Family Gatherings....

Liddy
So, we are back in Thailand now and have met up with the first part of the extended Pleasants clan that are gathering for Christmas.

We got back from Myanmar about a week ago and spent several days in Bangkok fattening the children up after the rigours of Myanmar and quenching our adult craving for cappucinos and lattes. We also spent a day at Siam City Park which is a massive water / theme park. The idea was just to go to the pool and the waterslides but it turned out that it was a public holiday and everything was free once you had paid to go in, so we couldn't resist going on some rides. Mike was determined to pretend that he isn't pushing forty, and went on the two scariest rides. The second, the 'vortex', he tried to persuade me to go on and I initially agreed to have a go, but after waiting in line for about 20 minutes, watching this insanely scary roller coaster whirling over my head, my stomach literally liquified and I chickened out. I figure that at 35 I am entitled to admit that I no longer enjoy terrorising myself. Mike put a brave face on it, but truth be told, he was a little quiet for a while after getting off.

Anyway, we then boarded an overnight bus and came down south to Krabi where we met up with Kathie (Mike's sister), Alistair (the brother in law), Tilda and Sebastian (the cousins). The kids hit it off within minutes and have quickly become inseperable......clearly Meg and Sam are relishing having company other than each other. Yesterday we went on a long tail boat (read, a long wooden boat with outboard motor) to an island where we spent the day on the beach. It was gorgeous - steep karst cliffs covered in jungle, white sand and beautifully clear, warm water. LUSH. Truly felt like a holiday.

Now our bus has arrived so I have to go....we are off to Khao Sok, a national park. Back in a few days......

Winners and Losers

Mike
So sports fans, scores on the doors [ so to speak ].

Nominations for best Myanmar illness or injury ;

Sammy with 35 [ that’s right, 35 ] mosquito bites attained when Mummy and Daddy decided to slum at a truck stop on our first night cycling up country. He must be very tasty. Oh, and no one else was bitten though we were all on the same bed / futon ?/ very strange.

Meggy with a cut lip and nose caused when she fell over whilst running along a Main St in Nyaung Shwe with both hands in her pockets. She claimed she was cold [ It was 25 degrees at least ]

Liddy with a 4 hour flu [ read ‘Hot Flush’ ] after a morning ride near Inle Lake. Daddy and Sammy suspected this was only a means of facilitating an afternoons’ slumber. She felt ‘OK’ after 5 hours ‘Alone Time’.

Megs’ 24 Hr illness that propagated the saying what goes down must come back up [ violently ]. Mike suspects it was Liddys’ fault asking Meggles to partake of some roadside BBQ fish. I won’t say I told you so. Of course Liddy strenuously denied this was the cause, though the postscript to this is that we have now all had it, one after another, all the way back to Bangkok. Thanks Team.

But the winner is Mike, who managed to sit on a cracked toilet seat in Saigang and gave himself quite a cut on his left buttock for the next 2 weeks or so. It made riding a bicycle very VERY uncomfortable.

Other Casualties & Stats ;

1 Mikes’ shorts. These required regular running repairs [ He finally binned them in Bangkok yesterday, they almost walked to the trash can by themselves ]
600 km by Bike 
32 km per day on actual cycling days [ nice one teams ]
20 pounds per day average room costs [ Sorry, I thought Myanmar was supposed to be cheap _ hmmm rethink ]
12 Punctures [ would you believe 9 in one day : this def requires explanation _ perhaps another time ]
125 Bottles of water [ Not that we were counting or anything ]

3 Bottles of sun cream [ Ohhh and these were scraped from other would be tourists after we lost ours _ so probably 5 would be a better equation ]
1 Watch [ Mike was very annoyed … bugger, bugger bugger ]

4 Bottles of mosquito repellent [ Special mention to Sagaing's little monsters ]
12 Books [ and still going - Mike is keeping a list ]
1 Pair of flip flops [ Mike ]
1 Pair of sandals [ Meg _ probably now adorning the cab of the truck as a souvenir ]
5 Spokes [ tell me again how you break 5 spokes Liddy ? ]
1 Tag along tire [ Now this was a surprise, we woke and there was a massive puncture ]
1 Pump [ & no it was not frustration _ it just broke ]
1 Tag along tire tube [ Mike suspected hotel sabotage at this point or Sammy just didn't want to cycle any longer _ one of the 2 ]
1 Set of contacts [ Classically Mike had left his extra set in Yangon ]
1 Head of hair [ due to Mikes’ inexpert attempt at explaining to a Kalaw barber that yes, short was good and start short from here….. 1 very bald, very very short buzz cut later ]
1 Out of control Oxen last seen rampaging down the Main St of Inthein [ Still running most likely _ that beast was moving and not at all happy ]
1 Out of control horse [ This passed the group on the road from Inle lake and was motoring _ it was finally rounded up a further 3 k down the road with all cyclists keeping a wary eye in case it doubled back ]

 

A Life in the Day of....

Liddy
So, I thought that I'd write up a day from a couple of weeks ago, as a taster of what we have been up to since Mandalay.

We set off in the morning from Kyaukse, a small dusty highway town (where there is no accommodation licenced for foreigners.....we had dealt with this by finding a hotel and then refusing to budge, and in the end the police were called and gave us special dispensation to stay). Our destination was Pindaya, about 100 miles away and clearly too far for us to cycle, so the plan was to ride / hitch and see how we got on. Mike was a little apprehensive, which I thought a bit strange given the gay abandon with which he had embraced being dumped in Meiktila in the middle of the night for our first day of cycling (see earlier post). I was rather less apprehensive - I have this refrain going round in my head that my friend Mango wrote in an email at the start of our trip - 'it is Asia, something always happens'. I figured we'd find something easily enough.

The first 10km or so were on the main highway but we then headed off on a side road. On our map (which has already proven its fallibility by having the scale out by a factor of two) the 'side road' was a major highway and I had confirmed this with the manager of our hotel, who had assured me that yes, it was a red (ie major) road and yes, it was in good condition.

That was a bald faced lie.

The standard of the road was not a great problem at first, and we meandered along dodging the pot holes and enjoying the scenery of lush paddy fields, thick verdant palms and a backdrop of hazy blue hills. After another 10km or so, Mike suggested that we stop for a rest / cup of tea. Just then, a truck pootled in to view (the first that we had seen going in our direction) and we decided to try and hitch a little way. I stopped my bike in the middle of the road so that the truck had no option but to stop and then edged off and looked plaintively in the window and asked for a lift. He looked dubious but I mimed that the kids were very tired and he agreed to take us on to a village called Myo Gyi. The kids and I jumped up front; Mike and the bikes went in the back. This proved to be in the nick of time as the road quickly deteriorated and we lurched from side to side over the rocky surface.


The view from the windows was beautiful and soon we were in a wide river valley with fields of rice on each side. The peace and serenity was marred somewhat by a number of large yellow dumpers and diggers pounding at great speed up the opposite side of the river towards the head of the valley (cue great excitement from the kids). We guessed that they were building a dam or something similar - either way, the access road was clearly in significantly better shape than ours.

After 20-30 minutes we pulled in to a truck stop and the driver indicated that he wasn't going any further. We regrouped and got out a map. The next town, Yengang, looked a fair distance further on and the road was shocking. A young man at the truck stop had greeted us in English; he was travelling to Taungyi (beyond our destination) by car and I collared him to ask some questions. It transpired that Yengang was 35 miles away that there were no buses or trucks that travelled along the road.

By this stage I was a little nervous. It was nearly 10.30 (ie approaching the heat of the day) and 35 miles was pretty much our maximum even on a good road. This one was far from good. But Mike seemed quite cavalier (note the switching attitudes between us!) and we set off. We got through the village and headed out the other side when we heard a lorry coming up behind us (don't be fooled into thinking that there were many of these; this was the first). We decided to try for a lift for a little way so I flagged it down (its always me that does the flagging). They stopped and agreed to take us. Again Mike and the bikes were loaded in the rear whilst the kids and I climbed up front. The cab was immaculate and we were instructed to take off our shoes and climb on to the cushioned seat behind the driver. Decorations covered the interior - blue and yellow tassels around the windscreen, small shiny Christmas decorations, a yellow lacy heart and two plastic owls sitting within a golden plastic heart. We got ourselves comfortable and the lorry started.

For the next 7 hours the kids and I watched the journey unfold from the relative comfort of the cab. Mike had rather a different time out the back but I'll let him tell that story. Suffice to say that he could scarcely move the following day from being so battered and bruised.

Within minutes of the drive starting, the road started to climb and climb. It very quickly became apparent that we would have struggled on the bikes; or to be more exact, we would have had a major problem. The road was appalling and we inched our way upwards, the truck jolting and careering all over the place. Up we climbed, on and on and on, the view mesmerising, of hill after forested hill. We had one near miss when a jeep came rocketing around a corner and the driver had to slam on his breaks; the stop was abrupt and I was nervous about Mike in the rear; grisly images played through my mind, but as he later said, I didn't do anything about them.

There were no houses and no villages - this a first in Myanmar as every other road has had shops every few km where you can stop for bottled water or tea. We thought back to the truck stop - they had pressed two bottles of water, a cake and some bread on to us and wouldn't accept any payment......clearly they had known of the dirth of options up ahead for weary cyclists!

Eventually as we neared the top there was a road side restaurant - we never would have made it all the way on our bikes. A couple of vehicles had passed us going in the opposite direction but in the time that we spent having lunch, no others appeared going either way. We were very relieved not to be stuck half way up (or, realistically, about a tenth of the way up) rapidly running out of options.

Back in the truck and then a little higher until we went round a final bend, past a hilltop temple, and we crested the top, a pass as it turned out. The view was magnificent and dramatically different from that we had passed through previously. On the way up we had seen only densely wooded hills. Now there was a wide plateau, the earth a rich red colour and the fields a patchwork of yellows, creams, greens and red. On each side of the road were stands of big yellow daisies interspersed with avenues of eucalypts. Bullock carts passed us, their drivers standing fully upright like Roman charioteers.

We started to descend and continued to do so for mile after mile. I was hankering to get back on the bikes - the road had improved on this more populated side of the hills, and I vaguely considered asking the driver to stop so we could continue on two wheels. It was a good job that I didn't as the road deteriorated again and the journey went on and on. Eventually, about three hours after we had clambered on board, we arrived in Yengan. Three hours for 35 miles - it gives an indication of the standard of the road.

Luckily the truck was continuing in our direction and the driver agreed to take us almost all the way to our destination. Finally, finally we came to a stop at about 5.15 and the driver let us off, the kids and I all in one piece (except that Meggie had lost a croc), Mike rather less in one piece and in rapidly declining humour. We cycled the last five miles into Pindaya and collapsed into bed, all too exhausted to do anything else.

Hanging with the Yangon Youth

Liddy
On our last day in Yangon we decided that the children needed a 'kid day' so we headed for a water park that we had heard about in an 'off the beaten track' guidebook to Burma. It was a water park, Burmese style - a couple of small pools which might have seen chlorine back in the 60s, no changing rooms, a couple of slides most of which were closed off, very tatty, lots of rubbish and as far as the children were concerned, PARADISE.
It was immediately obvious that the rather foxy (I wish) bikini that I had with me was not the done thing - everyone other girl was fully clothed, as were half of the boys, so I wrapped a sarong around me and headed in with the kids, leaving Mike on the side with our stuff. There were loads of kids around, aged about 10 and upwards, mostly the 'cool gang'.
After a while I got out to sit with Mike where we could watch the children, Sam having befriended a boy of about 9, who was playing really nicely with him, whilst Meg just pottered. A young guy in low slung jeans and a huge cap at a jaunty angle sidled up to us. He asked Mike if we have any rappers in our country.
Mike clearly not in tune with the local youth speak, answered 'Rivers, yes we have many rivers in our country'.
I corrected him then offered MC Hammer which apparently was not a very impressive offering and pinned me neatly as the mid-30s woman that I am.
Mike then tried to come up with some more recent bands but struggled beyond 50 Cent and Eminem (we are soooo hip). They then played with Mike's ipod for a bit before Mike pointed out a guy on the other side of the pool with black nail varnish, tight black jeans and a Nazi badge on the thigh.
'That's a punk' said the rapper.
'What's a bank' said Mike.
'No, PUNK'
'Bank???'
Communication was struggling...I intervened.
Next a girl came over. She must have been about 15 with thick black eyeliner and three nails in each ear. She tried to feed Meg some whisky then ambled off.
'That's a sexy girl', said the rapper. ' S-E-X-Y' (Clearly he realised that he needed to spell difficult words). 'Do you have sexy girls in your country?'.
Mike looked at me and said 'That's my sexy girl' (oooh the romance...)
The guy looked a bit surprised.
'No, I mean sexy girl. You know. A-I-D-S.
Aaahh. Clearly sexy girl had different connotations in Myanmar.

There were loads of different 'gangs'. The sexy girls, the banks (punks), rivers (rappers), the ones with multiple piercings, the ones with dyed red hair, the tattoes, the ones a little bit too old to still be hanging round the pool etc. Every so often they would traipse to the water slides and a macho fest would ensure with each trying to outdo the others coming down the slide. I had a go at one point and my sarong came flying off so that was the end of that. The undoubted winner was a guy in his late teens, very buff and easy on the eye, who could run half way down the slide at full tilt, then slide the rest of the way down before skimming right across the plunge pool.

Rock 'ard.

Behind the Scenes

Liddy........Tasha, my little sister, wanted some detail about the practicalities of our travels so I thought I'd write a more mundane blog entry about life on the road, which many may wish to skip!

First question was how Mike and I are finding travelling together. Luckily this is going well and we seem to have settled upon a mutually agreeable attitude towards what we do. We tend towards the more basic end of the travelling spectrum (have now abandoned the Lonely Planet's midrange accommodation section and are firmly in the budget hotels). This means we are spending 15-20 dollars a night and Sam and Meg are getting accustomed to sharing a bed. We started them off top to tail but they didn't enjoy that so they are now up at the same end and the nightly fighting over whose legs go where is getting shorter. Sam has taken to waking up in the middle of the night and shouting random words (last night it was green beans, then he keeled over and went back to sleep) whilst Meg is perfecting the art of falling out of bed and remaining fast asleep on the floor.

We are sharing the chores, the main one of which is washing the children's clothes, which is a mightily boring task, let me tell you. I have to confess that they are not absolutely spic and span all the time. Neither are dry at night (though Sam is finally heading in the right direction) and although the local method is just to let them wet the bed, we don't really feel able to do this so both of them are in a washable nappy. These are enormous great things and whilst we are feeling very proud of our minimal environmental impact, they do take up half a pannier between them and most days see me cycling along with a bright pink thing flapping around on the back of my bike in an effort to get it dry!

Rows have so far been at a minimum though the Pleasants family travel on their stomach, so we all go a bit quiet / grumpy in the hour or so before we manage to find food.

Luckily we both seem to agree on what is a good amount of cycling to do each day. Our philosophy is definitely that it is meant to be fun and not a route march. Our ideal daily cycling distance is perhaps 30-40km which may not sound a lot but is enough for us once you factor in the kids, the panniers and the heat. We have tried to work out how much we are both carrying but this always descends into banter about who is carrying more and is therefore fitter / working harder (not that we are a competitive bunch). In truth I suspect that Mike has the heavier load but I figure that this is compensated by the fact that Sam 'helps' to a certain extent whilst fatty puffs Meggles just sits there and chats away singing 'wind the bobbin up'.

Next question was about the food. This is good but Burmese fare is not up there with the other Asian greats. We are eating a LOT of fried rice and fried noodles which are tasty but not wildly exciting. The Burmese have much the same attitude towards garlic as the French and so we all permanently stink but it seems to help keep us healthy. Generally though, it is a cross between Thai, Chinese and Indian, without being quite as good as any of those. The Chinese influence, particularly up here in the north of Myanmar, is pronounced with Chinese music, TV and restaurants everywhere.

Someone else asked me about the toilets. These are Western style in hotels and squat everywhere else. Mike has discovered that he can't squat so very conveniently, is unable to hold Meggles over the loo. Both Sam and Meg seem to be coping with this set-up fine although the other day Sam wanted to show me how he could 'flush' a squat with the bowl of water next to the loo, and ended up splashing number twos all over himself and then falling over in the loo in his consternation. Charming.

Last question was about whether we have met many other travellers. This answer to this is an emphatic no. In Bangkok there were a few other people with kids but we weren't really in the mood. In Myanmar, in the majority of places that we have been to, we haven't seen any other foreigners. Obviously in Bagan and Mandalay there are other people around but really not many at all, especially when compared to other countries in the region. I read somewhere that from January to September this year, there were only 4800 British visitors to Myanmar (plus about 5500 French and 6000 Germans); given that this must include business people, it is perhaps not surprising that we haven't met a whole load of travellers. Also, I guess that we are not a very enticing proposition to most backpackers so perhaps people don't come our way.

That's it for now. Mike is writing a post but after this we will probably be offline for another couple of weeks.

The Road to Mandalay

From Bagan we headed north again. First stop was a small village called Pakkoku which is on the banks of the Irawaddy. It was a great road with a smooth surface and a beautiful ride through rural scenery. Pakkoku was on the other side of the river so we had to cross on a ferry. This was a source of great excitement to the kids as we were able to sit up on the captain's bridge during the crossing. Sam loved watching what was happening, Meg loved being away from the hundreds of people who continually want to pinch her chubby (though decreasingly so) arms and touch her hair. She can't bear the attention and is having endless tantrums over being constantly badgered.

Pakkoku is a small dusty town and after riding rather aimlessly around it for a while, looking for a place to stay, we eventually found a small 'inn', run by a delightful English speaking matriarch and her daughter. It was very basic but there was a litter of new puppies and kittens and the kids spent a happy afternoon playing with them away from the attention.

The following day we decided we had had enough riding and would take a bus north. Our bikes were loaded up top and we clambered inside on top of sacks of rice and plonked ourselves down on broken seats for the six hour journey north to Sagaing, the spiritual capital of Myanmar.

The bus ride was great – the speakers blared out Burmese versions of Western songs (Santana, Celine Dion etc etc), the scenery was pleasant, and it was nice not to be riding. On the outskirts of Sagaing there was a tremendous crunching sound and it turned out that some crucial part of the rear wheel brakes had fallen off (Mike knows the technical name but he's babysitting so you'll have to just imagine).  Basically it was a large wheel sized disc that looked pretty important to me. The driver's assistant got out the most laughably small spanner and we all piled out of the bus whilst smoke billowed all around us. After about ten minutes of everyone peering under the bus, the spanner remaining unused, it was decided that we should just carry on, so we climbed back in and off we went, at a greatly reduced pace.

Sagaing was lovely and we spent a great day exploring temples and pagodas and climbing to the top of a hill for a fabulous view back over the town and the Irrawaddy. The only snag was that half way up the hill (quite some ascent with more than 400 steps) both Mike and Sam were struck with simultaneous stomach cramps and seriously impacted on their karma by finding a nearby bush each. Mike then had to carry Princess Meg up the steps so regained some karma in this way.

We are now in Mandalay. Great name conjuring up wonderful images, but the reality (thus far at least) is of a sprawling noisy city. More when we have further explored............

Bagging Temples in Bagan

Next stop was a place called Bagan, premier destination in Burma and one of the most magical places I have ever been to. It easily ranks alongside the great historic sites elsewhere in Asia. Google some pictures of it and you will see what I mean. Essentially it is a huge plain that is covered with well over 2000 temples, dating back 800 years. The setting is beautiful - all green fields of corn and rice, dotted with red brick temples and golden domed pagodas.

We spent five days here, cycling along small tracks to see the temples, watching sunset from the temple terraces, relaxing by the hotel pool (figured that we needed a bit of luxury after the previous couple of days) and filling the kids up on spaghetti bolognese and cheese sandwiches. (Food continues to be a challenge as Meg will not eat even a  grain of rice and neither of them will touch a noodle. Scurvy is only narrowly being avoided by the purchase of the odd apple.)

We also had our first puncture in Bagan. Mike had decided to be adventurous and follow a small goat track through the ruins. Great idea, but unfortunately the track was covered in thorns and within about three metres, he had punctured his wheels ten times. We missed our first sunset repairing those....