The Temples of Bagan

Sepia sunset

Ten centuries ago, a vast empty plain in the deep interior of Burma was transformed into a building frenzy of over 10,000 Buddhist temples, pagodas and monasteries. Today, over 2000 of the original structures still remain, a standing testament to the sweeping power and grandeur of the ancient Pagan kingdom.

Busy Myanma Airways flight

The Bagan plateau

Our trip over from Yangon had been a bit stressful; right before boarding our flight to Nyang-U (the main travel hub for the Bagan temples), I happened to read in my two guide books that the airline we were about to take had "worrying statistics and maintenance", and both "strongly" advised against taking flight with this shady service... Needless to say, neither did it help that there were only seven people on board our entire plane. However, despite the risk of motor failure and impending doom, we made it safe and sound with rugged aerial views of the Bagan plateau and dried up leaf-veins of river beds splitting through the countryside. 

Heading out from Nyaung U towards Old Bagan in a rickety pickup trick, I was thrust right into the depths of the crowded van onto a minuscule wooden stool was not adapted for any normally shaped human being. Old women peered in at me curiously and an adorable baby gurgled on its mother's lap, thanakha smeared all over its perplexed face, staring at me with a slightly gormless expression. Then came the inevitable - smiles, questions, smiles, the Burmese trait of opening conversation just for the sake of it, fascinated to know more about the outside world. My friend was lucky and was allowed to ride on top of the van, the upper 'deck' being reserved for men (in Burmese culture, it is considered disrespectful for a woman to physically place herself above a man; I wonder if that's applicable in all situations).

Fitting right in

Sunrise balloons

There is one particular view of that day that has stuck in my mind- our ascent up the Shwe San Daw temple, built in the dry fields south of the Old Bagan walls. From this vantage point, for the first time I truly understood the sheer scale of what was around us; crumbling temples rising for miles, different colors, spires, sizes, shapes, styles, the variety and profundity simply mind boggling, never further than four hundred metres apart. A few temples resembled Gothic mansions, some had a more traditional paya form, bulbous stupas with bell-like domes, others were squared and chunky Mayan pyramids. From up here one could see for miles, up till the river bed of the beige Aywerdaddy River to the distant undulating mountain heads; the afternoon sun was basking everything in a golden glow- glowing terracotta bricks and emerald forests. It wasn't earthly. It was a fairytale land.

Monks looking out from the Shwesandaw temple

Zoom lens from the temple top

Glorious gold pagodas

Temple walls

A dilapidated monastery for sunset watchers

The next day after a pathetic morning spent on the most useless bikes I have ever ridden in my life, getting stuck in the middle of sand banks and crossing thorny scorching fields on foot, we took a lunch break between the temples. A middle-aged woman had animatedly ushered us to her 'restaurant' and later offered to show us her grandmother's house in the local village. The towns were very threadbare; building materials seemed to be only bamboo and woven palm leaves with dusty dirt below. I wondered apprehensively about how they bode during the monsoon season... In the house, the family painted some thanakha on my face so that I could be "More beautiful! Look at how much more beautiful!", but by far the most impressive sight was the grandmother herself. This character was a crouched and weathered old lady, the 86 years of her life etched on her rugged face, sat smoking a reefer that would have put Bob Marley to shame. 

What a grandmother...

My turn

 She showed us the contents of this massive cigar - bamboo leaves inside which was packed tobacco and palm tree bark- and then offered it to me. Understandably curious and eager, I took a puff ("Slowly, slowly!", her granddaughter cautioned); I was pleasantly surprised by how mild and smooth, and also quite sweet tasting, the cigar was. It was much more enjoyable than a cigarette and judging by the vivacity of the woman possibly healthier too. 

Sam, the buffalo farmer