Help Myanmar

We're keeping this entry at the top of the pile so you can easily access the links in it. Our latest blog posts will be below this entry for the time being.
Thank you all for reading and commenting on our entry on Myanmar in Despair
Finally, the government seems to be letting some aid into the country. If you haven't donated already, please consider doing so. What seems like a small amount of money to you can go a long way in a country like this. There are several organizations through which to donate.... here are links to a few:

• International Federation of Red Cross & Red Crescent Societies • World Food Programme • UNICEF • UN Refugee Agency • CARE International • The Salvation Army

What do you get when you cross Jenny Craig with Betty Ford?

Well it could be Jenny Ford but the correct answer would be Detox/ Fat Camp in Laos. It began with our mini bus dropping us off in a tiny town and our fellow passengers who had previously been silent, asking why we were getting of at such an obscure place. The only accommodation was very basic thatched hut style with a nice view over the river and a bucket of cold water for shower and flushing the squat toilet. The next day fat camp began. Ok, it was actually a challenging three day trek through the jungle staying in villages and eating sticky rice for every meal. But it certainly detoxed our livers and caused us to shed a few pounds. The jungle trail went up and down hills, through rivers and ended up so muddy that our sandals would not stay on. At one point the mud was so sticky and slippery, Jen opted to take off her shoes and tread barefoot down the muddy slopes. To make matters even more challenging the trail was covered with hundreds of hungry leeches, within the first half hour we each had a small family of them living on our feet. Fortunately we brought along the “big-guns” (80% DEET) which surprisingly didn’t melt our sandals but did remove Jen’s toenail polish and effectively repel the blood-thirsty wrigglers. Our evenings were spent in the villages of the Akha people. In the first village the children were especially curious watching us apprehensively at first and then quickly warming up as we taught them hopscotch and tic-tac-toe. We were very happy to see dinner; very fresh (as in bought from the villagers and killed before our very own eyes) chicken and more sticky rice. The torrential rains that lasted through the night made for some tough hiking the following day but it all paid off with an invitation to a village feast held to celebrate the eviction of some spirits from the village. Again, the children were very curious and gathered around the community showering spot (a bamboo aqueduct of sorts) staring wide-eyed at Jen as she showered in the requisite modest bathing attire of a shoulder to calf sarong.
The feast consisted of a large room full of men sitting in circles on the floor around bamboo dining tables. The menu: raw blood and other unidentifiable bloody bits, raw pork larb (a Laos specialty), cooked pork served in stages from skin to stomach and everything in between, chilli sauce, soup, and of course the ubiquitous sticky rice. Out with the bad spirits, in with the good spirits; the beverage of choice was the locally brewed rice whisky Akha Laos, taken in shots all around the table for the duration of the meal (and some time after). So much for detox.
We had brought some Laos books for the children of the village that ended up being an overwhelming hit even with the adults. They gathered in small groups and listened, captivated as the literate villagers read them aloud. Fortunately they ended up in the hands of the village teacher who was quickly swarmed with children for an impromptu story when he left the feast. If you want to know more about the very well-thought-out organization that publishes these books click here: http://www.bigbrothermouse.com/
We learned a lot about the villagers from our fantastic guide. He explained how the daughters of the family move into the small rice storage huts when they hit puberty, here they can invite male suitors in and entertain them until they are eventually married or pregnant at ripe old age of 14 or so. Our bungalow was near the rice huts and we saw some young teenagers flirting outside as night fell. He also warned us not to go near or take a photo of the “Spirit Gate” through which spirits are ushered out of the village, usually coaxed by the sacrifice of a chicken. Nobody seemed to be too concerned when a herd of cattle when stampeding through it.
After forty kilometres through the mountains, sixty-odd leeches, and a whole lot of mud, rain and sticky rice and we were ready for a nice hot shower.

Flying high over Huay Xai

The town of Huay Xai, (pronounced hway see) is little more than a sleepy border town enroute to Thailand populated by a strangely large population of short legged dogs. I think a fast talking Corgi passed through town several years ago to spread some love. It is also the base for The Gibbon Experience, a unique enterprise started by a Frenchman to show the Lao people they need not burn down forests to make a living but instead use the forest to provide foreigners a chance to see rare Gibbons in their natural habitat.

So we set off for three days in that forest for what is one of the most fun adventures to date. After a three hour drive by 4WD we hiked an hour into the forest before encountering the first in a network of ziplines. For the next two hours we alternated flying over and hiking through the jungle to our accommodation. We soon discovered what fantastic accommodation it was, as we emerged from the trees and flew across a valley ,landing inside our two storey treehouse nestled 150 feet above the forest floor. Click here to experience our first landing or scroll to the bottom to experience an aerial view of one of the treehouse as we fly across one of the valleys. With beds for eight, running water and a bathroom with spectacular views of the valley, we felt like the Swiss Family Robinson!

Day two got even better with an early morning walk to look for the elusive Gibbons followed by swimming at a nearby waterfall and some incredibly long and fast “flights” (400m at 63kmh) through the forest to yet another tree house for the night. Despite the handicap of no alcohol we drew on all the old school games to pass the evenings. A few rounds of home-made pictionary, charades, poker, limbo and some card tricks managed to break the ice and turn strangers into friends. In fact, the seven of us got on so well that we elected to spend yet another night hanging out together when we arrived back in Huay Xai, of course this time we had the luxury of libations. One of the volunteers for the project thought this a small miracle, telling us how most groups separate at the earliest opportunity, having just spent 72 solid hours in the woods together.

Other than some leeches a few birds and a mouse that stored nuts in my shoe, we didn’t experience too much wildlife and certainly no Gibbons, but we did meet some met some great people and had a truly unforgettable experience.

Luang Prabang

Luang Prabang is an old French colonial style town reminiscent of the pre WW2 days when all of Laos was French Indochina. A town with a quiet charm, good food, good shopping and an opportunity to learn more about Lao life.
After eating at Tamarind restaurant we decided to take one of their cooking classes run by a young local named Joy. This started with an early morning visit to the market to see where all the ingredients come from, and while we have been to many markets, going with a local sheds new light on the experience. For example he was able to explain that the bucket of brown sludge this lady was stirring was actually home made fish sauce. A concoction of water, sticky rice powder, salt and dried fish that is left to ferment, (perhaps fester) until the flies stop buzzing around it, usually 6 to 12 months, before it’s ready to use. And the tasty congealed blood used to feed young children because it is easy to gum through and rich in nutrients. He was also able to explain how the markets sell meat without any refrigeration. It seems that the Lao people think the flies covering the meat add flavour and they don’t lay maggots until the afternoon heat arrives, so as long as you shop before lunch, everything’s fine.
Joy took us back to his house where his sister had setup the cute outdoor kitchen, surrounded by banana and bamboo trees and a view overlooking the river. There we spent the next few hours preparing our lunch of tasty treats like fish cooked in spices and wrapped in Banana leaves, sticky rice, Lemongrass stuffed with chicken and various traditional spicy dips of eggplant, tomatoes and (too many) chillies.
The next day was my birthday, so we took a drive to see the spectacular Tat Kuang Si waterfalls for a vigorous hike and refreshing swim in the turquoise waters of the limestone pools. Later in the day we strolled through the night market perusing the local merchandise followed by a special birthday dinner at a French restaurant for some good wine and cheese.

Vang Vieng

With the promise of being a backpacker’s haven and with mixed reviews, we weren’t exactly sure if we would even like Vang Vieng but since we would be passing through, we figured we’d give it at least 48 hours to find out. Sure enough, there were all the trappings of a backpacker’s mecca, with menus featuring “homesick food” along with happy shakes, happy pizza, or happy anything (meaning magic mushrooms, weed, or opium laced). Reruns of Friends competed with each other on the TV screens of many adjacent restaurants, Bob Marley filled the air at all hours and there were almost more grungy dreadlock clad tourists than there were locals wandering aound. But the prospect of not seeing more Buddist temples, a plethora of activities to choose from and spectacular scenery won us over pretty quickly.

Our first day began by exploring
some caves by inner tube, before climbing aboard our kayaks and paddling downstream. After a few small rapids and a few kilometres from town, we encountered the primary daytime activity for tourists. Floating down river and effectively doing a pub crawl at the numerous makeshift bars offering cheap drinks and fear inducing activities such as the “swing of death” or the “neck cracking zipline”. It was all quite surreal with people swinging and diving into the river, others throwing us lines to `fish` us into a bar blaring music of any genre, as long as it was louder and different to the bar across the river. Obviously we had found our day two activity and while we avoided the neck cracking we did do the swing a few times. Climbing to the top of a very high rickety platform to jump off looks a lot easier than it is and caused many to hesitate.

Continuing the adventure theme, we booked in for some rock climbing at a nearby limestone cliff with a group of Brits and our guide Adam. That was weird having people keep asking, “where is the next hand hold” and me constantly answering, “how should I know” before realizing my mistake. of our day, (and the next coupleWe spent the rest of nights) with our climbing buddies drinking and eating at the many great restaurants and bars in town.

A day of cycling, (on real mountain bikes!!) through neighbouring villages, carrying our bikes through rivers, exploring more caves and cooling off in swimming holes was a welcome escape from the Marley music of town. We did manage to shelter from a thunder storm while our flat tyre was repaired and were eventually forced to turn back when the mud on our wheels stopped them from turning.

Despite all the activity we still managed to lounge around for a few hours in hammocks writing our blog. We were planning to stay for two days and ended up staying for five. This is a place we’ll return to with friends in tow! Any takers?

Sabai-di Laos

After a three day stop in Bangkok to replace worn out clothes we were off to Laos. Unsure of what to expect, we arrived Laos’ capital city of Vientiane. Our guesthouse was located along the bank of the Mekong, which at this time of the year is more like a creek than a river. We managed to fit in the main sights in a day of cycling around town. This included a visit to one of the many temples, this one happened to be a Buddha-world of sorts with approximately 8000 Buddha figures residing there. We also made the climb to the top of Vientiane’s version of l’Arc de Triomphe, it is even set in the middle of a round-about just like the Parisian version. It is sometimes referred to as the vertical runway because it was constructed with cement purchased by the US that was supposed to be used for the construction of a new airport. Arc de Triomphe aside, we were expecting the French heritage to be evident in the architecture, but it seemed to be more of an influence in the cuisine with street vendors selling crusty baguette sandwiches, plenty of bakeries, and even some great wine shops. Having sated our desire for all things western during our Bangkok binge we actually skipped the wine and French cuisine in favour of some Laos food and BeerLao (the national brew). The food here is definitely a step up from the oily, bland carbohydrates that Myanmar had to offer (sorry Myanmar but it’s the truth). With all the fresh herbs and liberal use of chillies, the flavours seem to fall somewhere between Thai and Vietnamese (Laos is sandwiched in between the two so it’s pretty logical I guess).

We were both in agreement that Laos seems like a pretty cool place so far…laid back, not as touristy as Thailand but with more luxuries than travelling in Myanmar had to offer. I must point out that we use the term luxuries loosely here…. 24 hour electricity, ice, and being able to travel in a bus rather than the back of a pick up truck with bags of rice taking up any potential leg room on an unsealed road for 6 hours at a time definitely qualify as luxury travel.

Myanmar in Despair

We have just learned of the extent of the devastation of the cyclone in Myanmar with the latest death toll surpassing 22,000 people. This is certainly a tragedy by any standards but it seems an especially unfair blow to the Myanmar people and with particularly bad timing in the face of the upcoming constitutional vote. Life in Myanmar was incredibly difficult even before the cyclone. Many of the people were eager, even desperate, to share with us their message of despair. The general sentiment was that the government effectively turned the international media spotlight away from the people’s cries for help in September by promising a new constitution. Meanwhile, several monks and other political protesters had gone “missing” as the rest of the world stopped paying attention. There seemed to be frustration with the fact that the rest of the world seemed to turn its back on the situation. The outcome of the constitutional vote is expected to be fixed in favour, which will only strengthen the military junta’s position of power. While we were in the country it was actually impossible to figure out what the terms of the constitution were. Any media coverage was completely biased and did not provide any real information, it was just a pile of fear mongering. (check out the pics in full size to see some examples and also see the picture of the office for the National League for Democracy in Bagan which, according to a local, was shut down by the government) In fact, the newspapers seem to be a forum for the government to pat itself on the back for all the good it is doing… always good news about Myanmar and bad news about the rest of the world. For a news article on the media coverage of the referendum click here: http://www.antara.co.id/en/arc/2008/4/24/rsf-no-press-freedom-for-myanmar-constitution-vote/ We also heard reports about the military visiting small villages and threatening the people with consequences if they did not vote in favour of the constitution. Most of the people that we spoke with were planning to boycott the vote, they felt that there was no point in going to the polls when the outcome was already predetermined. Perhaps this is why the government is still keen to go ahead with the constitution in the face of this tragedy, the people’s morale is low and they are too devastated, picking up the pieces of their lives to stage any protest and draw attention to the issues.

In addition to living under the rule of the military junta, the people are facing declining tourist dollars (a situation which is likely to get worse now) and fuel and food prices are at an all time high. The government is lining its pockets and giving nothing back to the people: the roads are terrible, healthcare is abysmal, outside of the major towns electricity is limited to two hours per day, and telephone service is often interrupted. By our estimates, ninety percent of the families live in single room huts with woven wicker walls barely thicker than a sheet of paper; they rely on generators run by expensive petrol to provide most of their electricity. In spite of all their hardships, the people in this country are the kindest, most trustworthy and gentle people you could ever meet. Always greeting us with big, genuine smiles and constantly showing concern for our well being; whether it be walking a kilometre through town with us in the blistering midday heat to make sure we found our way to our hotel, escorting us onto the ferry and keeping us company while we awaited our departure, waiting the extra two hours with us for our late bus, sharing food with us when they thought we might be hungry, or making sure we were okay with being drenched during the water festival. They never asked for a thing in return.

Now we are left wondering if they are even alive, all these people that had such concern for us. We keep thinking about the little ones that would run up and say “hello”, excited to practice their English, blow us kisses before dissolving into laughter on the river banks as our boat pulled away, or coax us into another game of badminton and wonder if they are okay; remembering the hundreds of people labouring in the paddies, planting the new rice that was supposed to feed their community, crops that are likely gone now.

It seemed impossible for these people to lose anything else, they already had nothing… now they have even less.

We have so many more thoughts than cannot be summed up neatly here but hopefully in writing this we can offer some sort of idea, if vague, of what is happening behind the curtain that the government has drawn tightly around the country. Perhaps more importantly and urgently, we can appeal to you to consider making some sort of contribution to help the people of Myanmar through this tragedy. We can only hope the government will open it’s doors wider to the foreign aid that is being offered. We have donated to the International Red Cross only because we know that they already have offices established within the country, but I’m sure there will be many different disaster relief funds set up where ever you are. International Red Cross Link (to donate to Myanmar specifically, select Myanmar under Programme) http://www.icrc.org/web/eng/siteeng0.nsf/iwpList2/Help_the_ICRC?OpenDocumentOpenDocument

Here are some links that might of interest (as our surfing time is limited please send us any links that you find relevant and we will be happy to post them):

http://news.aol.com/story/_a/despite-cyclone-myanmars-junta-offers/n20080505232509990009

http://www.iht.com/articles/ap/2008/04/09/news/Myanmar-Constitution.php

Regarding media coverage of constitution: http://www.antara.co.id/en/arc/2008/4/24/rsf-no-press-freedom-for-myanmar-constitution-vote/

Bagan In Brief

An overnighter in Mandalay and we were off to the ruins of Bagan. This is one of those places that cannot be described adequately. Temples, temples, and more temples. There must be thousands of them here. We spent one day in a horse drawn carriage and three other days riding around on bicycles checking them out. Most of the time we were the only people inside, we would search around for the hidden staircases that would lead to the top and the spectacular views that stretched across the plains. Apparently the city was abandoned when rumours that Ghangis Kahn and his marauding army were dropping in for more than just tea.

I don't know why you say goodbye, I say hello

Happy to be leaving Mandalay and even happier to be dry, we began a 2 day journey to the mountain town of Hsipaw. It would be a 4 hour drive by pickup to the first town of Pyin U’Lwin followed by an early start the following day to get to Hsipaw. Two hours into the trip we discovered that nobody had told the people in the hills that New Year’s was over and we got hit with our first bucket of water. With laptop, cameras, passports etc. unprotected we were less than impressed as we arrived in the first town. Then to make matters worse, the hotels in town were filthy and roach ridden. When we finally did find one with vacancy outside of town, we found condom wrappers under the bed, a fresh supply under the pillow (the fact that they were strawberry flavoured didn’t help matters) and needed to clean the bathroom ourselves. All of this put us in a foul mood and when our beer arrived in a recycled plastic bottle from who knows where and Jen’s bra broke, we had both had enough. It was this day that sparked the “We are homesick” entry.

Day 2 was a little better and finally dry. A 5am start had us sandwiched into the pickup atop sacks of rice where our feet would normally go. After a bum numbing six hours and two tire changes we were told to get out at the side of the road where we were directed to Mr Charles Guest House. After reviewing the guide book it seemed that the major attraction was the Popcorn Factory? Why did we just put ourselves through that drive? With no better options we grabbed some bikes and not only did we fail to find the factory Jen’s bike lacking in any brakes caused her to bail out as she plummeted downhill towards a bridge. Why are we doing this to ourselves?

The next day was a dramatic improvement as we managed to successfully hike through some farms and rice paddies to a lovely cool swimming hole with waterfalls. The children along the way continually greeted us with a toothy smiling "Goodbye", (who taught them that?). We returned to the guest house to be invited to Passover dinner where we cooked, dined and learned about this Jewish holiday with some newfound friends.


Next morning we caught what was billed as one of the most amazing train journeys back to Mandalay. The highlight of this twelve hour journey (it was sold to us as eight) was the treacherous crossing over a long bridge spanning a canyon that was a terrifying distance below. That the train slowed to a snail’s pace to avoid derailing on the bridge was comforting… I think.

Wild Weather In Burma

We have heard news regarding the weather in Burma. Don't fear for our safety because we are now in Laos but are a couple of cities behind in the blog.

Madness in Mandalay

In a town that heats to around 40c every day, Mandalay goes a little crazy at new year when the water festival provides everyone a chance to cool off by throwing water around. Without experiencing it however, it’s difficult to imagine the scale of what we lived through for 5 days, but let me try to paint a picture.

Imagine yourself walking down the street, any street, and every child on that street has a hose or water pistol to soak the innocent passer by, young and old alike. They spy a tourist and make every effort to get you wet, even if that means crossing the street and dodging traffic. A few metres later, a little old lady with a huge smile comes out from her shop with a cup of water to pour over your head. Then a couple teenagers see you approaching and fill their 4 litre buckets and toss the contents at you amid laughter at scoring a tourist. As you contemplate just how drenched you are, a jeep passes and launches another couple of gallons at 40kph with deadly accuracy! And all of this happens in the first hundred metres!

If all this is not enough, you can wander down to the old palace where the festival is in full swing. Here throngs of people in mostly open jeeps carrying 15 or more dancing people, drive around and around for the entire day drinking and being hosed down by water cannons setup on the many stages that blare distorted techno pop music. The cannons are sucking stagnant water from the moat, drowning the recipients and filling the streets with six inches of water. But it doesn’t stop there, the putrid water flowing down the street is then scooped up by children who proceed to throw it over you again. And this goes on for FIVE days!

OK it was fun for the first few days where we participated with our own water pistols and visited the stages. With so few tourists, we were constantly being dragged off to dance with the locals and of course, would become the primary target for the water cannons. The only people exempt from the madness are monks. Is there something wrong with using a monk as a shield? And yes that is me, (Adam) wearing a Longie (mens dress) as I get hosed down by a family in the picture above. I needed something else to wear after I destroyed a pair of shorts. When shopping in Mandalay the largest size they had would not even go past my knees, much to the amusement of Jennifer and the ladies in the store. What made it worse was the fact that the men tie them off in a knot at the front, and the larger the knot the more of a "man" you are. Well due to my larger size I could only muster a small knot. Again to the amusement of all the men who repeatedly offered to retie it for me.

I don’t know how the locals maintain their enthusiasm for the water festival for so many days. On day four we basically hid in our hotel room and by the end it was hard to fake a smile as yet another bucket of water gets thrown your way. We did manage to meet some great people from Canada and Australia who joined us on some expeditions out of town. (Not that we were able to stay dry on these either). The first was a relaxing trip down river to visit temples and villages. The next day was a wet tuk tuk drive to a monastery, a visit to an ancient walled city and finished with a relaxing stroll across a 1.5km long teak bridge for sunset.

New years day finally arrived and we would be able to travel dry, so we packed the kids and set off in yet another pickup bound for the mountain villages.