Bagan
All that glitters is not gold. In central Myanmar, lie the mystic plains of Bagan. Before I traveled to South East Asia, I had never heard of anyone visiting. Truth be told, if it weren’t for Bagan I don’t know if I ever would have visited.
The country is known as the golden land. At first it seemed like the kind of meaningless name that a place just picks up. But after spending several sunrises in the plains of Bagan, I now know that this place is different. The light that penetrates the dusty air and shimmers on the stone pagodas could only be described as golden.
As we drove in the darkness on our borrowed electric scooter, we could smell the locals starting their fires. We felt the cold wind gently giving resistance to our ride into the plains. We could hear the local music being played to greet the sun, only occasionally interrupted by the crow of a rooster. Mandalin, harp, singing and rooster – a somehow calming combination.
After 20 minutes of driving, we arrived at our temple of choice and climbed up its steep stairway. The sounds of fellow travellers whispering quietly in their respective languages brought on a new energy of excitement for what we would witness soon. Everyone staked out their own viewing place on the pagoda.
As we sat perched on our chosen ledges, we soaked in the sounds and smells, waiting for the sun. Slowly, the horizon turned blue. The blue melted into a purple. The purple ever so gradually became orange. The skies brightness and our anticipation increased exponentially, minute to minute. Then suddenly it all shown a color one could only describe as gold. It streamed through the morning haze and bright brown clouds of dust. It struck the hot air balloons, already on their daily trip across the plains, before it finally hit those dazzling stone pagodas. This gold can’t be measured in carats.
When visiting these temples, it was clear that many were still active places of worship. Our shoes were removed and our voices hushed. Appropriate body parts covered. No streaking here.
We were some of the lucky few tourists to be able to take a hot air balloon ride over the plains. Seeing the gold from above is a privilege few tourists receive. A new angle, inaccessible to most, brought on a different appreciation for the beauty of this place. Though the experience was incredible, there are not nearly as many balloons as in a place like Cappadocia. Perhaps two dozen at the most. The price therefore is dramatically more expensive.
More than anything, the people were the gems that perfectly complimented this land. Friendly, welcoming and always quick to take advantage of any opportunity to practice their English. Sadly, this is a country with some not so well kept secrets of human rights violations and abuses. We can only hope this ends soon.
Not far from Bagan, the Rohingya muslims are being ejected from the country. In a place as incredible as Bagan, its easy to forget the very real brutality going on so close. One can’t have some sense of guilt at the ability to indulge in a hot air balloon ride while a native population is brutalized so close by.