Myanmar 2001: Mt Popa

Mt Popa – Tuesday, February 13

With Song Song’s help, I arranged for a car to take me to Mt. Popa in the morning. The half-day trip cost $25. Song Song told me that the driver was his brother but I suspect he was using that term with the widest possible meaning. At one point the day before he had told me he would treat me like his brother. He was a real hustler.

Anyway, a lanky, young man with shoulder-length, black hair picked me up at 8:00am – he didn’t look at all related to Song Song. As we headed southwest out of Bagan, past payas and sandy fields, I was disappointed to find out that he didn’t speak much English. Later, as we rolled passed palm trees and more sandy fields, I realized it would be a perfect time to listen to a little country music. I got out my tape and asked the driver (I never did learn his name) if the tape player worked.

At first we listened quietly and then we each started turning it up a little until it was playing nice and loud. The windows were open, a warm breeze blew in, and we were sailing across the Burmese countryside. School kids with shoulder bags and women with loads balanced on their heads walked along the edge of the road. Chickens and dogs scattered in our wake. Ah, perfect.

I saw a couple of small mills along the road – they were powered by buffalo turning a wheel around and around. I asked the driver to pull over. When we got out he left the door open and the tape playing – I believe Johnny Paycheck was singing, “Apartment Number Nine.” The mill was grinding palm seed into oil – which was also for sale at a little stand.

More interesting was the palm sugar candy. As we stood watching, one of the locals scampered up a palm tree with a small clay pot hanging from his belt. He climbed up barefoot and without the aid of a ladder. I was amazed at the ease with which he made his assent.

At the top there was a small tap in the tree with a can hanging on it to collect the sap. He poured the contents into his pot and scampered down again. Back off the road a short ways was a kitchen where they were boiling the sap, to make it into a thick syrup, much the way maple syrup is made in New England. By now several other taxis had stopped and we were all treated to some palm candy while Conway Twitty sang to us from the car.

It’s only about an hour drive to Mt. Popa and you see it long before you get to it. It’s the core of an extinct volcano and it rises abruptly from the surrounding hills. There was a little settlement at the foot with various souvenir and food shops. There were also several monastery and religious buildings. It was a lively and colorful place.

I was actually a little bit apprehensive about climbing Mt. Popa. Not because it was high, but because it must be done barefoot. It’s the sacred home of what is known as Nats – spirits. I have a problem with my left foot and have a special support in that shoe. Yesterday, I had done fine walking and climbing the payas barefoot, but today I would be several hours with no shoes. I didn’t know what to expect.

There were two giant elephants statues at the entrance to Mt. Popa: that’s where I left my shoes. There were also vendors selling food for the monkeys that live at the base of the mountain and others selling various religious offerings, such as flowers and incense. The stairs were covered so at least I was out of the sun: it was starting to get hot. I bought some food for the monkeys and started slowly up.

There were more Burmese than foreigners making the climb and there was a festive atmosphere – there was a lot of laughing and talking as we climbed together. At first the stairs were gradual, but they quickly became quite steep. There should be no problem for even the poorest climbers as there are plenty of places to sit along the way. You can also buy a can of pop or just sit and feed the monkeys, as I did.

After about 45 minutes I reached the top where there was a spectacular view of the surrounding country. The buildings, on the other hand, were a bit of a let down. They were crudely built and in poor repair.

I sat at the top for awhile watching people make offerings to the Nats. After about a half-hour, I headed back down. The only problem I had with my feet was my tendency to scrape the back of my heel on the steps on the way down. I had to put on a few Band-Aids later, but no lasting damage was done.

After I retrieved my shoes, I walked around the village and took some more pictures. Then I found my driver and we headed back to Bagan with Buck Owens blaring and a hot wind blowing. There were more bikes and ox carts on the narrow road than cars.

Back at the hotel I had a great Chinese lunch at the outdoor dining room – it’s on a bluff overlooking the Ayeyarwady river, and reason enough to stay at the Thande. After lunch I rented a bike for the rest of the day for 300 Kyat. Among the many payas I stopped at I was the only visitor at several – there weren’t even vendors. Finally, I rode down a sandy track to the Mingalazdi Paya, another popular sunset destination. There I met the first Americans on the trip – a young couple who had just arrived from Calcutta. We swapped travel tales while watching the sun set and the sky darken.

That evening I sat at the hotel’s outdoor restaurant again and drank several beers while I captured the days events in my journal.

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