No nostalgia, no transfiguration, rather amazement at the fact that after all these years I find myself again in this wonderful little town in the mountains.
Here I shall feel – just like the last time – very comfortable.
I wonder if Mister Singh, our trekking guide, still lives here and if he has kept his wonderfully anachronistic way of guiding the trek.
I'll go look for him ...
The Railroad Hotel
Although the Railroad Hotel is quite new, it has already made a name for itself. Here, all backpackers meet, the average age might be under thirty.
I get a nice little room where I will feel at home for a few days. The bed is soft, the sheets smell wonderfully clean, there is a table with chair and a bathroom.
A very special bathroom
Here I have to make some adjustments, because this bathroom cries out to be described in more detail. I am convinced that in the planning (if there was one) and execution massive consumption of betel nut or other drugs must have played a role.
From the beginning: you first have to descend a pretty dangerous step to reach the floor, which is permanently flooded. Reason: the designer forgot to install a drain for the shower water. So you have to give the dry mountain air and other physical influences time to dry the thing out. But that's not all there is to craziness.
As the ground is, as already mentioned, a little far below, one stands in front of a washbasin that is much too far above. In short: one has to stand on one's toes in order to see one's face. Hooks are nowhere to be seen, so ideas are needed where to hang the towels and the toilet bag.
Finally, the toilet: it was probably correctly planned like the washbasin at the right height, which - no surprise - leads to the fact that one actually feels like sitting on a throne and looking down on the earthly world from far above. Burmese architecture is generally not very famous, but this bathroom actually gets the golden raspberry for the worst planned and worst executed building west of the Irrawaddy ...
Life is good
But there is absolutely nothing else to be said against the establishment: the staff is friendly and helpful, breakfast is one of the seven wonders of the world. Fruit, pancakes, bread, jam, butter, coffee are served every second so that you can hardly breathe. My God, life can be so good ...
Kalaw revisited
Already at the first visit in 2004, Kalaw was one of the highlights of the trip. Not only because of the pleasantly cool temperatures (compared to the rest of Burma), but also because the city exudes its own grace. There is a relaxed atmosphere, the people are friendly and courteous.
So I'm looking forward to seeing it again.
At first glance not much has changed, but at second glance the influence of the rapidly growing tourism can be seen. There are now shops and stalls on every corner where you can buy everything that will please the backpacker's heart. In addition, there are the usual restaurants that are oriented to foreign tastes.
The Burmese peculiarities have been somewhat lost. But at least the covered market in the center is still there, still full of clothes and hats and fruits and vegetables and things I'm not able to identify (see below).
A cool evening
A few words to complement Kalaw: there are to the 80'000 inhabitants, spread over the city and the many hills of the area. In English times Kalaw was one of the most popular mountain villages where people used to retreat during the hot summer months.
The location at 1400 meters enables a pleasantly cool climate, which I had to experience for myself yesterday evening and especially at night. It gets very cold. As soon as the sun disappears, the temperature quickly drops and makes sitting in short trousers a bit uncomfortable, so that one flees to the supposed safety of the hotel. But it's not much warmer there either, damn it!
As a passionate fresh air fanatic, it is of course unacceptable to not leave at least one window wide open, which proves to be a bad mistake. Sometime around two o'clock in the morning I get a breeze whistling around my ears. Get up and close the window? Much too cold, so I pull the blanket over my head and promise to change my attitude towards closed windows.
The train station in Kalaw
Today, however, the frosty night is forgotten, the sun is burning from the sky, and I go to an orphanage to finally get rid of my pencils and drawing books.
The way leads past the train station, where we had to wait 2004 very long for the train, which led us at walking speed to the Inlé lake. Everything is still the same, but you get the impression that a lot has changed in terms of technology in the station office (I am still unsure if there is still a train going to the Inlé-Lake).
The Orphanage
No one seems to have heard anything about an orphanage, not the uniformed person who guards something indefinable, not the porter at the luxury hotel, nobody on the street.
Do I actually have to take this stuff home? But heaven has an understanding with me, because the well-groomed lady at the reception might have remembered what I might have meant and shows me the way to a big, somewhat dilapidated house, which actually turns out to be the orphanage I was looking for.
It is a children's home founded and supported by a German lady and her association. 58 children from the particularly poor regions of the Shan Mountains live here. But where are they? A young girl makes it clear to me that they are all on Sunday devotions and will not return until the afternoon.
I don't want to stay here for that long, and with greetings I hand over the toys to the girl and say goodbye quickly before the conviction of being a particularly good person becomes all too overwhelming (here I'm missing an Emoji grinning crookedly) ...
The wrong Church
Two hours later I am standing in front of a church, listening to a choir of children's voices and wondering whether this could be the prayer where my future painting and drawing protégés pray, but far from it. A resolute lady draws my attention to my mistake. I simply caught the wrong church, the wrong religion. Here they are Baptists, the others are Catholics. I see.
Looking for Mr. Singh
Then on with my exploratory march. I still hope to find the guide who accompanied us on our last trip on a memorable one-day trek, i.e. one day through the surrounding hills and villages.
You have to imagine a gentle person with a soft voice and manners like from old England, tall, thin, with thick black hair, a reminder of his Indian descent.
And he simply knew everything there was to know. His eyes remained warm and friendly, even when he told us that he used to be a teacher and is now the only person in a large family who occasionally earns some money. The extended family also included his sons, both students, with their families who had no chance of finding a decent job (after getting home the last time, I sent him some money, but it might never have reached him).
An oasis of peace
And then - quite unexpectedly - on my walk I come across a Buddhist temple. The monks are just eating (sorry for the poor image quality, it had to go quickly and unnoticed).
The temple (which we obviously missed on the last trip) is as always great and exudes what is always there: its own inner peace. As if it were an island in the midst of the hustle and bustle of daily life. An oasis of peace.
The way home
The way to my hotel passes along narrow roads through the middle of the town. A rather fat pig is taken for an evening walk. The pig shepherd doesn't understand a word, but I would have liked to ask him about the fate of the handsome pig (which is actually clear).
Travel Plans
The funny thing is that although I plan to cross the border to Thailand by land at the end of the week, nobody can say for sure if this is possible at all. And since my Burma visa expires on December 1th, I have at most two days left to catch an airplane. I am currently playing Vabanque. But it doesn't matter.
For some time now Burma has made the borders a bit more open, meaning that you can now cross the border into Thailand at four places. According to the guide, this requires a special permit, which can only be applied for in Yangon at least 2 weeks in advance and costs 85$. Some fellow travellers have assured me that this is nonsense. No problem, man, absolutely no problem! We will see.
Strangely enough, the Burmese border town of Tachileik can only be reached by plane, as the road is either a) impassable b) passes through an insurgent area or c) is a conspiracy between the airlines and the government. Anyway, I've already posted a ticket for November 28th. Then it's bye bye Myanmar. I'm already feeling sad.
PS film trailer on the topic: Terminator - Judgment Day
And here the journey continues ...
