Salay – Wednesday, February 14
I wanted to take another short trip out of Bagan today but had made no arrangements. After breakfast I walked outside the hotel gate and ran into Song Song again. By now he thought he was running my affairs. He always seemed to get his fingers into my travel plans.
He asked, “Where do you want to go today?” and then introduced me to a taxi driver, Bosh Shay. As we bargained, Song Song added his own opinion, so it was two against one. In the end I could only get the driver down $2 to $23 for a morning trip to Salay. It’s a small town about 45 minutes south of Bagan. I wanted to see a little more of the countryside and I had heard that Salay didn’t get many visitors.
On the road we saw more school kids walking along. They were all wearing green longyi, which Bosh Shay told me was the standard school uniform. The road was so narrow that whenever we met an oncoming car both of us had to slow down and pull one wheel off the road. We passed through several little villages: the houses had wooden frames and the walls were covered with what looked like woven palm leaves.
In Salay we stopped at an old teak monastery where one of the attendants gave me a little tour of the building and showed me a case of old Burmese books written in gold on palm leaves. Then I walked across the road to see a couple of payas. A little boy who was carrying a bottle of some white liquid (milk?) followed along, but wouldn’t talk.
Farther down a sandy lane there were several old rundown payas and a little village where the woven-sided buildings sat on stilts. Finally, the driver caught up with me and we left. He wanted to head directly back, but I asked to visit the center of the village. He said there wasn’t much to see, but he was wrong.
The streets were covered with the canopy of high trees and there was a lively little market where everyone stopped to stare at me. There were the usual fruit and vegetable vendors. In one stall there was a handsome old man operating a treadle sewing machine. He broke into a huge smile when I asked if I could take his picture. Then we headed back to Bagan.
On the way we stopped in New Bagan to visit another lacquer ware shop, Uba Nyein Handicrafts, where I bought some lacquer cups – 6 for $15. They were delicately engraved in three colors and very lovely. When I got home I wished I had bought more: everybody who saw them wanted one.
Back at the hotel I took the afternoon off. It was starting to get real hot and I had been going pretty steady. As I was sitting around, I realized I hadn’t reconfirmed my flight to Mandalay as I was told to do. I tried to call the air office but the phone was dead. I went to the hotel desk, but they didn’t have any luck either. As time passed I realized that the air office had closed. The desk clerk, who had been making the calls for me, suggested I take the hotel car and visit the air office manager’s home just to make sure.
We drove slowly back to New Bagan and then down several neat side streets to a two-story house. As we walked to the door we could hear loud music playing. “Wait here,” the driver said. He then opened the door and yelled something. A young man came and invited us in. We took our shoes off and stepped inside. There were a couple of teenagers sitting on the floor singing to a TV Karaoke – that’s where the music was coming from. The furnishings were all quite new and wouldn’t have looked out of place in any western home. They invited us to sit down but before we could, a middle-aged woman appeared – the air office manager. She checked her list and then showed me my name was on it.
Before sunset I rented a bike again and rode over to the Bupaya which was a paya located on a bluff overlooking the Ayeyarwady river. There were a few dusty cafes and stands selling food and souvenirs nearby. I stopped for a drink at one café and watched some local kids sing Karaoke. As sunset neared, tour buses appeared and I had to fight for a good vantage point. The hit of the sunset was the lady with the digital camera. She would take a picture and then show it on the little digital display on the back. The Burmese loved this and there was always a small crowd around her.
Back at the hotel, I decided I needed a change. I had seen a little Myanmar restaurant about a half mile back on the main road and I decided to walk over and see what was going on. When I got there I noticed they had a tape player. “Does that work?” I asked the owner. When he nodded yes, I got out my tape. A beer arrived about the same time that Vince Gill started singing, “Kindly Keep It Country.” The owner came back and said, “Country music.” It was a statement and not a question. Apparently I wasn’t the first to stop here.
I sat and drank my beer. I talked to a local taxi driver who stopped in to pick up some food and I wrote in my journal. There were several Myanmar diners too: three young men who avoided eye contact and a young couple who only looked at each other. I talked to the owner’s young son, but his English wasn’t very good.
It was pitch black outside the open-sided café. More horse carts and bikes drove past than cars. A couple of skinny dogs wandered around looking for scraps. Finally, I retrieved my tape and walked back the dark road to the hotel. In the distance I could see that some of the payas were lit with spotlights. The night was cool and starry. I was very happy but also sad: tomorrow I would be leaving. I was off to Mandalay.
Mandalay »
