The bus to Hsipaw was a memorable experience. We met at the ticket office at the appointed time of 5:10am to catch a “minibus” to the bus terminal outside the city. We left the office about 20 minutes later in the back of a pick-up truck, in the rain. We made the mistake of taking our anti-malarial pills on an empty stomach and Dewey was on the verge of being sick the whole ride. We arrived at the bus station and crammed onto our local bus. The back 1/3rd of the bus was cargo, and they had even modified the bus so that the seats were a little higher up (towards the roof) and a little closer together so that you had maximal cargo room, minimal knee space and they could even put boxes (or in this case, buckets) under your feet. Space on the rickety old school bus was definitely maximized. We set off for Mandalay along the bumpiest of bumpy roads, stopping to pick up more people and cargo along the way. Just when you’d think we couldn’t fit another person or bag onto the bus, they managed it. The 200 mile trip into the highlands took about 7 hours in all, including a half-hour break for a breakfast of noodle soup at a roadside stand (it was actually one of the best noodle soups we had in Myanmar). The longest part of the drive was a series of tight switchbacks down into a deep ravine, and then back up the other side, where they also happened to be doing road construction (mostly manual labour).
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| Typical water buffalo-drawn cart along the main road in Hsipaw |
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| A surprising sight in Myanmar. The National League for Demoncracy (NLD); the illegal (but still active) non-violent democratic party led by Aung San Suu Kyi. The mere discussion of politics (and democracy) is taboo (as per the ruling military government) in Myanmar. In an internet cafe in Yangon there was even a sign which read stated that all "adult site and politics site" are strictly forbidden. |
We arrived in Hsipaw around 1:00pm and checked into one of the only licensed guesthouses in Hsipaw: Mr. Charles. In Myanmar a hotel, hostel or guesthouse must have a permit to accommodate foreigners (or they can’t let you stay), and then you pay a 12% tax to the government imbedded in the price of your room. We were pretty exhausted from the bus, and Hsipaw doesn’t really feel like a place where you have to run around and do a whole lot, so we were happy to have a relaxing afternoon.
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| Young monks carrying concealed [toy] weapons. A lucky photo caught the toy gun outside his robes, but it was quite bizarre to see. A monk with a gun? |
We did a quick tour of the main street and ate some lunch at Mr. Food (pretty much the only restaurant in town, according to most people). We enjoyed watching the old farm equipment drive by. There seemed to be 3 types of vehicles in town; scooters, big trucks and buses (on its way through), and the oldest-looking farm equipment we’ve ever seen running.
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We then got our books and headed to Black House Coffee, a cute wooden house on the edge of the river with a cement patio in the back and, conveniently, three chairs underneath a shaded awning.
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| View of the river from our reading spot at Black House Coffee |
Dewey and Maria tried the “Pressed Coffee” and I had a lemongrass tea. Not perhaps the best drinks we’ve ever had but they were prepared with care, the two staff were exceedingly friendly and they let us sit on their patio and read all afternoon, no problem. We stayed until it was too dark to read, then headed back to Mr. Food for dinner. There are other restaurants/tea shops in town but even the local staff at the guesthouse didn't recommend trying them. Most of the food in Myanmar is made just once a day, in the early morning, so by the time we would eat it would have sat out most of the day. Cleanliness is apparently an issue as well.
The next morning we rented bikes and (using the hand-sketched map provided by the guesthouse) headed towards the waterfall. Shortly after leaving Maria had to turn back as she was suffering from an upset stomach. Dewey and I tried to continue, but ended up turning back not too much later because the path was not at all suitable for bikes. It was through rice patties, and the water and mud was so deep that even pushing bikes was a challenge. We decided to go somewhere else with the bikes and just walk to the waterfall the next day. When we got back Maria was actually feeling better already so she joined us and the three of us cycled north of town through some small villages to “Little Bagan”, the “Bamboo Buddha”, and the “Teak Monastery”.
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| A tree growing out of the ruins of an old pagoda, near the teak monastery |
On our way back into town we cycled to the local market and wandered around. It was winding down (the busiest time is around 6:00-7:00am), but it was still very interesting and authentic.
Back in time for lunch, and desperate to try something other than Mr. Food we stopped in at a tea shop where we saw them making something fresh. We asked what was being made and he told us to sit, wait, it would be ready in about 20 minutes. We watched then hand stuff and fold dozens of little Chinese steamed buns, then steam them a couple dozen at a time in a large wood-fired steamer.
First the chicken-stuffed ones came off, then 20 minutes later came bean, and finally 20 minutes later came freshly-grated coconut. They were all delicious, and the whole meal was a steal. We drank endless green tea, enjoyed some samosas (not quite as fresh) and ate our fill of Chinese steamed buns and it came to about $1 a person.
After lunch we grabbed out books and headed back to Black House Coffee to sit in the shade during the hottest part of the day and sip cool drinks.
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| The squat toilets at black-house coffee. Luxury compared to some other squat toilets |
Around 4:30pm we set off on our bikes across town, over the river to the base of “sunset hill”. There we parked our bikes and hiked the short 20-minute hike to the top where there was a small monastery, a small pagoda, and plenty of space to enjoy the sunset. For the most part we had the place to ourselves. The monastery was a bit eerie because there were signs of life (freshly-used cooking pots, a robe lying around, a couple cats), but absolutely no monks anywhere.
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| I believe these were laid out as offerings, but they may have just been forgotten. They were on a step behind the little-visited pagoda. |
We headed back down shortly after sunset and there were a group of little kids hanging out by our bikes. They wanted their picture taken and were thrilled to see the pictures on the screen; it was fun to see.
That night in Hsipaw the power went out around 1:00am (leaving Dewey horribly uncomfortable in the heat of our room without the fan) and didn’t come back until after breakfast. The beer and drinks the next day were served warm from the lack of refrigeration over night.
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| "Nuns" (female monks) in traditional attire walking by the market |
The following day we set off on foot towards the waterfall. The map appeared quite detailed but wasn't the easiest to follow because major landmarks that should have been on the map were absent (a large partly constructed road). Luckily you could see the waterfall in the distance so a little guesswork could get you there. We trekked past the local noodle factory, through rice patties and tiny settlements (a few houses in between fields), across a couple creeks, past farmers dragging a single water buffalo, and women harvesting bananas and bathing in the creek, through both the buddhist and muslim cemetaries, past tarps of drying corn, through the local garbage dump, up a hill, to the waterfall.
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| Rice noodles drying outside the noodle "factory" |
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| We held our breath as walked through the smoke from the burning rubble |
We were back in town just in time for Chinese steamed buns at the little teashop again. The owner recognized us and we had pretty much the same fare as the day before, and just as delicious. These are a treat to eat right out of the steamer because you can just tell they won't even be half as good an hour later.
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