Pyay - Footsteps Along The Irrawaddy

It seemed the most natural thing to walk along the banks of the Irrawaddy at sunset. Our footprints making their mark in the shrub. The gentleness of the fading sun touched all within her reach as she had done since the beginning of time. Adding a spectacular infusion of colour to the water. Enhancing the magic that is Myanmar. The river was peaceful. Making it difficult to imagine the actual power she holds. Power over people and a country. One in which she has played a colossal role in its creation and development. 

As we wandered further, endless strings of hanging lights lit the various food stalls and small shops along the Irrawaddy. Creating a ribbon of fantasy. The atmosphere was filled with a sense of gratitude for the day interwoven with relief that evening had come. Bringing with it the gentle breeze of nature cooling down. It was time to eat. Time to share. Time to relax. In a majestic setting provided by the mighty river. The odd cargo ship settled in along the banks for the night. Their contents resting before continuing the journey to satisfy the needs of a nation. Once again, the subtle association I held between the African Lowveld and this, the land beside the Irrawaddy, blended into a coat of warmth as it embraced me.

Before we settled down to a scrumptious dinner of fresh seafood, we popped into the local night market. As always, an exhilarating experience. The lights and the ambience  in any night market in Asia are astounding. There is a certain buzz. An electric energy that exudes from the presence of all within its confines. It seemed the entire population was present. Selling everything imaginable. Bright green buckets provided support to bunches of red roses. Excited voices greeting, bidding and giving thanks, echoed through clouds of thick air infused with a concoction of the day’s delights. Crude bars of homemade soaps lay beside fine leather goods. A selection of spices, herbs and other such treasures stood in unison along basic wooden shelves. Their coloured lids joyfully throwing sparkle to the passing trade.

Young boys, Thanaka on their faces, waited patiently to drive shoppers home. Their thoughts, perhaps of full bellies or of a future in which their dreams became reality. I loved every second of being there. A strong sense of belonging, of understanding and of admiration presented itself. Absorbing as much as I could of this experience, whilst running around making my purchases of jaggery, candied apples and Thanaka, I secretly made a promise to myself that, one day I would return to this magical Pyay.

On the ground, huge metal dishes contained the traditional pickled delicacy, taw laphet. This interesting looking food originated from the Burmese nunneries in the hills surrounding Pyay. Laphet are fermented leaves from the pilosum plant. The pulp is wrapped into dried leaves and left soaking in water, which is changed often, for up to two years, before eating. I myself, was not keen on taw laphet. Its pungent taste proved to be too extreme for my liking. I politely left the leaves lounging in their bed of liquid.

My time spent with precious friends, talking, laughing and being together, always comes naturally. To be given the opportunities of exploring one another’s culture, is truly an offering to be treasured. Jo, Htet Htet and myself are of three different nationalities. We not only worked together as a team in an international school in Yangon, but it was evident in Pyay, that we were a team on every level. 

Thanks ladies for the memories. And thank you Htet Aung.