“Not so much – because of transportation limitations. While you may have the opportunity to jet-set around the world, many Burmese only travel by ox cart – which clearly limits your marriage options.” And apparently women have all kinds of rights within a Burmese marriage. They, for instance, control the family’s finances.
After lunch, there were more temples to visit. At this rate I’ll be enlightened and fly off to Nirvana before dinnertime.
Then my guide packed me off in a horse cart to ride down dirt trails past even more stupas. “There are 2,800 stupas, pagodas and temples here,” said my guidebook.
“My horse’s name is Rambo,” said the man driving my cart. Then I watched the sun set over Bagan from the top of a very tall stupa. And when we drove back to the hotel, Rambo really turned to. I was impressed. He almost cantered. And back at the hotel, I checked my e-mail, ate dinner, went to bed and slept for ten hours.
December 12, 2008: “Today we are going to visit a typical Burmese village and the village’s primary school,” said my guide. On my tour of the school’s first-grade classroom, I discovered that the children were already studying English. “If a child shows promise in school, his or her whole village will pool their funds and try to send that child off to university,” said my guide. “It costs a thousand dollars to make it through university.” That’s a lot of money to come up with in a village where some people live for approximately one year on less than $100.
“This class’s teacher is from this village. The villagers paid for her education and now she teaches here.”
“How much does she get paid per month?”
“$30.”
Then I walked across the road to the village itself and I’m here to tell you that, “It takes a whole village to raise $1,000.” And in fact I have no idea how they managed it. We’re talking cows and chickens and no running water and no electricity. Ox carts and goats. Picturesque as hell but definitely at subsistence level. And this village is better off than most because of the tourists who come to see the temples and stupas of Bagan. But the villagers seemed to be fairly happy. And there was no military presence there either. Actually, I think I’ve only seen one soldier since I’ve been in the country.
Next I went of a lacquerware “factory” – consisting of several low-lying tables where artisans worked, sitting on mats. “First you weave a basket with horsehair and bamboo, then cover it with layers of lacquer and then paint designs on the top. The designs are painted in reverse – like in silkscreening – and then gold paint is layered over that.” We learned a lot more about the lacquering process but I forgot what.
At the factory’s showroom, I fell in love with a little lacquer ring-box which was black with gold patterns – only five dollars! But then in an act of complete generosity I gave it to my guide. But then I got overcome with attachment and greed, bought another one just like it and traded with the guide. I’m a bad person.
“If I wanted to retire here, is it possible?”
“Yes. I think there’s a visa fee of $200 a year but you can live like a queen here.” I could even get a maid! And air conditioning during the summer? “Sure.”
“Maybe I could join a nunnery here,” I mused, “but then I’d have to cut off all my hair and my daughters would win our hair-growing contest.”
“No, you would not have to cut your hair.” Hmmm.
More good stuff – I went off to see yet another gold-plated Buddha and took a sunset cruise under a full moon on the Irrawaddy River. It’s gonna be hard to leave Bagan tomorrow.
After lunch, there were more temples to visit. At this rate I’ll be enlightened and fly off to Nirvana before dinnertime.
Then my guide packed me off in a horse cart to ride down dirt trails past even more stupas. “There are 2,800 stupas, pagodas and temples here,” said my guidebook.
“My horse’s name is Rambo,” said the man driving my cart. Then I watched the sun set over Bagan from the top of a very tall stupa. And when we drove back to the hotel, Rambo really turned to. I was impressed. He almost cantered. And back at the hotel, I checked my e-mail, ate dinner, went to bed and slept for ten hours.
“This class’s teacher is from this village. The villagers paid for her education and now she teaches here.”
“How much does she get paid per month?”
“$30.”
Then I walked across the road to the village itself and I’m here to tell you that, “It takes a whole village to raise $1,000.” And in fact I have no idea how they managed it. We’re talking cows and chickens and no running water and no electricity. Ox carts and goats. Picturesque as hell but definitely at subsistence level. And this village is better off than most because of the tourists who come to see the temples and stupas of Bagan. But the villagers seemed to be fairly happy. And there was no military presence there either. Actually, I think I’ve only seen one soldier since I’ve been in the country.
Next I went of a lacquerware “factory” – consisting of several low-lying tables where artisans worked, sitting on mats. “First you weave a basket with horsehair and bamboo, then cover it with layers of lacquer and then paint designs on the top. The designs are painted in reverse – like in silkscreening – and then gold paint is layered over that.” We learned a lot more about the lacquering process but I forgot what.
At the factory’s showroom, I fell in love with a little lacquer ring-box which was black with gold patterns – only five dollars! But then in an act of complete generosity I gave it to my guide. But then I got overcome with attachment and greed, bought another one just like it and traded with the guide. I’m a bad person.
“If I wanted to retire here, is it possible?”
“Yes. I think there’s a visa fee of $200 a year but you can live like a queen here.” I could even get a maid! And air conditioning during the summer? “Sure.”
“Maybe I could join a nunnery here,” I mused, “but then I’d have to cut off all my hair and my daughters would win our hair-growing contest.”
“No, you would not have to cut your hair.” Hmmm.
More good stuff – I went off to see yet another gold-plated Buddha and took a sunset cruise under a full moon on the Irrawaddy River. It’s gonna be hard to leave Bagan tomorrow.
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