Pyay - A Handful of Gems

 

If one’s home is a place of safety and stability, of nurturing and of love, one is able to gather strength with which to step out the door each morning. In order to face the day. To address whatever revelations it may bring. People need a home. No matter their financial status. Their place in society. Secured with a trustworthy shelter, Life suddenly becomes that much easier.

I have a love for homes. For homes with character and ambience. No matter the size or the style. It is not surprising then that I glimpsed many such homes in Pyay. Homes constructed mainly from natural resources. Having stood the test of time. Having witnessed history in the making. Having the courage to face the future. No matter the changes that occur before them. Regardless of the location, each dwelling stood proud and with resilience. Possessing the same admirable traits as the Myanmar people. 

One such home stood high upon a hill overlooking the Irrawaddy. An elegant iron gate  dating back to the colonial times stood open at the end of the winding road. Awaiting any semblance of life. I wondered who had passed through those gates in bygone eras. The mansion itself stood in silence.  Her broken doors and windows crying out through the wind. Now desolate and depressed, the grand old lady surely possessed a magnificent beauty in her day. Locals believe she is haunted. Whilst sitting on the rocks beside the front door, a certain eeriness enveloped us. One infused with grace and elegance. Tinged with sadness. We moved on …

As I have mentioned throughout my blog, food plays a huge role when travelling in foreign countries. One is introduced to ingredients, ideas and flavours not normally known. Thus learning more about local products, cuisine and traditions. In Myanmar, as in other South East Asian countries, great importance is placed on food. Mealtimes are a coming together of people. A time for chatting, for laughing and for interacting. 

Another scrumptious noodle salad, made of everything imaginable, appeared before me. Looking into my bowl of yet another unknown local gem, the thickest noodles ever stared back at me. Lazily soaking themselves in a thick sauce. The cold dish is made using thick round rice noodles, mixed with specially prepared chicken curry and chilli oil. That mixture is then smothered in chickpea paste, sliced onions, chillies, crispy noodles, slices of hard-boiled egg and fish cakes. I displayed my best table manners as always, but soon enough realised that these noodles presented their own challenge. Too thick for a fork they were. Too slippery to be eaten using a spoon. I sat back quietly and observed Htet Aung mastering the art of slurping. A perfect and widely accepted way of eating this noodle dish. 

After a well-deserved afternoon nap, Jo and myself met Htet Htet and Htet Aung at the reception desk of our hotel. Simple but charming, it provided us with comfortable beds. If not amusing signs on the front desk. After being chacked out, we headed off in anticipation of the excitement awaiting us. That of visiting the famous Shwesandaw Pagoda with its panoramic views of the town and far beyond.

Located on a hill in the centre of Pyay, the Shwesandaw Pagoda presents itself proudly, seemingly in a protective manner, overlooking all below. What lay beneath was a tapestry of what comprises Pyay. The town, sprawled out with tentacles reaching for the river. Giant mango trees dotted the scene. Stretching towards blue skies. The massive teak trees held their stance with age-old dignity. Narrow streets twisted through bamboo structures, tin-roofed structures and buildings of solid cement. Here and there, homes were splashed with bright colours. Others remained shades of dark browns. Many were a burnt-golden shade, depicting aged bamboo.

 

The horizon was scattered with telecommunication towers. Evidence of modern technology stood alongside the pillars of bygone eras. In the distance, the Irrawaddy lay in silence. Supporting all. The elaborate entrance to the Shwesandaw Pagoda beckoned us to step within. Outside on the streets, flower sellers were in abundance. As were the sellers of tickets for the lottery. One look at the never-ending staircase, covered in envelopes of green corrugated iron, leading to the pagoda, caused my stomach to turn. My knee certainly was not ready for drastic exercise. To my relief, we found a lift. My mind then raced with anxiety as we ascended to the top of the hill in what seemed to be an age-old lift. One which reminded me of why we have the option of stairs.

The pagoda remains one of the more important Buddhist pilgrimage locations in Myanmar. It is believed that it contains a couple of the Buddha's hairs. Hence the name, Shwesandaw, meaning Golden Hair Relic. The history of the pagoda remains uncertain to this day. No inscriptions, providing historical information, have been found. Many versions of what may be the truth exist. However, it is believed that the site has been in use for at least a thousand years. 

Sixty-four smaller pagodas surround the main bell-shaped stupa. Every single one, gilded in gold leaf. A breath-taking sight. A mind-blowing thought. Walking around in silence with my friends, it was, at times, difficult to take it all in. To actually comprehend the full magnitude of this architectural marvel. Thinking of the labour this feat required was inconceivable. Let alone the hardships and suffering that went hand-in-hand with such an undertaking. 

Staring serenely across at us, in graceful presence, the sitting Buddha added yet more enchantment to the scene. With the sunset adding her golden light, the Sehtatgyi Paya Buddha was beautiful to look at. What impressed me was that this incredible statue was seated in a residential area. Looking out across at everyday life. Protecting and supporting. Being in the presence of these Myanmar treasures filled me with a sense of elation. 

To be continued …