Myanmar - Inland To Those Infinite Mountains

My Oupa would always place his hat in a strategic place, as if to announce his arrival. I seem to have inherited that ritual. My hat has been laid to rest in many places around the world. Some more bizarre than others. Somehow seeing it perched on a rock in China, hanging from a bicycle handle in Myanmar, balancing against a Pagoda in Cambodia or feeling its warmth covering my eyes whilst napping somewhere, provided me with a sense of security when in foreign lands. My hat became my best friend.

A trip into the interior of Myanmar with my dear friend Jenni, was no exception. The hat came too. She was my pillow and tried her best to provide support to my weary neck that long night on the bus, heading northwards from Yangon. Smothered under thick blankets – due to the freezing temperatures created by the air conditioner on board – we settled down for the night in giant-sized reclining chairs. Seat covers of deep purple velvet depicting glittering Hello Kitty images in shocking pink added to our comfort. 

In the early hours I woke to witness majestic mountains on either side of us. For as far as the eye could see. The deep valleys lay motionless tucked up in beds of darker hues. Seemingly holding their last few moments of slumber sacred. Before the morning sun greeted each one with its most influential rays of gold. The bus lumbered slowly around the endless hairpin bends. As nerve-wracking as it was, I could not stop myself from staring out at the exquisite vistas. As he negotiated each treacherous turn, the driver shared his morning meditation of tranquil Buddhist chanting. I wondered if there was a connection between asking for protection and the condition of the road. An hour later I gripped a cup of steaming hot coffee between my fingers as the early morning light filtered through the trees. My feet were planted firmly on terra firma. I too gave thanks.

I had battled with the extreme levels of heat and humidity whilst living in Yangon. The cool mists of Kalaw greeting us each morning, as they wafted through the lush garden below our window, provided the most welcome relief. I felt clean and fresh. Something difficult to attain during the monsoon season in South-East Asia. I could understand why this part of the world was used by the British, during the colonial era, to escape the heat experienced in other parts of the country. Situated at an altitude of 1320 metres above sea level, Kalaw’s cool fresh mountain air supports the numerous hiking activities for which the area is famous.

We wandered around the dilapidated colonial mansions. Taking pleasure in imagining just how magnificent they would have been with their wide spacious verandahs, abundance of opulent ceiling fans and the endless supply of chilled gin and tonics. I could almost hear the music of that era wafting through the large windows. The fine net curtains accompanying the notes whilst being carried upon gentle breezes.

Our days in Kalaw were long and lazy. We had intended the trip to be one of relaxation. However, the urge to explore further took hold of us after breakfast one morning. We hired a driver. A cheerful man who took it upon himself to take us on the backroads and short cuts. Heading up into those incredible mountains surrounding the town, Jenni and I felt very much at home. Despite the road becoming nothing more than a track. One made treacherous due to the deep churned-up mud. At one stage we opted out of driving, preferring to wade ankle-deep in the stickiness of it all. The rugged landscape of the Shan Hills surrounded us. The vegetation was thick. Negotiating the deep furrows in the road, we stopped every few minutes to appreciate the scene before us. Nature at her splendid best. Magnificent, commanding and intriguing. Yet, gentle and supportive.

Each bamboo structure, perched precariously on the side of the road, was home to someone. Business was conducted from fragile, yet durable, shelves displaying an assortment of goods. Amongst them were brightly coloured traditional hats. Of which I purchased a gorgeous sample. The homes were simple. Open-plan and without a doubt, commanding the best panoramic views ever. It must surely have felt as though one owned the entire world when standing within those beautiful bamboo walls. Staring out across those expansive spaces towards infinite mountains.

As always, the people of Myanmar were friendly. Generous with their smiles. 

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