It’s a long way from anywhere as I sit uncomfortably in my cramped seat on the way to Inle Lake from Bago Myanmar. It’s three in the morning, I’m exhausted, my body aches, and I’ve been riding or waiting to board a bus for the past 19 hours. This lake better be as “remarkably beautiful” as all the guidebooks tell us because it’s the hardest trip I’ve been on in five months.
It’s the time of the water festival, the hottest time of the year, and everyone in the country takes the bus to visit relatives and see the sights for themselves. We arrived in Bago, a city located 80 km northeast of Yangon via Kyiakito in the early afternoon to book our overnight bus to Inle Lake. The tour operator eagerly takes our money, but fails to inform us that it’s nearly impossible to secure a seat during this peak season on such short notice. As the hours tick by, we wait impatiently for a spot to become available, our desperate owner hailing every coach passing through this dusty town until finally a driver agrees to take us.
It was an embarrassing experience when we got on the bus. People were pushed out of their seats to make room for us. By not speaking their language, our protests fell on deaf ears. We didn’t want people sitting on the ground for us, but there was nothing we could do about it, and we were taken to our designated spots.
The next 10 hours consisted of very loud “Laugh In”-style variety shows that I couldn’t understand a word about, a bus so full of luggage I was forced to tuck my 70-liter backpack under my feet, and temperatures so high it was hard to breathe. Just as I was drifting off into the glorious escape of sleep, we stopped at one in the morning for dinner. Who eats in the middle of the night? But sure enough, they all disembarked and ordered full meals from the roadside food stall. We ended up staying at this lively stop for much longer than expected as our bus was under repair and wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.
However, I had the opportunity to witness the entire spectacle.
It is very late at night, and children are running around playing, music is blaring, various food stalls are busy cooking food, and there is an open market to sell vegetables and fruits. This place is driving as it makes a living with the night buses that stop here full of people willing to spend money.
We finally hit the road, and once we settled into our seats, the variety show turned up to “11” for everyone to enjoy. Somehow, I managed to go back to sleep, but at 5:00 am I was woken up by loud prayers coming from the loudspeaker. Nobody seemed to care, so I sat in my seat and watched the scenery. We passed oxcarts full of produce for the market, horse carts taking people to town, water buffalo and children walking to school until the driver stopped the bus to tell us that this was our stop.
They dropped us off on the side of the road and the rest of the bus headed for Mandalay. Negotiations were going to start again for a van for the lake. We never found one, but we managed to get into a packed minivan where it would spend the next eight hours in 45 degree weather with no relief from the heat. 5000 Kyat ($6 US) bought me an engine seat with a thin straw pad to sit on. Four of us were crammed into the front of the van. A driver who never stopped smoking, a young monk who was squeezed between me and the driver, and my husband, who was wedged between me and the door.
31 hours after leaving our initial destination, we reached Inle Lake, where we took the first guest house we could find and quickly retired for the rest of the day.
I wouldn’t know if Inle Lake was as beautiful as the guide books say, we were in Myanmar at the hottest and driest time of the year, but during our stay at the lake it was cold, rainy and cloudy. We never experienced that awesome panoramic view. But like all the places we visited in this country, the people made the experience. They were warm and friendly and even invited us into a private house for tea and a chat. In a temple on the lake called Monastery of the Jumping Cat, a group of people were so captivated with us that they turned the tables and we were the attraction. People took turns taking photos with us and we shared a laugh as we gave the camera a thumbs up. Sunglasses-clad monks gave a sign of peace, and vacationers hugged us for photos. When Dave showed people the digital camera pictures of him, they all freaked out, wanting him to take more.
As for whether or not Inlay Lake was worth the bus ride from hell? Of course it was. I experienced pure hospitality, had the rare opportunity to see the Intha Leg Rowers, famous for their unique way of propelling their boat with one leg wrapped around their oar. I visited a monastery full of cats that had been trained by monks to jump hoops and had the privilege of interacting with a village that had been cut off from the outside world for so long.
