Mandalay Part Two – The Amazing Race – Mandalay, Myanmar

Mandalay Part Two - The Amazing Race
Mandalay, Myanmar

The next morning I was up early and back on the bike. I had a lot of ground to cover. I intended to hit Mingon and Amarapura, two “ancient cities” on the outskirts of Mandalay and tack on visits to two more religious sites that I may or may not be required to sneak into, so I needed to utilize every minute of daylight.

“Bus” I gorged on a forgettable Chinese dinner while reminiscing on my action packed Myanmar travels. Though I had only been in the country for six days by this point, it felt like weeks, due in large part to the fact that I had been reluctantly awake for the lion’s share of the trip - I silently thanked whichever Myanmar government stooge that had approved the import of Red Bull, without which I’d have already collapsed into an exhaustion fueled, sobbing nervous breakdown. My time with Toe and the comforts of Motherland Inn II seemed like an eternity ago. Not surprisingly I was noticeably starting to hit empty, travel stamina-wise. The high pace, repeated bouts of night travel, the physical beating I was taking on said night travel and the resulting sleeplessness, was wearing me down on all fronts, most notably my patience for people and my tolerance for noise and crowds. I pitifully hoped that Bagan would offer up the opportunity to amass a little extra sleep and recuperate from my draining big-city sensory overload.

I checked out of the Royal Guesthouse - despite me arriving at 4:30 a.m. the previous day, they only charged me for one night! Wonderful guys! - and after some extended, shameless loitering in their lobby, I went out and made the day of one of the 10 or so glum trishaw drivers sitting out in front and appointed him usher me and my bags to the train station. Predictably, the 10:00 p.m. Mandalay to Bagan government-run, and therefore inexcusably inept, train service left after 1:00 a.m. and I was devastated to see that my US$9, “Upper Class” ticket that LP promised would get me into a reclining bucket seat, only bought me half of a maliciously designed wooden bench, with a bread slice-thin pad for my comfort. This indignity and the rattling, spine grinding train kept me miserably awake and in pain for the entire nine hours to Bagan.