It all hits you between
the eyes and makes
home seen bland and
grey by comparison.
60
the Shwedagon. Myanmar is a
predominantly Buddhist country, and its
thousands of temples, or pagodas, are
an integral part of everyday life. There
are no formal services and people pop in
whenever they want or can. Most bring
an offering to the Buddha, which can be
anything from a garland of flowers to an
elaborate arrangement of fruit (a couple
of bunches of bananas with a coconut in
the middle seemed to be a hot favourite),
or simply a bottle of water. Many buy
tiny squares of gold leaf to add to the
layers already covering the statues, in
some cases to the point of turning them
into featureless blobs. The amount of
gold in this place is staggering. Even the
most modest village temple glitters with
it but the Shwedagon is breathtaking.
Believed to be around 2,500 years
old, this massive pagoda is actually
a series of prayer pavilions around a
central “stupa” (which looks like a giant
upside down handbell), covered in gold,
precious stones and intricate coloured
glass mosaics. Pagodas are holy places
but they’re not hushed and sombre like
our churches. People don’t just come
to pray; there’s laughter, eating and
drinking. Even business deals are done
here. I saw men reading newspapers and
a group of women chattering excitedly
next to a lone worshipper sitting
cross-legged, eyes closed and mouth
moving silently in prayer, oblivious to
those around him. No-one minds what
you do, provided you obey some basic
courtesies, like not pointing the soles
of your feet at the Buddha statue if you
should sit down.
Leaving the frenetic bustle of Yangon
behind we headed north to a former
British hill station called Pyin Oo Lwin,
from where we took a train even further
north to Hsipaw. This is one of the “great
train journeys of the world”, passing
through rural landscape and tiny stations,
where women are waiting with hot food
to sell to passengers, before crossing the
stunning Gokteik Viaduct. When it was
built across a 300-meter deep gorge a
century ago it was the second highest
bridge in the world. The train is known as
the “dancing train”, because the uneven
track causes it to buck like a mule and
shake crazily from side to side, which