The 3am wake-up was brutal. It felt even worse when we realised that the
hotel had not booked us a taxi to the train station as requested. The night porter suggested we walk a couple
of blocks and we would find one.
Really? At 3.15am? Inevitably we ended up walking the 30 minutes
to the station through the empty streets of Mandalay.
As we got closer to the station, we started to see signs
of life. What is less visible during
waking hours is just how many people live on the streets on the ramp leading up
to the station and on the station platforms themselves. During the day, this is camouflaged by market
vendors outside the station and travellers on the platforms.
We boarded our train and in no time were buying onion and
potato bhajis through the window of our “Upper Class” carriage. The carriage was fairly comfortable and
kitted out with business class seats from a long-ago refitted aircraft. The reclining seats still had the foot rests
attached to the back and the trays in the arms.
Despite the bad press for Myanmar Railways departure times, the "131 Up" left Mandalay just
after 4am, heading out into the darkness.
Our carriage was very quiet as all the locals curled up on the seats
under the blankets they had thoughtfully brought with them. As the windows were all open, it was chilly. Just before departure a 40 year old monk jumped
on board and couldn’t resist the idea of sitting next to me for a chat.
While the rest of the carriage slept, he talked to us
about his 15 years in a monastery in Thailand and then read our palms (I’m
guaranteed a long life apparently). As
Lynn drifted off to sleep in the seat opposite, the monk informed me of his
preference for foreign women over Burmese women. I might have felt more disposed towards him
if he hadn’t stood up every ten minutes to lean over me and spit red betel juice out of the window. I was keen now to enjoy a little snooze
myself but first I had to make clear to my new friend that he couldn’t curl up
on my shoulder to go to sleep.
At 8am we pulled into Pyin Oo Lwin (an old
British hill station), our monk said his farewells and there was an influx of
eight foreigners of varying nationalities (8am being a far more civilised time
to join a train!). We munched on the
delicious red rice and chick pea stew that a silent monk had presented to us
whilst contemplating the day ahead and the crossing of the Gokteik Viaduct. The train line we were on was built by the
British a long time ago. When faced with
an impossible valley to cross, they simply commissioned the Pennsylvanian Steel
Company to build the world’s second highest railway viaduct. Built in 1901, this viaduct has remained in
service ever since despite having only received some “remedial work” in the
1990s. I think that the good people of Pennsylvania
can be very proud at this feat of engineering.
We made our way slowly up through the glorious
countryside, enjoying the life along the tracks: the endless neat vegetable
patches, the golden wheat fields, the pagodas and the children waving as the
train went by… This is the slow life:
the 131 miles from Mandalay to Hsipaw takes a leisurely 12 hours. With all the windows open and the sun beating
down, you can still work on your tan whilst enjoying the gentle breeze. The train does rock a lot and you do wonder
if you are going to get thrown off the track but in the end, you just get
thrown out of your seat from time to time!
The answer is to just relax and enjoy the slightly fairground nature of
the journey.
The train conductor was very proud of the Upper Class
carriage and kept it spotless as passengers came and went. This is a man in tune with his foreign
passengers – they are on this train to cross the Gokteik Viaduct. For the ten to fifteen minutes before
arriving at the Gokteik Viaduct, you start to get glimpses of this magnificent
structure and I will admit that it does look ever so fragile! The train pulls into Gokteik station before
the crossing in order to change gear. During
the stop, you are encouraged to jump down from the train to take a good look
and a few photos. Our conductor
positively insisted that we go through this rite of passage. Shortly afterwards, we started to crawl
across. We, the foreigners, were
captivated whilst the locals mainly read their books or slept. The conductor gestured to me to follow him
and he lead me to the end of the carriage where I could stand at the open door
and look straight down – I held on very tight!
This is a truly awesome experience – in the original, not the over-used
- sense of the word. I sat back smiling
for the rest of our journey to Hsipaw.
Hsipaw is a small dusty town from where you can trek up
to various Palaung
villages. With rented bikes for a day, we
roamed around town and then in the mid afternoon headed up to the Sunset Hill to
read our books and enjoy the view and the silence. A monastery lies at the top and shortly after
we arrived, a monk came out to see us with a visitor’s book. We filled in our details but as he walked
away, he suddenly spun around: “Rooney?! Manchester United?” “No, Liverpool!” He walked away tickled but appeared again ten
minutes later with a flask of tea and some glasses.
The next day we trekked up the Palaung village of Pankam
with our guide “Mr Bean”. Here, we
stayed with a family in a long house, were invited in for tea by another family,
read our books at sunset under the Banyan tree (my Aung Sang Suu Kyi book
caused Mr Bean much bafflement) and enjoyed the scandal of a night wedding
between a young girl and a previously married man.
Before we knew it, we were back in Hsipaw. It was early morning again and we were
setting off by train to complete the return journey over the Gokteik Viaduct…
No comments:
Post a Comment