The Romance of Mandalay

Mandalay. Just the name summons romantic images of the mysterious East, the mystical Orient.

“On the road to Mandalay

Were the flying fishes play,

An' the dawn comes up like thunder outer China 'crost the Bay”

Kipling’s romantic Mandalay can still be found, but you have to look past the modern city of anonymous Asian apartment blocks, typically insane traffic, and unkept concrete streets. The staggering Mandalay palace is the centre piece. It jumps out at you suddenly; a roaring behemoth, gigantic in scale and grandeur, with walls stretching to eternity. The modern city wraps itself around its ancient heart, protectively sheltering it from the outside world.

Firstly though, I can’t talk about my time in Mandalay without mentioning the New Year celebrations. The Burmese New Year Water Festival, or Thingyan, falls around mid April. The Buddhist festival lasts supposedly around 4-5 days, but the otherwise excellent cross country bus service grinds to a halt for about two weeks, and planes are booked solid. Trains seemed to be readily available, probably because most sane people would prefer to stay where they are rather than torture themselves on them. For the duration of the celebrations, a lot of restaurants and state tourism sights are closed too - so all in all, not great news for travellers!

The water festival is exactly what it sounds like. Essentially, for five days you can expect to have water thrown at you at every opportunity. Thrown by laughing children, thrown by nervously exited adults, and pretty much thrown by anyone who catches a glimpse of your not-Burmese face. Quite often, it’s when you’re looking in the other direction, or at least when you aren’t expecting it. By the end of the celebrations, you begin to feel and act like some kind of hunted animal. You’re tense, irritated, and skulking around back alleys having used valuable 3g data on a painstaking google maps session; working out how to avoid the gangs of children who are camped out at the corner of every block just waiting for you to make your move. You’re also soaking wet (obviously) and filthy. This last point is because the water is typically drawn from the filthy river/palace moat/puddles/cesspits(probably).

Those are the bad points. Thinbgyan is also some of the best fun I’ve had in years. All at one it’s exhausting and painfully funny. Exciting and terrifying. The people of Mandalay turn into uncontrollable children for a whole week, and it’s an absolute pleasure to watch.

On the major street junctions are huge stages with powerful water hoses attached. Dance music blares from mid afternoon to the early morning, and people throng to the front of the platforms, dancing and singing the night away as they get soaked by the water.

Having white skin is a curse in that it definitely makes you a target - nothing is funnier than a wet white person, obviously. But it’s also a blessing; most of your attackers want to befriend you immediately before or afterwards.

It’s easy to protect your valuables with the sealable waterproof bags on sale at every corner, and you can even buy dirty bottled water from enterprising children to join in the fun. I went for a large-ish water cannon, mistakingly thinking it would frighten people.

The travellers in our hotel banded together most evenings, taking shelter in a dive-bar on the corner of our block. The whisky was cheap, the water fights few, and they even served good noodles.

So basically, it has it’s good points and some annoying points. But as long as you keep an outwardly happy attitude and just go along with it, it’s an interesting time to visit. That didn't stop me from getting the hell out of dodge after a few days though.

So, Kipling’s Mandalay. It is there, I promise. You just have to find it. We started, obviously, by leaving the city. Sagaing sits on the high ground on the opposite bank of the Ayeyarwady River, overlooking Mandalay. Our taxi drooped us off at the foot of a roofed staircase, leading up to a Buddhist shrine. Climbing the stairs took around half an hour, barefoot in the balmy heat. About halfway up we came across the friendliest monk in all of Myanmar. He earned this lofty accolade by saving us from a pair of angry dogs. His own angry dogs, in fact. Or at least they were sitting with him, and listened to him when he told them off.

We chatted as best we could for a few minutes, but the language barrier proved too much. He asked for a picture with us, and refused any donations. With a smile and a wave, we were back on our way.

At the top we found great views of the river, and of Mandalay in the distant haze.On our side of the river lay a network of covered staircases just like the ones we’d climbed. Sagaing is a large complex, stretching over a fair number of small, wooded valleys. From our perch we could see the tentacle like staircases weaving their way up to similar viewpoints, each crowned with golden pagodas.

The shrine atop the staircase we’d climbed is spread over three or four buildings, each housing impressive dedications, statues laden with gold, and bejewelled Buddha depictions. Descending, we passed a group of young monks, who giggled at our approach. We turned to look back at them, prompting outright laughter from the group, before they fled back upstairs.

Next, still in the Sagaing area, we visited a temple housing hundreds of small golden Buddha statues. This temple was tucked away behind lots of residential buildings near the river front, but it was so peaceful that it could have been in a different world. A scattering of monks and devotees prayed quietly before the statues, as well as in from of the large reclining Buddha outside the temple.

They seemed to be there for the duration, and had packed bottles of water and reading materials accordingly. Leaving them in peace, we wandered around among the golden Buddhas, soaking in the serene atmosphere.

I caught some birds nesting in the eyelashes of a Budhha, which summed up the peaceful atmosphere perfectly.

Lastly, we visited the U Bein teak bridge. This is officially the longest teak bridge in the world, and is a huge tourist attraction for the people of Myanmar. Restaurants and hawkers throng the shore. For some reason, it seems to be popular to site some of the restaurants within the high tide mark, so that when the river is high, you can enjoy your meal in thigh-deep brown water.

We crossed the bridge, which took some time because of the crowds and the heat, and recrossed to find some lunch. Watching the families, couples and enterprising photographers jostling happily and enjoying the teak bridge, you really got a glimpse of the happy nature of Myanmar. While eating lunch, we chatted with the owners and some of their children, who stood by proudly watching as we ate our meat and rice.

So that’s where I found the mystical Mandalay that I’d searched for. Just outside of Mandalay, far away from the water-wielding crowds. But the city has it’s charms too. The central palace really is jaw dropping in scale. The walls seem to go on forever. Unfortunately it was closed to visitors due to the new year celebrations, but its size dominates the city, and absolutely an atmosphere of regal power drips from its high battlements. Though the city is laid out in a modern, uniform block formation, there are enough rooftop cafe’s and hideaways to get away from it all. On street level, corn vendors sell the most delicious treats and sweets, while friendly motorbike taxi’s are always available to terrify you towards your destination.

But, as ever, the true romance I discovered was in the people. The views from Sagaing were great, but it was the monks and devotees, the laughing children and the angry dogs that made the experience memorable. The golden buddhas were fantastic, but it was the atmosphere created by the silent devotion of those in prayer that will stay with me.

On the famous U Bein bridge, it was the crowds that showed off the Burmese culture, and their friendliness that relaxed and inspired us. Even in the water-torn streets of Mandalay proper, the streets were full of exotic happiness and celebration.

I braved the ten minute walk to Mandalay railway station and arrived dripping wet to find a total lack of English signage. After queuing at the wrong counter three or four times, I was helpfully directed to a separate queue, my wet clothes and confused expression drawing smiles from everyone. It was actually really easy to book a ticket to Katha, once I’d found the right counter. The attendants could speak reasonable English, and were really interested in what I was doing. My train would leave the next morning at 9am and would take roughly 15 hours to get to Katha. The hotel would keep my big backpack, while I travelled light. Marco and Rebecca opted for a train to the hill country to the East of Mandalay. After a few drinks, I slept the happy sleep of someone who doesn’t know what they have let themselves in for.