On the Karen Trail

                    (to see all the Kalaw to Inle Lake photos, click here)

Tribal women harvesting the wheat by hand

Surely the last thing you'd expect in the mountains of Myanmar as you step off a rickety cramped local bus where you've spent the last 12 hours perched sideways into the walkway because your legs can't get behind the seat, is a "g'day mate" from the welcoming party. But here stands Percy, an Australian born retiree who for the last decade who has made his home in the small trekking town of Kalaw, greeting me as I stretch out and try to put my stomach back where it belongs, it having risen to my throat (and nearly beyond) over the course of the journey's final four hours on a slow, incredibly windy ascending stretch of road that leads to this place in the highlands. "Ya didn't bring a meat pie with ya mate?" he asks in jest. "I really could do with one of those. Tell ya mates if they come here could they bring me one?". So note, if you do go to Kalaw, you have been asked. But even if you don't he'd love to see you; his house which is very close to the only petrol station in town, at its edge...just ask around there and someone will take you to it.

Young monks play Chinlon which uses a cane ball

Percy married a Burmese woman some time ago, and chose to make his home here where the climate is more moderate for his "retired bones" than Yangon . He's the first to testify that the Burmese Junta almost never let anyone who doesn't work for an embassy stay for very long - it's only in the last few years you could travel in the country for more than 2 weeks - but somehow, keeping his head down, he's managed to secure permission to remain here for so long. After settling in my hotel and arranging a guide for the three day trek to Inle Lake, I come back for the evening and over several beers he provides an incredibly useful perspective on a number of questions I have about the country and its - shall we say - "difficult" politics.

children sift the wheat

In the morning I begin the three day hike to Inle Lake through the local hill tribes. It's just me and my guide, Paye; a search through the town for company the afternoon before reveals - like much of the rest of the country - I am the pretty much only traveller about. The next few days are spent walking up and down hills, passing through farm fields and villages of the Karen people and their tribes, eating locally cooked breakfasts, lunches and dinners and supping on copious amounts of green tea.

This part of the world is truly medieval - there's no running water or electricity in the thatched two-storey houses that make up each village, and the only transportation used to get around is the ox-cart; drivers and family are a regular sight coming the other way, perched precariously on a flat deck that see-saws along the deep worn grooves of the dusty roads. My evenings are spent at local monasteries, the teak solid-wood floors being hard to sleep on, but for no extra charge include being awoken at 6am to the chanting of the young monks just metres away on the other side of the room. Surely, there is no better alarm clock.

A young monk at a monastery

The final afternoon, I arrive exhausted at Indein, a town near the shore of Lake Inle. Here, further Stupas that date from a similar period of Bagan cluster a the top of a pathway at Shwe In Thein. Though some have been unlovingly restored in a bid by some of the richer Burmese (read: Military) in a bid for favour in the afterlife, others appear untouched for centuries and their weather-beaten exterior makes for a magnificent afternoon exploration, despite my exhaustion from the three-day hike.

Eventually we make it to a pre-arranged boat to take a ride across the lake. The long dinghy winds me and Paye quickly through a river and into the marshes at the lake's edge, before bursting out onto open-surfaced water. We are now on a spectacular shallow lake lined all around the edges by jagged mountains. As we quickly race along, I can see scores of fishermen working together on the lake by slapping the water with long poles, herding the catch into their nets to take home to houses in the distance that rest above the water on poles driven into the lake bed. We finally arrive at Nyaungshwe and I say thanks and goodbye to Paye.

Ancient Stupas at Indein, Inle Lake

The next morning I make a trip to the local market for some last-minute gift-shopping, before heading to the airport. I am deeply saddened at having to leave this country. But this, the last stop on my travels of the last 4 months, was just amazing and I will be back to Myanmar, of this I'm sure.

Fishing by slapping the lake & 'herding' fish