly in our grip we make our
way from the train across the platform (where people and families are just
lying sprawled out as if sunbathing on a beach, some selling produce, some
just appear to be chilling out after a hard day waiting for a train), up the
stairs (where again I am reminded of the lack of awareness people appear to
have for an individuals need for personal space) and into the main body of
the train station where we again are met by taxi drivers and pick up drivers
very willing to escort us to our hotel. But me and Andy have made a
plan...on the train we spent time working out our way to the hotel from the
train station, we have it all memorised in our minds and are determined to
save ourselves a couple of dollars in taxi fair. So we make it to the front
gates of the train station before conceding that yes we don't have a clue
where we are going and we are going to need a little support in the form of
a taxi driver after all.
So Mandalay is a relatively young city, in times gone by it has been the
capital city for the Burmese kingdom however now it is very busy and built
up and has all the character of a scruffy town center. This was our
impression anyway of Mandalay in the midday heat after getting out of bed at
5am. There are lots of sights that can be seen around Mandalay such as the
Mandalay Palace and Mandalay Hill (apparently for a stunning sunset) but the
guide book warned us against potential scams that could part us with our
hard earned dollars and all we really needed at this point was food and a
shower. So we check in to the Royal Guest House.
The Royal Guest House was the lonely planet guide 'top pick', however after
my first impressions of our hotel in Bagan which was also a top pick I
didn't hold out much hope. However it wasn't half bad (the only scary thing
was a massive, thick, sharp looking metal hook in the ceiling of the
bathroom, Andy tried to convince me that this was left over from when the
hotel was first constructed).
After our journey from the train station and then a further journey on foot
to exchange some more money (this time no black market just a legitimate
travel agency) amongst the traffic and fumes (like Yangon, Mandalay has no
footpaths and those that do exist are broken and unstable and look as though
at any moment they may give way and deliver you into what we can only assume
is a sewage network below) I had started to become a little...frayed around
the edges and Andy was trying his hardest to manage my increasing levels of
stress. One remedy was to find a restaurant that sold pizza and chips! In
the restaurant over our western grub we planned our next move, deciding that
for us Mandalay would be just a stop over...our next stop would be Hsipaw.
So the following morning we are up and in a taxi on our way to the bus
station to board our coach to Hsipaw. The taxi pulls up outside what appears
to be a very small backstreet warehouse and parked outside is not a coach
but instead a pick up (for those of you who are not familiar with the south
east asian pick up this is basically a milk float with a slightly bigger
engine, but instead of being piled high with milk it is piled high with
people, luggage, animals, anything you want if you can balance it in, on or
around the vehicle. It is the same size as a milk float and like a milk
float it also has no seats, instead just two wooden planks running down each
side upon which one, if one can find space, can perch their bottom). As we
got out of the taxi the man loading the pick up with wooden crates took our
luggage off us and helpfully launched it into the pick up...this is the
moment when I thought 'Oh my, I am actually going to have travel the six
hours to Hsipaw in the back of a milk float'. However just as I was starting
to spiral in to despair Andy managed to ascertain from the locals hurrying
us into another 'waiting room' that we were traveling in the milk float but
only to the bus station where we would then get on to an actual coach. So
me, Andy, an Israeli girl named Hiagar (like cigar with a 'H') who had lots
of do's and don'ts for traveling around Asia and was also very loud and
confident and openly informing us of her plans to marry an Italian man so
that she could get herself an Italian passport as her Israeli passport will
not allow her access to some country's, 2 young toddlers balanced on top of
crates of fruit,, more crates and bags, 6 local people, plus two more
hanging off the back of the float for good measure and all of our luggage
made our way to the bus station 20 minutes away (I felt that the only thing
missing from this image was a pair of live chickens).
*Flashpackers - those masquerading as backpackers but actually enjoying the
high life in fancy accommodation etc.
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