Bagan, Myanmar, must be the cathedral for all Buddhas. With over 3000 pagodas in 40 square miles, there are so many relics buried here (of course one rarely sees the relics no matter what religion, so it is a “faith-based” concept) that holiness flies through the air on what little breeze there is. There are also “nats” or spirits which are in you and on you to make life good or bad, and there are even holy fish which flop up on the beach, an event much revered by villagers who stuff the fish’s mouth with rice and press gold leaf on his fins and some kind soul pours water on him to keep it alive until it flops back into the sea none the worse for wear. However, woe to him who eats one of these unnamed sea creatures. Life will be negative.
![]() |
3 types of eggplant |
![]() |
rub this on your cheek |
![]() |
Buying a longhee |
Bagan is a dusty, dry country town where motorcycle is the mode again. Market prices are much cheaper than other areas because the Burmese natives here are agrarian and bring their produce from the fields close-by. Hot off the airplane, we went at the early hour to the real market. The selection of vegetables, greens, fish, and clothing on sale was fascinating: orange bamboo shoot, three kinds of eggplant, gourds, more garlic and shallot than a ton of gravel, tamarind leaf and bark, thanaka logs, strange green herbs, bright green tumeric leaf, manioc root, Toddy palm sugar from the Toddy palm tree, strange bitter cucumbers, beetel nuts (even the royalty chewed this bitter seed often mixed with other ingredients to give it a flavor) and more baby potatoes than rice.
![]() |
Giant Parasol on the way |
I was quickly accessed by a pair of women with the butter colored thanaka paste on their cheeks and a blue silk longhee held out to wrap me in. In ten seconds they had me dressed as a local, and believe you me, every person not foreign wears the longhee wrap skirt, man (wears cotton) , woman (wears silk), or child (same). It’s really quite appealing. Hard to turn down such confidence. Buy from one, however, and a war happens as everyone has a bargain and are sure you will crack and buy another. Finally we pushed our way out and began the day in Bagan by stopping at the enormous one to two story hotel flowing through flowering trees and small temples on the Ayeyarwaddy River bluffs.
As we drive through the ancient Tharaba Gate 849 A.D.with a “nat” spirit on each side, a brother and sister, and dedicated to Min Maha Giri, I discover that inside this gate remnant and wall all residencies had been removed for historical reconstruction needs. Now there are only four large tourist hotels nestled inconspicuously along the dusty dirt road and river. My guide’s family was one of the 6000 who were abruptly relocated - given two weeks to get out - and were placed south of Bagan near a fancy pagoda. He showed us the tree that was once in his yard. Most houses in this town are made of bamboo with thatched roofs and boats are teak wood. There is a private mansion a few yards down from my hotel, built on the river bluffs that speaks of a Bel Air magnate - huge gray concrete with green reflecting windows and more room than a Hilton. It is owned by the brother of the deeply loved political leader Aung San Suu Kyi.
![]() |
Buddha at Ananda Temple |
![]() |
On the Ayeyarwaddy River |
![]() |
Ananda Temple |
Mahbodhi temple is Hindu and is decorated in pyramid type layers with 465 sitting and standing Buddhas. Htilominlo - two story red brick temple built 1211 - contains four giant gold buddhas, each facing a cardinal direction . Two are originals, two have been replaced. There are Gothic style arches here too. The comparisons to the huge brick temples at My Son in Vietnam come to fore. In Bagan it’s more then number of the spires that cover the landscape that you can see, one right after another, some much taller than others.
I couldn’t sweat any longer and after a stop at the parasol factory (umbrellas are a part of one’s wardrobe here to protect from the heat), we had a quick trip on a boat down the Ayeyarwaddy River, with a rain storm looming - it never showed up - and a private show of amazing Burmese puppetry (the normal kind) dressed in elaborate costumes while I munched on butter fish and the Bagan style spring roll.
It’s good to have a foot massage at the end of the day to wipe off whatever attached itself to one’s feet in their nude moments, and maybe a moment to remove what attached to my spirit through meditation. Foot massages are good for whatever reason.
1 comment:
Audrey,
Bagan,no doubt, is an interesting place, but sounds like you endured heat and other hardships to go there. Remember, next year you have to go to some exotic,luxury resort where you can be pampered every day.
Your blogs are so detailed and full of unbelievable information. You should write a book about your amazing adventure.
We'll be glad when you are home. Miss you!
Love,
Geraldean and Judge
P.S. It is 62 degrees and a beautiful day in Memphis. Supposed to be cooler this weekend.
Post a Comment