2,200 Buddhist temples dating back to the 11th century scatter across 26 square miles in a multitude of shapes and sizes. I had a wonderful time at this top tourist destination, and that was saying something considering two setbacks—May was during hot, triple-digit season, and most of the viewpoints were under restoration, severely limiting options for sunrise and sunset. The most popular way to tackle Bagan was to rent electronic bikes and start off-roading.

 

 

Getting There and Away

It was optimal to take the 8pm VIP overnight bus from Yangon booked through my hostel, 9 hours, $15. A taxi from the Bagan bus station to our lodging in New Bagan was $6 total, which was split four ways.

Door-to-door bus service was offered to Mandalay, $6, 6 hours. I booked my ticket at Thandar E-bike Rentals (scooter rental $3 per day) with a travel agency called Snow.

Many backpackers also came to and from Kalaw or Inle Lake via overnight buses.

Accommodation

The dorm in Bagan Central Hotel located in New Bagan was one of the cheapest options, $13. Good wifi, AC, lovely staff, breakfast was fresh and huge.

 

 

Tickets and Tours

Foreigners were required to obtain a $20 ticket valid for five days. Not everyone was stopped upon entry to buy it and not everyone was checked for having one. My taxi was stopped upon entering the archaeological zone. I was checked once in a temple.

Ostello Bello Hostel does a tip-based guided tour from 7am-2pm, but I’ve had enough of these and lately the notion of time constrictions has started to stress me out. I needed my own time for meditating, finding local food, and GoPro play. However, friends who did the tour said it was incredible.

 

 

See and Do

Day 7

“Express” bus companies meant you fly through dirt roads. Mercilessly.

It occurred to me that the majority of the world lives in wooden shacks and sells things out of wooden shacks. At night, roadside businesses of Asia, South America, and Africa are indistinguishable from one another.

I feel like I’m in a constant aura of safety. It’s dangerous to get used to so I can’t.

I think the children from travel brighten each my days. I try to take photos with them, or catch them in some sort of action.

****

I learned how to scoot in five minutes flat. It was sweltering, but I got a dash of wind on the e-bike and the temples were shady.

 

 

I really enjoyed Hannah’s company because we had one common aspect: she was another young solo female traveler who cared about the local culture. I followed her to climb a few ruins and to watch the hazy river.

Day 8

It was easy to see how people here are so spiritual with sunrises like these.

Furthermore, it was amazing how precious a steady breeze could be. It felt like a kiss from God. 

Slowly the others returned to their scooters but I clung to the restored red bricks for much longer.

 

I found the carvings of Nan Paya to be admirable and the countless mini buddhas of Abeyadana to be dizzying.

Somewhere along the way I thought I was purchasing a refreshing coconut but it was actually a palm fruit containing tasteless jellies you suck the liquid out of and chew and chew and chew on.

Manuha Phaya was my favorite for an unexpected reason. Something subconcious prompted me to walk behind the temple, where a very old man holding a heaping plate of food waved me over and yelled at me to eat. It was purple rice mashed with some member of the legume family and tempura vegetables. He threw the spoon in my hand. 

 

 

I had a few bites and it was good. I couldn’t understand what he was yelling at me because again, I don’t speak wingdings, but it didn’t stop us from having a good time and laughing a lot. His friends walking by were just as entertained. 

I thanked him in Burmese and walked away, but immediately ran into a woman who knew some English. I dragged her back to him and had her translate. He was asking where I was from! And also accusing me of not eating enough: the essence of grandparent-ing.

Then of course he shoved all the food in her face. I’m touched he didn’t want anything from me. His arms were the color of tar, he sported exactly one tooth, he wore sunglasses with “LACOSTE” printed on them, and he absolutely made my day.

I had the best Burmese meal yet at a little spot I found by the Irrawaddy River that had no foreigners and no English. They only charged $1.50 for any type of curry with half a dozen sides and some soup. So full.

 

If yesterday’s blessing was the sunrise breeze, then today’s was a public restroom with TP right around the corner at just the right moment. Just traveler problems.

Back in bed under the protection of my mosquito net, the door opened to let in a boy who looked fresh outta Osaka. He was hilariously flying through countries on a world trip during his gap year. We had him join us for sunset.

I again plastered myself to the outer edge on the second floor of a temple. Everyone abandoned the site when winds picked up. Crap flew into my eyes as I tried to keep up with the others.

My first Japanese backpacker card! It was personalized and listed all of Kento’s social media handles. A great idea that would be very obnoxious if adopted by any non-Japanese. Because the Japanese are just the Japanese. He showed us one of his Vietnam rap videos and I was dead. His rap name is OTNEK.

 

Day 9

Sunrise on Shwesandaw was crowded, but its beauty alone was enough to again make me feel grounded and present.

By the end of junior year I had an obsession with taking walks. I loved circling the outside, and then the inside of temples.

In the courtyard two young monks were wrestling. I could see their bony rib cages as their robes were ruffled.

A boy with a face full of thanaka led me through stair passages in Dhammayangyi, pointing out the streaks of bat droppings that nearly smothered the walls.

 

 

I was starving after Sulemani. I sped back, thankful that today’s bike was smaller and more agreeable. I found Kento in the courtyard working within the world of YouTube and had breakfast with him.

Alex and I hung out with the girls working at the hotel while waiting for our taxi. They did real thanaka for me. I watched in amazement as they whipped out a log of wood and ground it on a stone slab with some water. It barely had any smell. I’d been fooled by pre-made city crap this whole time.

 

 

They giggled at Alex and fed him loads of mango curry. They said they eat rice religiously—three times a day. And here Vivian the American was, introducing them to Wild Friends cinnamon raisin peanut butter.