TRANSPORTATION--BURMA STYLE

Use what you have.

Sorry, I have been away a few days. The joys of the (non) internet--or Rudyard Kipling's method of communication remains alive and well in Burma.

We are back in Yangon after (and I know this sounds redundant of what I have already said) an amazing, unique, special and sometimes astounding visit to Inle Lake. Inle Lake is the heart of old Burma. The center of a culture we can only imagine today in the US, and a place that is on the cusp of enormous change perhaps better for the people, but sad for the world.  With the invasion of the "moderns" the old ways inevitably will give way.  But, for now, it was an honor and pleasure to have experienced it.

Having dodged Brahman bulls pulling carts, trucks driven by the engines I could not imagine actually run, motorbikes, bicycles, horse-drawn carts and folks just ambling down the middle of the road, I did not think there could be more--I was way wrong!  Pulling up to a river we were greeted by wooden boats (and I use the term "boat" loosely) about 25' long, no wider than 36" (enough for a wooden lawn chair--yep that's the seat--actually 4-5 in each boat) powered by the loudest engine invented since the Indianapolis 500. (We'll call it the Indianapolis Canoe-Boat Killer, "Killer" for short) And our driver, well he was a Burmese John Wayne. The lake is only 9' deep on average, with floating islands throughout, so the motor drives a long shafts straight back into the water and you go roughly the same speed as the Indy 500. At first sight a whole lot of people were clutching to the life preserver which, given the inch or so of water in the bottom of each boat, was probably not a bad idea. (Red Gas can--you've got to be kidding. Burmese John W. pulled out a yellow milk container, cut a water bottle in half for a funnel and proceeded to fill 'er up.)

 

 

So, as we fly across the lake in our make-shift wooden canoe-like boatee thingee (the "Killer"), there are 500 more of these boats coming at us from every direction, and just for giggles, the locals paddle a flat bottom dug-out canoe within inches of the Indy car/boat Killer. Well sometimes paddle, unless they put a motor on it (or at least it "sounds like" a motor). 

And then there are the "barge-canoes". As far as I could tell, these are just giant versions of the
Killer, but powered by a even louder open-air engine and carrying every form of produce, people and commerce you can imagine. (Remember, of course, there are no real roads here. Dirt tracks, yes, Roads, not really.) So we ingenious humans decide anything that can be powered with an ear-shattering engine ought to be preferable--and if it is on water, all the better.

And as we got closer to where we would stay the night, a fellow jumped into the boat and began paddling us--engine now off--with his right leg while standing on the edge of the boat. 

So, the sun setting on Inle Lake, we did indeed enter the magic kingdom. Cabins built on stilts, connected to walkways, rising out of the lake. It was magic.