Middle-aged flash packers

What an action packed day!

We’d booked a boat trip yesterday. Usually I’m not a fan of these tours that pretend they’re cultural then take you to people’s shops selling stuff you don’t want. However, we were interested to see life on the lake and the delightful sales lady promised we wouldn’t be taken anywhere we didn’t want to go. Plus the trip was $20 for the four of us and I really don’t think you can complain about that.

It didn’t start that well for me. We came across the “fishermen of Inle” who historically rowed their boats with one leg and fished using a rigid net. No-one does this anymore. It’s a photo opportunity for tourists which you pay for, much like the Sri Lankan fishermen on stilts. Young men are doing it that probably haven’t fished in their lives and aggressively ask for money.

Things improved from there. Just seeing how people live on the lake is enough for me. Ladies washing their hair in the lake, a floating library, washing drying on the balconies of stilted houses, produce grown on floating grass. A way of life that I watched on travel documentaries many years ago, still being lived.

The workshops we were taken to were all owned locally and were old. Many people in Myanmar still wear the longyi everyday and the weaving of silk ones bearing the village or tribe’s pattern still continues using ancient old machines.

There are four boat building businesses which supply all of the long tail boats on the lake. They are made by hand and from wood, then coated in a lacquer from the Thitsi tree which grows wild in the Shan state and hilly regions. The boats cost up to $1500 so it’s a huge investment for the people but should last a lifetime. Thinking about our boatman, it’s going to take him a long time to recoup his investment. This is where tourism becomes problematic. The pressure is on to get as many customers as possible. Balancing economics with keeping the life that is attracting the tourists becomes difficult.

Probably the biggest dilemma was visiting the ringed neck ladies of the Padaung region. Again, I feel uncomfortable about human beings being started at like monkeys in a zoo. I don’t even like staring at monkeys in a zoo, and I don’t think they like it either!

However, this is a tradition that is dying out with the younger generation and the older ladies are proud of their culture and beauty. Plus I’m curious. How do those neck rings feel? Well, I can tell you they are extremely heavy and tight. I was able to try some on and I didn’t like the feel of the ones that would fit me as they were too tight so I tried the bigger ones on. You are forced to sit very straight and I would imagine you would walk like a model, upright and carefully. Although the official line is the neck rings protected them from tigers (!) it’s definitely a beauty thing.

The ladies were happy and charming but you can not get away from the fact that they are an exhibit. Guilty as charged.

We all made some purchases. I was sad to notice that many people didn’t buy anything. Come on peeps, this is a local economy that supports the people on the lake. Hands in pockets please.

Next up, the balloon festival. This is what started it all. Nik’s WhatsApp last year of “how do you feel about going to Myanmar and seeing the balloon festival?” resulted in a Dowling/Bolton collaboration of a tour of Myanmar.

We were all organised for our taxi ride to Taunggyi at 4.30pm. Rucksack packed, shoes on. Jan had threatened Nik with nothing short of death if he wasn’t ready on time, so he was. Only one problem. It was pouring with rain.

The balloons can’t take off in the rain. Apart from them getting wet, it’s too dangerous. Many of the balloons have fireworks attached to them and if they can’t get enough lift, they can explode on the ground, causing mayhem and injuries.

Feeling deflated (Terrible joke, you’re welcome) we contacted the guy who organised the taxi and he phoned his friend to see what the weather was like in Taunggyi. He phoned back. It wasn’t raining but he suggested we didn’t leave until 6.30pm.

Great advice. Even though it rained virtually all the way there, as we arrived at the festival ground, it stopped. We wandered down to the arena to see the first balloon released. Our spirits rose (I’ll stop now).

Jan and Nik opted for the “in the thick of it” option and stayed in the arena, close to the action.

We chose the “watch from afar, drinking beer” option and purchased ourselves a place on a bar rooftop inside the festival, where we had a grandstand view of each balloon as they took off. It really was the most fabulous spectacle. Villages from all over Myanmar build very elaborate balloons and compete with each other as to who can produce the most beautiful or spectacular structure. Obviously the ones with fireworks attached create the most interest and the sight of a balloon rocketing into the sky with fireworks exploding all around it isn’t one you see everyday as it’s just too damn dangerous.

It was a very happy if rather sleepy little group that headed home in the taxi. After casting aspersions about Steve and Nik’s ability to stay awake, I nodded off, apparently crushing Jan.

We tried not to drop mud all over the hotel floor as we crept in.

Another perfect day. And no need of dear old Lou.