Sunrise and Sunset in Bagan

myanmar bagan sunset hot air balloon view

The multitude of pagodas at Bagan are quite a sight from the ground, but the only way to truly appreciate the wonders of the ancient city is from up high, where you can see not 5-10, but 50-100 pagodas at once. And when better to do it than at sunrise and sunset, to add some brilliant colors to the mix?

On our first evening in Bagan, we went to Shwesandaw Temple, the most popular sunset spot. With 5 levels and a view that extends to the Irrawaddy river, it’s the most accessible location for the spectacular view. Unfortunately, that also means that it’s the most accessed, so when we got to the temple half an hour before sunset, it was already crawling with tourists and locals trying to sell various goods.

myanmar bagan pagodas shwesandaw sunset

The terrace was already filled to the point where people were sitting on the steep, 2-ft-tall steps that came up to my knees (thank goodness for railings). But looping around from the Southern side, I managed to squeeze my way onto some prime real estate looking out to the West.

About fifteen minutes later, a sly Chinese woman wedged herself behind me and tried to cajole me into trading places (“Come, do you want to rest against the wall? Let’s switch”), but I shook my head with wide eyes and pretended not to understand. If I let go of that spot, there was no way I was going to find my way back. This was the level below us when we first arrived, to give you an idea:

myanmar bagan sunset shwesandaw sunset crowd

And the temple from afar during the sunset, courtesy of my Dad, who made the smart decision to walk among the other temples instead of trying to squeeze on to this one:

myanmar bagan sunset  shwesandaw crowd

It was a long and literally crushing wait, but we were awarded with a gorgeous view. And a special treat–there were invisible, low-hanging clouds over the mountains, so the sun “set” twice:

myanmar bagan sunset shwesandaw view

myanmar bagan sunset shwesandaw view

myanmar bagan sunset shwesandaw view


Having seen sunset, we woke early the next morning for sunrise from an even better vantage point: a hot air balloon.

A rickety but charming old bus with wooden windows pulled up to the hotel to pick us up at 5:50am, and it brought us to an open launch area where the crew was waiting for us with folding chairs, coffee, and tea.

myanmar bagan sunset hot air balloon bus

Limp balloons lay nearby, and after our pilot had explained the necessary safety procedures and corralled us in a secure area, the crew started to blow them up. First a fan for cool air to inflate them, and then burners for the hot air to lift them.

myanmar bagan sunset hot air balloon

The pilot walked into the balloon at various times to check that the strings inside weren’t tangling as the balloon inflated, which I imagine is like being in the biggest game of parachute EVER.

myanmar bagan sunset hot air balloon inflation

myanmar bagan sunset hot air balloon inflation

One by one the balloons stood upright and took off, until finally we were the last ones left on the ground. Great. Not only did we select the slowest company (yellow and green balloons drifted by while our red ones were still slumped on their sides), but we had the slowest balloon. The slowest of the slow. By the time we actually got some air, the sun was already well above the horizon.

As it turns out, though, there are benefits to being last. We could take pictures of temples framed by all of the other floating balloons as we approached, and again with clear skies as we passed.

myanmar bagan sunset hot air balloon view

myanmar bagan pagodas overhead view

myanmar bagan sunset hot air balloon view

myanmar bagan sunset hot air balloon

But I have to admit that the pictures are more exciting with balloons in them:

myanmar bagan sunset hot air balloon view

myanmar bagan sunset hot air balloon view

And we more than made up for the late start by cruising by the river, over fields of peanuts, dunes of sand, and ox carts in motion (of course we have no pictures of them though, because we had to put our cameras away in preparation for landing). However, the wind wasn’t behaving quite like the pilot anticipated, so we ended up pretty far in the sand…and tipped over.

We were all in landing position (sitting on the bench, gripping onto straps in front of us with our arms outstretched and locked) and the balloon tipped slowly, so it was more comical than alarming. Two passing locals took one look at us and burst out laughing, without the slightest intention of concealing their merriment. I can’t say I blame them, who wouldn’t laugh at 16 foreigners laying sideways in a basket?

myanmar bagan sunset hot air balloon tilted landing

myanmar bagan sunset hot air balloon tilted landing

While the landing was fun, finding our way out of the sand wasn’t. It was a 30-minute trek to the nearest village with a road big enough for a bus to drive on to pick us up, but we did pass some scenes of unspoiled village life along the way.

myanmar bagan sunset hot air balloon sand landing

myanmar bagan sunset ox cart

I felt sorry for the crew, who were going to have follow the same path with all of the equipment loaded on ox carts because vehicles couldn’t drive on the sand. Pilot Barry definitely wasn’t gaining much love from the company for his unplanned landing, but he sure scored major points with us for the one-of-a-kind experience! We were all served a glass of champagne and delicious banana bread once we completed our trek as well, so it was quite a delightful ending – technically beginning (to the day), since at that point it was only 9:30am.

Of all the sun-chasing that we did in Myanmar, Bagan was the most difficult. The views are quite stunning and unique, though, so that makes the long waits, suffocating crowds, and sandy shoes all worthwhile.

 

The Pagodas of Bagan

myanmar bagan pagodas horse cart ride

The ancient city of Bagan is one of Myanmar’s most-visited destinations for local and international tourists alike. First inhabited in the 7th century CE, Bagan has around 3,000 pagodas in a 16 square mile area, mostly dating from the heyday of the Pagan Empire from 1044 to 1287CE. They’re everywhere; if you stood in the center of Bagan and pointed in a random direction, you would come across pagoda –  or 10, or 20 – in all 360 degrees.

myanmar bagan pagodas overhead view

In many ways, Bagan is similar to Angkor Wat in Cambodia, the famous temple complex dating from roughly the same period. But they also have completely different atmospheres, as Wiki Travel sums up well:

Angkor ruins are like a Chinese banquet where food is presented in spectacular servings with a suspenseful wait between items which are hidden beneath a curtain of forests. On the other hand, Bagan is served in Spanish Tapas style, the ingredients exposed to the customer and shown in small bite-sized servings, with the next attraction close and visible at hand, in shorter intervals.

With so many scattered pagodas (a word that includes both stupas, which are the mound-shaped structures that usually enshrine relics, and temples, which are buildings you can walk into), it would take a lifetime to visit and appreciate them all. But these are some of the more famous ones:

Ananda Temple

Sometimes titled “the Westminster Abbey of Burma,” the Ananda Temple dates from 1105CE and contains four huge standing Buddha images gilded with gold, along with countless other murals and small statues depicting the life of the Buddha. From afar, the standing Buddhas smile welcomingly, but as you approach his expression changes to a sterner mask, reminding you to take the teachings seriously.

myanmar bagan pagodas ananda temple gold standing buddha

The outer walls used to be coated with trails of gray from centuries of wear, but a recent restoration project has restored some of its former glory.

myanmar bagan pagodas ananda temple exterior renovation

Shwezigon Pagoda

Before the Shwezigon Pagoda was built in 1102CE pagodas were generally smaller in scale, so this pagoda is dubbed the “prototype of Burmese stupas.” It is believed to contain a tooth relic of the Buddha, and the location was chosen by placing the relic on the back of a white elephant and entrusting it to find a “holy place.”

myanmar bagan pagodas Shwezigon

Every four years the pagoda has to be re-gilded with gold, but I think the flaking gold leaf is beautiful as well.

myanmar bagan pagodas Shwezigon

Gu Byauk Gyi

A small temple with intricate frescos dating from the 13th century. Because the wall paintings are so fragile, no photography of any kind was allowed inside. So in lieu of a photo, here is a link.

The delicate temple was not at all helped by the fact that pieces of it were carved out and carted off in 1899. A German engineer named Mr. Thomahn (at least I think that’s what I had in my notes – curse my handwriting!) fell in love with the frescos so much that he decided to carve 1x2ft panels out and take them back with him to Germany. He was already about 5 panels in before people caught on, and the pieces are still missing. Come on, now, and we can’t take one (no-flash) photo?

Nanpaya Temple

A beautiful temple with Hindu influences, built by the Mon King Manuha as a personal place of worship when he was held captive in Bagan between the 11th and 12th centuries. It is one of four temples in Bagan that is made of sandstone, and it is lined with intricate stone carvings. It was pillaged throughout the years, though, with parts missing on some of the carvings because thieves thought that round stomachs and bulging body parts were hiding treasure.

myanmar bagan pagodas nanpaya rock carving missing stomach

Manuha Temple

Also built by the Mon King Manuha (how could you guess?) in captivity, using the money he obtained by selling his personal jewels. This temple looks quite normal on the outside, but you squeeze through one of its small doors and BAM, there’s a Buddha in your face. The Buddha statues fill up almost the entire room:

myanmar bagan pagodas manuha temple giant buddha

This was intentional, as it conveys the stress and discomfort that King Manuha felt while in captivity. Subtle details in the reclining Buddha in the back, like its closing eyes and its stacked feet, indicate that it’s a dying Buddha as opposed to a resting Buddha. The message is that the king would only be free in death, and indeed, he died without returning to his kingdom.

The dying Buddha with a human for scale:

myanmar bagan pagodas manuha temple reclining buddha

And just to get a sense of how cramped the rooms were:

myanmar bagan pagodas manuha temple reclining buddha

A floor plan from baganmyanmar.com:

myanmar bagan pagodas manuha temple floorplan with buddhas

Shwesandaw Pagoda

Known as the “Sunset Pagoda,” this is THE place to be for the sunset…or the one place NOT to be, depending on your perspective. I’m leaning toward the latter. It too is sacred and contains hairs of the Buddha, but most tourists are just interested in camping out on one of its four levels and taking pictures every 5 seconds as the sun goes down (sadly, I fall into this category. I won’t share my final picture count).

myanmar-bagan-pagodas14


These are only a few — and admittedly, most impressive — of the thousands of pagodas, and they each had such rich histories and wonderful artifacts. I imagine that each and every pagoda has some sort of story, whether involving the people who commissioned it, built it, or visited it throughout the years. I couldn’t dig out all these stories, but I could at least take a horse cart trip through the pagodas, in old school(ish) fashion.

myanmar bagan pagodas horse cart ride

myanmar bagan pagodas horse cart ride

Sadly, a few factors, like Myanmar’s controversial military government and alleged poor treatment/reconstruction of the ancient temples, have prevented Bagan from being listed as a UNESCO World Heritage Site. But regardless of the whether it has that official title, Bagan has a magic to it that spans almost a millennium, and it deserves to be cherished and respected to the utmost extent.

Inle Lake

myanmar inle lake fishermen with nets

When I first saw that we were staying for three nights at Inle Lake, I was both a little relieved (a break from repacking every morning) and a little taken aback. Two nights, sure, but three? Isn’t that a little excessive with a tight itinerary? But after seeing Inle Lake and its remarkable way of life, I wish we could have stayed for much longer.

Inle Lake is extremely long and narrow, connected in some spots by a waterway so tight that the side banks (especially with floating grasses and hyacinths) seem to close in on the boats motoring along them. Most tourists start at the town of Nyaung Shwe at the Northern tip of the lake and only explore the surrounding area, but for the full experience of the lake, we started down South from a town called Phekhon.

We boarded long, narrow boats with engines, the standard vehicles of transportation on the lake. I love the design of the boats, with the front quarter sticking up out of the water and the middle of the boat almost level with the water’s surface:

myanmar inle lake boat with motorThey were quite comfortable, equipped with padded seats, seat back pockets filled with water and cleaning wipes, umbrellas to deflect sunlight or water spray at high speeds, and even toasty blankets to break the wind. Our boats were newer with quieter motors, but just about every other boat that we saw had motors that you could hear from 100 yards away. Thank goodness for our boats, otherwise the three days at Inle wouldn’t have been nearly as fun.

We pulled out our cameras as soon as we left the pier, and didn’t have them off for more than 2 minutes straight thereafter:

myanmar inle lake water and birds

myanmar inle lake boat with motor

myanmar inle lake river grass

A couple of hours in, about halfway to our destination, we encountered a toll bridge of sorts. It’s hard to make out in the photo, but there is a woven basket hanging down from the bridge between the two posts. We pulled up to the basket, the boatman seated in the front threw in a few bills, and off we went!

myanmar inle lake mawbe toll bridge

Inle is famous for its floating villages:

myanmar inle lake village house on stilts

Every house had its own little dock leading down to the water, and often there were people sitting on it washing pots and pans or taking a river bath. Even if they were bathing (always, quite prudently, with the essential parts covered), they generally responded to our waves and smiles with hollars and waves of their own.

myanmar inle lake village house on stilts

Some, but not all, of the villages had power lines running through them, lining the lake passage like any normal street:

myanmar inle lake village house on stilts with electrical wires

The electrical poles made for some great silhouettes (what happens if this comes crashing down into the river? Because it’s not at all out of the realm of possibility):

myanmar inle lake power electrical wires

Another unique feature of Inle Lake is its floating gardens. Villagers start with clumps of river grass (like the one in the photo above – river grass and river hyacinths can be found basically anywhere), which they anchor with bamboo poles. Then they add layers of seaweed and mud, slowly building a little plot of earth in which to plant crops like tomatoes, cucumbers, and squash. These plants put down roots just far enough to get the right amount of water, and because they don’t have to be irrigated, they can be planted for many more months than the same crops on land.

myanmar inle lake floating gardens with hut

We pulled up next to a plot to try standing on it, and it surprisingly held the weight of three people, only seeping down about an inch or so. These things are buoyant! You don’t want to misstep, though.

myanmar inle lake floating gardens

Inle Lake is also famous for its fishermen, who wield large conical nets and paddle with their feet, so as to free their hands for fishing. They don’t fish so much as just pose for tourists now, but it’s still a remarkable amount of skill.

myanmar inle lake fishermen with nets

myanmar inle lake fisherman rowing with feet

Out boatman demonstrated the technique:

myanmar inle lake boatman rowing with feet

But clearly, it’s not as easy as it looks.

myanmar inle lake rowing with feet

Our group leader got the wonderful opportunity to snap this photo aboard one of the fishing boats:

myanmar inle lake fisherman with net and rowing with feet

And of course, our fascination with sunsets didn’t go away at Inle Lake: (the smoke is from farmers burning their crops in order to get ready for the next rotation)

myanmar inle lake at sunset with smoke

myanmar inle lake boat at sunset

The three days ended way too fast! It’s hard to say what my favorite part of Myanmar was, but Inle Lake was unforgettable.

 

The Padaung “Long-Neck Ladies”

myanmar padaung long necked ladies

One of the highlights of our trip that we were most looking forward to seeing was the famous Padaung “long-neck ladies” of Eastern Myanmar (and Thailand as well, but they are natively Burmese). They wear colorful headdresses and wrap metal rings around their necks, and they are known worldwide for their practices.

The trip out to visit them wasn’t easy, even though the area is far more accessible than it was even a few years ago. According to our guide, it’s only been three years since foreign tourists have been permitted to enter the area without asking for government permission, and a few more years before that since foreigners have been allowed to enter at all. Now foreign access is readily granted, but the villages where the “long-necked” ladies, or Padaung women, live are still physically quite difficult to reach. The best method was by bus down a mostly one-lane paved road, which wound around the Shan hillsides and ran straight through multiple villages of various sizes.

myanmar padaung shan state hills

myanmar padaung shan state village

We departed Kalaw, a former British hill station, at 7am in the morning, and drove for nearly 7 hours before we reached the foot of the villages. 7 hours was long, but it wasn’t altogether uneventful. About halfway, we were slowly rolling through town when suddenly there was a bang, we screeched to a stop, and I looked up from my seat in the second row to see a 12ft long, 2in thick metal pole sticking into the bus parallel to the windshield, reaching from the front door almost clear across to the driver.

It must have passed only a few inches in front of the driver’s assistant, who stands on the front steps of the bus (with absolutely no break, so he stood for 7 whole bumpy hours). The man who was carrying the pole swung it out into the road without looking, and if we had been going just a little faster, the poor, hard-working assistant could have been left without a head. There was nothing we could do without incurring huge delays besides yell at the man to look both ways next time, but thankfully no one was hurt. And nothing was damaged except for the windshield, but it looks like it was, well, hit with a 12ft long, 2in thick metal pole.

myanmar padaung driver's assistant accident with pole

Eventually we got to a dirt road that was partly in the process of being paved, with grapefruit-sized rocks placed 1-layer thick across the road-to-be, soon to be broken into finer stones. Our gargantuan bus was not designed for either the dirt or the sharp rocks, so it took a good half hour of crawling to get to our final destination, and from there it was yet another half hour’s walk through the valley and down to the village.

The first two stalls that we encountered were manned by the Padaung ladies, selling small scarves and accessories made of (supposedly) the same bronze/brass material as their coiled rings. We approached cautiously, gently gesturing with our cameras for permission to take their pictures. But they automatically posed, seeming quite unfazed by the sudden photoshoot. When they pose for pictures in front of their own pictures, you know something’s up.

myanmar padaung long necked ladies

myanmar padaung long necked ladies

Seems like they’ve seen enough tourists to come to a tacit arrangement: you take your pictures, you buy our goods. Luckily, we were with enough people that someone would buy something at every stop, and I made my contribution a few stalls down with a bronze bracelet for 5000kyat.

Further into the village, we found ourselves walking among houses. A few Padaung ladies were at work or lounging at home, and we came across two who consented to pictures, but then came up to the fence and requested 2000kyat per camera.

myanmar padaung long necked ladies

By the time our whole group had passed, they made out like thieves – several days’ wages for doing absolutely nothing. At least some of the others sold goods or gave friendly introductions to their culture. But we tourists made this possible…

In contrast, a few houses down, an elderly Padaung lady invited us up into her home and allowed our guide to show us around.

myanmar padaung long necked ladies home

myanmar padaung long necked ladies home

myanmar padaung long necked ladies home

myanmar padaung long necked ladies

myanmar padaung long necked ladies village road and home

And at the end, a few other Padaung ladies from the surrounding houses also stopped by.

myanmar padaung long necked ladies

As a token of thanks, we gave them 1000kyat per household, which our guide told us was more than enough. If only we could reclaim the money that we gave to the two previous ladies and distribute it among these friendly people instead. I’m upset at those two for asking for money in such a way, and I’m even more upset at myself for giving it to them. But then again, the whole idea of paying someone to take a few photos, with no deeper interactions, is somewhat unsettling.

You can’t help but wonder…once the road through the village (and right in front of some houses, like the one we visited) is paved, what effect will the influx of tourists have? Already there are locals making easy money, and already there are foreigners that care only about taking a couple of pictures. But I’m glad that we got the deeper look into the Padaung way of life that we did, and I hope that, with all of the imminent changes, the Padaung people will hold onto it.


The Padaung Practice


  • In these tribes, the metal rings are associated with status and beauty. Women wear them around their necks to resemble dragons, because the tribes believe that they are descendants of the dragon goddess.
  • There are many other theories for where the practice may have originated. One, for instance, is that in the17th and 18th centuries, the kingdom armies used to pass through the area on the way to fight empires in Thailand, and the women adopted the practice to make themselves ugly and hence less likely to be taken. Another is that the ladies worked in the field and tigers used to pose a problem, so the ladies adorned the metal rings to keep their fatal points (neck, wrists, knees) protected.
  • The rings are not separate, but are one long, individual coil. Made mostly of brass and bronze, they’re heavy and also expensive (the one that my Dad is holding costs 300USD), which is why they are a status symbol.

myanmar padaung long necked ladies metal coil

  • Contrary to popular rumors, the women’s necks do not collapse without support of the metal rings. They sleep and work with the rings on, but they can take them off with no problem and frequently do to wash the rings while bathing.
  • Girls first start wearing the rings around ages 7-8. They start with 5 rings, then slowly add a few more each couple of years. After age 20, they will have their full set of rings.

myanmar padaung long necked ladies girl

This adorable lady is only 5:

myanmar padaung long necked ladies girl

The Golden Rock Pagoda

myanmar golden rock at night

One of the first items on our agenda for Myanmar was making the road trip out to the Golden Rock on top of Mt. Kyaiktiyo. A famous spiritual site, the Golden Rock is a precariously balanced rock that has been enshrined and gilded with gold over thousands of years.

According to the Visit Myanmar flyer,

the pagoda was built over a Hair relic, more than 2500 years ago, in the life time of Buddha. Legend has it that the HAir relic was given to a hermit by Buddha Himself. The hermit treasured the sacred Hair in his hair knot until he found a boulder resembling his own head on which he could build a pagoda to enshrine it. In the Mon language “Kyaik” means pagoda” and “Yo” means “to carry on the head.” “Ithi” in Pali means “hermit.” Thus, the name “Kyaiktiyo” derived from “Kyaik-Thi-Yo,” “the pagoda carried on a hermit’s head.

From Yangon, we embarked on a roughly four hour bus ride through Bago and small villages, on a road lined with stalls selling watermelons, ice potatoes, and clay pots.

myanmar golden rock road stall watermelon

There were clusters of a dozens of these stalls a mere 5 meters or so away from each other, all selling exactly the same things. You’ve got to wonder how they ever make any money, but there is only one road leading up to the Golden Rock, so I guess they have a high enough volume of potential visitors to make the storefronts worthwhile.

Along the way we encountered a handful of other large tour buses, but other more common sights were small trucks stuffed to the brim with locals making the pilgrimage, sometimes with an overflow of passengers sitting on top of the car or standing on the back rim; freight trucks loaded with hay, boxes, or palm leaves piled higher than the trucks themselves; and motorbikes puttering away on the side of the road.

myanmar golden rock road car piled iwth people

myanmar golden rock road truck

myanmar golden rock  road car piled with people and monks

As a consequence of sharing the mostly one-lane road with such interesting traffic, we weren’t able to arrive at the base of the mountain until the sun had already disappeared behind the mountains. So much for seeing the Golden Rock at sunset. It would have been great timing if we were already at the top, but we still had quite a ways to go.

The road up the mountain was steep, so we abandoned our bus and piled onto a local truck instead, like the ones in the pictures below. Three people squeezed into the front with the driver (not sure how that worked, because as far as I could tell there was only one passenger seat), and the rest of us piled in the back, which had no roof and was filled with 7 narrow rows of seats that fit about 6 people each.

myanmar golden rock local truck

myanmar golden rock local truck

Not a square inch of that truck was wasted! And even laden with 50+ people, the truck positively flew up the mountain, swinging up switchbacks with about a 25 degree incline. Occasionally we passed stations along the way, where the truck would stop for the sole purpose of giving the passengers time to pass donations to the young men that flocked to the sides of the truck with clinking metal bowls. And then we were off again, zooming up the winding mountain road.

By the time we reached the last stop, we had already lost the race to beat the dark. But even then we were still not quite there – the Golden Rock was off in the distance but finally visible, and we made the rest of the trek along the ledge on foot. On barefoot, for 75% of it. This picture is taken about halfway along the path:

myanmar golden rock from distance at night

All along the path were stalls lit up by flashing Christmas lights. More commercialized than we anticipated, but then again not altogether unexpected. At least because it was dark, the majority of stalls had already closed up shop. I can only imagine the bustle of the path during the daytime.

Even though we missed the sunset, seeing the rock at night was also quite a special treat! If there’s one modern art that the Burmese have absolutely perfected (and Yangon actually has some of the most beautiful abstract paintings that I’ve ever seen), it’s the lighting of gold-gilded objects.

I didn’t see an obnoxious spotlight anywhere, and yet the rock shone like a golden nugget. There were people praying by candlelight as well, which made for a spectacular sight.

myanmar golden rock at night with candlelight

The rock itself didn’t look egg-shaped or like a head, as previously described (as Dad said, if the rock supposedly looks like a hermit’s head, then “that hermit must have been one funky-looking dude”), but it was undeniably quite unbelievably balanced. It truly looks like one small push would send it over the edge. But apparently that’s not a concern, because men are allowed to approach and apply gold leaf to precisely the area where you’d think they wouldn’t want anyone to touch it.

myanmar golden rock at night

Men and only men, take note — there are signs all around the rock declaring “LADIES ARE NOT ALLOWED TO ENTER.”

myanmar golden rock ladies not allowed to enter sign

Well, I never…our guide explained that it may be a result of Indian influences, with the separation of sexes, and it only appears at select areas at some of the most famous sites. I also read somewhere that it technically should only apply to women who are menstruating, but it’s “rude to ask, and unthinkable to verify.” I get that, nobody likes menstruation. But it’s a byproduct of producing life and we have absolutely no control over it, so that’s still not an acceptable reason.

Once we had walked around and gotten our fill, we made our way to our hotel via the same trucks that lugged us up. The trip down was even more of a roller coaster ride, complete with air brakes. But the best part of the ride was looking up at the night sky, with the Milky Way painted across it and millions of stars winking down. Since I moved to NYC, I think I’ve only seen about a dozen stars total. Even without man-made pagodas and gold-gilded sites, Myanmar is a magical place!

The Shwedagon Pagoda

myanmar shwedagon pagoda stupa sunset

The Shwedagon pagoda was on our itinerary a total of three times: once for sunset on the evening when we first arrived, a second time the morning after to see the sunrise, and a third time for sunset again the day after that. The first and second attempts never came to be, partly because of disorganization and partly because we were lazy. So this was our last chance!

Unfortunately, once again, we weren’t doing too well. The travel agency decided that our first order of business when we returned to Yangon should be to settle all outstanding payments, so we spent an hour of the afternoon waiting for MasterCards to be rejected and Visas to be processed. Then we drove in circles around the city center to catch a glimpse of some of the old colonial buildings, and by the time we were finally set to make a beeline for the Shwedagon pagoda, we found ourselves very firmly and helplessly locked in rush hour. Rush hour in Yangon is pretty terrible. 10-minutes-to-crawl-through-one-block terrible.

Miraculously, we actually did make it to the Shwedagon pagoda before the sun went down! We took off our shoes, as is required at all pagodas and religious sites, and left them on the bus (all except me since I, for whatever reason, thought I would be cool and carry them in instead. They did come in handy for the trip to the bathroom though) and then rode three flights of escalators up the hill through the Western entrance.

myanmar shwedagon pagoda west entrance lions

The first thing I did was commit a religious faux pas. Our guide excitedly told us that we were in luck because we had the opportunity to receive good luck charms from famous visiting monks. She led us up onto a side terrace near the entrance, where she clasped her hands together, bowed, and spoke in Burmese to a monk that was handing out colorful woven bracelets. At a complete loss for what to do, I attempted to do the same thing (minus the Burmese) – except I forgot that I had my flip flops in hand, and as I bent forward the soles of my shoes fell onto the ground. I might as well have just been wearing them. The monk gave an angry shout, and our guide quickly grabbed the shoes and placed them, soles together, at the bottom of the terrace. This apparently did not ruin my chance to be bestowed with luck, but now I have the additional honor of being chided by a monk — and a famous one, at that.

myanmar shwedagon pagoda good luck charm

Having already visited two pagodas, the Sule Pagoda and the Shwemawdaw Pagoda, I had concluded that pagodas were generally all fairly similar, if you couldn’t read Burmese and didn’t seek deeper religious significance. But I couldn’t have been more wrong in regards to the Shwedagon pagoda!

In addition to the massive, 326-ft stupa in the center (unfortunately covered with bamboo mats to re-guild the golden surface every four years), the enclosed hilltop is covered in smaller stupas, Buddha images, and ornate buildings.

myanmar shwedagon pagoda stupa sunset

myanmar shwedagon pagoda temples and stupas sunset

myanmar shwedagon pagoda gold buddha images

myanmar shwedagon pagoda sunset stupa

It’s grander in scale and richer in history than the other pagodas by orders of magnitude, but I think the atmosphere is what really sets it apart. It’s at once a destination for deep, meditative prayer and a place to set up a picnic and people-watch all afternoon. Wiki travel guide says it best:

“Unlike other sites, it has at once a spiritual as well as a secular feel about it. Children run up and down singing songs, monks sit on the steps chatting, young men cast amorous glances at women, women stand around gossiping, all while others are deep in prayer in front of whatever shrine has significance for them.”

myanmar shwedagon pagoda temples and stupas

We only had an hour, but some of the marvelous things that we saw include:

The Chan-Thar-Gyi Buddha image, the largest concrete image at Shwedagon Pagoda. Because it’s winter, it was covered in a shawl to keep it warm. But devotees could also pull a lever (see the monk in the bottom left) to fan it in case it needed a little fresh air!

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King Singu’s Bell, commissioned in 1778AD and weighing 24 tons. After the British conquered Yangon, they decided to carry this bell back as a war trophy. However, it fell off the train along the way and got stuck in the mud, so they gave up on that idea. It lay abandoned for two years, until the Burmese asked for it to be restored to its original location.

Probably figuring that it was more trouble than it was worth, the British government granted the request but warned them that it was difficult to transport. “Not a problem,” replied the Burmese, who strapped the bell with bamboo and simply waited for it to float up during the coming rainy season.

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Planetary weekday posts: all around the central pagoda are mini-shrines labeled with days of the week, and it brings luck to find the shrine corresponding to the weekday on which you were born and pray and/or pour water on the statues at said shrine. For planetary reasons I don’t understand, Wednesday is the only day split into morning and afternoon, and there’s also a shrine for an unidentified “Rahu.” Being Westerners, none of us knew which weekday our birthdays were on, but a quick iCalendar check yielded Thursday for me. (Did you know that iCal goes back all the way back to 1953 and beyond?)

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I wish we could have stayed to people watch! But I guess you can’t ask for too much, at least we made the sunset. I sure walked out with a lot of bestowed luck, so here’s to an auspicious 2015, Year of the Goat!

Snow Day! The Joy of Juno

Being from Colorado, seeing snowfall makes me feel right at home. But even I was getting nervous on Monday, when the winter storm warnings were issued and everyone hastily wrapped up their work to start the mad dash for home. By 2pm, the office was more than half empty, and the general consensus was that the following day would be a work-at-home day.

YES, Snow Day! With, you know, work. But still plenty of time to play in the snow!

New York had already issued a state of emergency, and at 9pm, we received a mass emergency alert on our phones stating that “all non-emergency must be off all roads in NYC by 11pm until further notice.” At 11pm, subways officially shut down as well. NYC was taking every precaution…

…all for nothing, it seems. There was a solid six inches of snow piled up on the streets when I woke up the next morning, but the forecast for the “biggest snowstorm in the history of New York City” fell short.

It was still enough to quiet the city and turn it into a frosty playground, though. So I set out on a stroll to Central Park at 8:30am, when most of the city was sleeping and the snow was still undisturbed, to capture scenes of the storm in a normally bustling city.

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Just about everything was closed. Only a handful of cars and people were out on the expansive streets, and the crosswalks all had barricades of snow around 2 feet high. This was an incredibly tall mound of snow right next to the Rockefeller Center (see the snowplow on the left for scale):

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Subway service was suspended until 9am, but there was barely anyone out and about to ride them.

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I found these snow piles quite funny:

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And Central Park was picturesque:

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When I went back to actually play in the snow almost 12 hours later, there was barely a square meter of snow that had not been trampled, formed into a snowman, or packed by hundreds of feet. And all of the road-side snow that had been so fun to jump in had degenerated into unidentifiable slush. I figured such beauty couldn’t last long in the city. But beautiful it most certainly was, and I’m so glad I was fortunate enough to capture it.

First Snowfall at the Cloisters

Last weekend my Dad, who came with my Mom to the Tri-state area for the holidays, visited me for one last day in NYC (while my mother ran off to California for a slew of New Year’s Eve late-night ballroom dancing celebrations. Meanwhile, I stayed in on New Year’s Eve and baked cookies. Can you say “role reversal”?)

The forecast for the day was about 10 solid hours of a 90% chance of rain, but at a loss of anything else to do, I suggested visiting the Cloisters. I had heard that it was a less-trafficked branch of the Met that had a focus on Medieval architecture as well as art. As my Dad was an architect by training, I figured he would enjoy it.

We took the long subway ride North past 200th Street and emerged to find that, true to the forecast, there was precipitation. However, it was of the dry, fluffy, white kind. Now, this I don’t mind!

It’s snowed a couple of times this winter before, but this was the first time it’s actually stuck on the roads. Walking on the path that winds up the small hill to the Cloisters in the snow was like being briefly transported to a winter wonderland. We didn’t get a White Christmas, but I guess this is a close second!

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The Cloisters itself is one large and austere stone building that houses authentic medieval European churches and gardens which were transplanted in the 1930s and painstakingly rebuilt. I don’t know what I was expecting to see — exhibits explaining medieval architectural practices and structures, perhaps? — but this was like being transported to through time to another sort of wonderland, one where you could walk from a 12th century Spanish church straight into a 11th century French courtyard (these dates are probably completely wrong, by the way. But you get the idea).

Even though there were much fewer visitors at the Cloisters than at the Met, it was still fairly difficult to take pictures without any people in them. So at some point, I just gave up and decided to include them.

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My favorite is the man kneeling in front of Jesus. Praying? Nope, just taking a quick picture.

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And my Dad’s favorite work of art, silver-stained glass roundels. All of the different colors are achieved by painting with different mixtures of silver and then baking the glass, thereby actually staining it (and not just painting it, which is what most “stained glass” is). Most were images of Jesus and monastic life, but let’s just take a moment to appreciate whatever is happening in that second scene down there:

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I completely did not expect something like the Cloisters to exist anywhere in the vicinity of New York City. Snow or not, it’s a magical place!

Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade

I feel that there are certain things you have to do at least once if you live in New York City, and attending nationally televised events, like the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade, is one of them. People fly in from all over the country and book hotel rooms close to the parade route in order to see it, so given that I live five streets away, I really have no excuse.

My plan was to wake up at 6am to secure an optimal front row spot, but I couldn’t help snoozing once…Okay, twice. I cooked and ate a nice warm egg breakfast, donned the long underwear and Goretex layers that I usually reserve for skiing trips, poured myself a bottle of hot water, downloaded a new book to my Kindle, and then set off.

By the time I got to Sixth Ave at 7:20, all of the front row spaces within three blocks were already occupied. I couldn’t find a single piece of empty railing to grab onto, so I had to settle with positioning myself just behind a pole and in between two families that had come early and set up tarps to claim the space. If you can’t spend Thanksgiving with your own family, might as well spend it with a family.

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From then on, it was just a waiting game. About twenty minutes in, I realized it was too cold for Kindle reading (at least with the Kindle Paperwhite, which has a touch screen. I knew I would eventually regret not getting the one with the buttons), I didn’t have headphones, and no one in my phonebook was actually awake for a call. I honestly can’t tell you how I got through the next two hours… to be frank, probably mostly by shivering, eavesdropping on other people’s conversations, and passive-aggressively defending my spot. I did chat with one of the families next to me, who came from Long Island and has been in attendance for the parade for the past 7-8 years (now THAT’S dedication), but I learned that while exploring things on your own is an adventure, waiting alone is no fun at all.

The parade started at 9am, but it took a full 40 minutes for the first wacky rollarblading clowns to wind down Central Park West and reach our stretch of Sixth Ave. I have now seen about 700 more clowns than I have ever cared to see, in all sorts of varieties: dressed like traffic signs, old grannies, graduates in gowns, and much much more. But finally what I was really there to witness, all of the floats!

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And the marching bands, but really, just one or two would have been quite enough.

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I really could have done without this one, which came before the Chinese culture/embassy float (I’m not reeeeally sure why China needs representation on Thanksgiving. And really? Those outfits?)

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There were a host of celebrities too, none of whom I recognized except for Nick Jonas and Idina Menzel (and most of whom I missed entirely because I was distracted by their elaborate floats). But they were all saving their performances for the televised portion near 34th street, so all we saw were the smiles and waves.

Because being in the second row was still not enough to make up for my lack of height, I was basically on tip toe for the entire parade. By 10:37, I was already praying for the parade to end so that I could sit down and remember what it felt like to be warm.

Finally, finally, Santa came about an hour later:

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And just like that, we kicked off Thanksgiving and ushered in Christmas! It is now socially acceptable to play Christmas songs on repeat and have Home Alone marathons, which is what I promptly did as soon as my body temperature returned to normal levels back at my apartment.

Next year (and for every year after that) I think I will watch the parade on TV, with the option to plop my butt down into a warm, comfy seat. The broadcast also gives you the best views, which no amount of physical strain or waiting in the cold would have given me at the parade in person.

Still, going to the parade is just one of those items on the bucket list that you have to cross off, just once in your life…but now I’m seriously reconsidering watching the ball drop on New Year’s Eve in Times Square. Maybe there are certain things that you should never attempt, not even once.

Solo Trip to Storm King

Ever since summer barely officially ended, I’ve been dying to travel out of the concrete jungle to see fall in full bloom. Being from Colorado, I don’t have the chance to see many deciduous trees (okay, that’s a bit of a lie…we have a city named Aspen for a reason. But on the whole, there are more coniferous pines. And then just plain desert), so I figured I had to go and see the leaves change in upstate New York.

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None of the other weekends in October worked out, but the leaves are rapidly changing and sliding past peak, so I knew I had to go this past weekend or not at all. Unfortunately, renting a car in Manhattan starts from $200/day and only goes up. But a coworker recommended Storm King, an open-air sculpture museum located an hour and a half upstate and which I could travel to and from with a mere $46 bus ticket. Perfect!

The only problem was that I couldn’t find anyone to go with me. Being the busy New Yorkers we all are, it was impossible to find someone with an entire Saturday free. But companion or not, I was going to go, damn it. At that point, the casual desire to see some pretty leaves had turned into a metaphor for living out my life. What if I just keep saying, “Yeah, it’d be nice, but oh well. Next year” to everything??

Nuh uh. I was going to get my leaves!

And to be honest, I really don’t mind traveling alone…my main source of consternation was that there would be no one to take pictures of me. There, yup. I admit it.

Learning from my previous public transport fiasco, I left a full 30 minutes earlier than necessary to catch my 10am bus. Good thing, too, because Short Line Bus company should be sued for false advertising. What is the point of buying tickets online if you must line up at the ticket window anyway to exchange the online confirmation for physical tickets? And of course I picked the line that took 20 minutes longer than the others, because it was staffed by a woman moved like a glacier, inexplicably took a 10 minute break, and seemed incapable of counting out the $84 given to her by the pair in front of me (thank goodness she didn’t have to give them any change – mixing subtraction with addition could have resulted in another 5 minute delay).

It was quite a relief to finally get on the bus. I found a nice window seat, but gave it up so that a couple who boarded the bus later on could sit together. I figured I could use some good karma after all of the negativity of the morning.

And that is how I met my spontaneous companion for the day, another girl who wanted an adventure and couldn’t find anyone to go with. It was meant to be! And most importantly, the photography problem was solved. 😉

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Storm King is basically a well-curated forest (or maybe Central Park without the crowds and the backdrop of Manhattan’s skyline), peppered with massive abstract statues. It’s big enough that you have to trek a bit to get to the things you want to see, but small enough that you can cover the entire park at a leisurely pace on foot.

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I couldn’t have asked for a better day trip or a more beautiful fall day. So there’s the lesson: if you want to do something, even if you have to do it solo, make it happen! Companionship and fun memories will come.