I passed the remainder of yesterday essentially doing nothing, not even reading (I am trying to make Murakami's book, my last one, last as long as possible -- it's really good and has me thoroughly in its grip). So instead, I roamed the streets and observed people, tried talking to one or the other, but unfortunately did not get very far. What makes it all a little different is that the Burmese always say "ja" and shake their head, whether they've understood or not; effectively, this means paying attention that e.g. the motorcycle driver is going the right direction and aborting the trip as soon as you sense a misunderstanding (despite the convincing and assertive "ja"). Following breakfast (Bamar-style Mohinga, a noodle soup with seafood and unidentifiable cracker-thingies I'll just call corn flakes for now, vegetables or whatever else the cook decided to put in -- I've developed a strong liking to this dish in the morning), I took a taxi to the airport to board my flight to Heho, from where I would continue to Inle Lake. I still travel on a budget, so you may be surprised that I am hopping around the country with planes, but the $22 I had to pay for this trip (incl. taxes) and the 10 hours I saved compared to the $8 bus ride were well worth it to me. After all, I only had a few days in this country and tried to maximise the exposure I experienced. One thing is for sure: I will come back. Pwin Oo Lwin was nice, but I did not manage to go further east; A day in Mandalay is surely not enough. Bagan didn't do much for me, so I don't think I'll return there, but Inle, as well as the countless regions I skipped, including the pictoresque and untouched beaches, really make me want to plan my next trip now already. Arriving in Inle, it was raining, and the rains intensified towards noon. I am here to stay for two days, and the weather is unlikely to change, so after confirming that I could not take the next flight a day earlier, I bit the bullet, put on my rain jacket and sandals, rented a bike, and went off to visit the cultural museum, also known as the "Museum of Shan Chiefs" -- which was kind of disappointing. Set in a beautiful house (the sight of which was worth most of the $2 entrance fee), the items on display were scarce and almost exclusively labeled in Burmese. None of the folks working there seemed to be inclined to show me around, so after 20 minutes I left into the pouring rain, stopped by at a kitchen for a Burmese-style beef curry with jack fruit soup, and eventually returned to my hotel. I am staying at the Aquarius Inn, a cute place with simple and clean rooms, a cozy porch, and a little garden out front. The staff, a girl maybe a little younger than me, is very attentive and speaks good English, studies geography at university, and took a particular liking to making me feel good for the two hours I decided to flip pages in Murakami's book on the front, bringing me tea, fruits, and little snacks on a continuous basis, always with a huge smile on her face, and eager to help organising whatever I would want to do during my stay in Inle. But with the rain coming down non-stop, I am somewhat puzzled as to what I should do. The compulsory thing here is at least a day on a boat out on the lake, visiting floating villages, as well as the peculiar rowing style the people from this area developed -- using one arm and one foot instead of two arms --, hoping from floating market to floating market, and enjoying the scenery of the Shan hills surrounding the river. The Lonely Planet describes the places as a mirage. But with clouds and fod and water from above, it loses all its charm, and that's not because I fear getting wet. Not that I am bored or afraid of being bored, I'll just have to make sure to find some alternative programme, which could include spending the morning watching the market, reading, and talking to some fellow travellers who are in a similar situation as myself, but readily indulge in elaborate discussions on scientific topics, it seems. This much as an update. Internet access here is even more difficult than in Bagan, so all the other thoughts I meant to push out to this blog have to wait until Yangon, Bangkok, or Zurich. Thanks for reading along. PS: I don't think I'll travel with Lonely Planet again, it's just too inaccurate, and I disagree with their approach to research (e.g. not reconfirming facts researched a year before printing before the book goes to print), and happened upon too many errors this time around. Plus, I have sent them elaborate updates on four previous trips and have never heard a single word from them, no acknowledgement, thanks, nothing. Maybe I am spoiled by Open Source development. I have been recommended the Rough Guides, so I'll give those a shot for the trip to Debconf in Mexico.

I guess you could say I am now on the verge of tears, or at least have been for a while (and it's wearing off) -- since I came back from a little expedition on a horse cart around Bagan, visiting some of the poorest villages in the area to drop off a good share of the presents I still have with me (like marbles, balloons (latex ones, so biodegradable), soap bubbles, hair pins, fake jewellery, balls, and pens and paper), as well as a bunch of tubes of toothpaste, bars of soap, and bottles of shampoo, which I had picked up on the way just before. My sadness comes from two aspects of this experience. The first, which is minor because I had expected it, was simply to (once again) witness the conditions under which the poorest of the poor live: in bamboo houses together with their cattle and pigs (everyone here seems well aware of bird flu and have taken the appropriate precautions; the government apparently did a good job in educating its people), with trash and feces all over the place, kids with almost no clothing and the elderly obviously sick from a distance. But I've actually seen worse in Laos and expected it, so that wasn't the main source of my tristesse. What almost made my eyes water was rather the fact that in the first village of the two I managed today, my arrival and obvious wish to give out gifts resulted in fights among the kids, and in dishonest behaviour by some, while the mob was almost ready to run me over as everyone (including grownups) was stretching out the hand and grabbing at whatever I pulled out of my bag. Call me naive, but that part I did not expect. It's understandable, as for these people, anything makes a difference, sometime and existential one, but they are Bhuddist after all, and among the teachings of the Bhudda you can find such lines as "do not be dishonest", and its philosophy (which carries throughout many non-Bhuddist Asian countries) includes the rule to never lose one's face, which covers shouting or fighting. On my first trip to Southeast Asia -- Vietnam -- I reached some remote villages in the Tonkinese Alps in the country's north -- villages which where equally poor, but which were also quite detached from civilisation as found around larger cities. While money still served as the main means of exchange, it appears to have a much lesser meaning to the people, who are mostly self-sufficient to a point of independence from the government as far as you can get (I guess). In these villages, I also passed out presents, but never had an experience such as the one today (nor did we experience something of this sort in some of the villages in Laos, equally removed from the main lines of infrastructure). Rather than fighting for the gifts, the kids would share them. Rather than tears, the gifts brought smiles. It thus seems that civilisation as we know it causes the competition even among kids, and that's the part that fills me with sadness at the same time as it disillusions me quite a bit, because that kind of civilisation will inevitably spread. Going off on a tangent (without the intention to return), I have been thinking a lot about my "mission" in Myanmar, which was to bring clothing and medication, as well as gifts to the poor. While one could interpret this mission -- carrying more than 15 kg of "stuff" through the stifling heat -- as an altruistic act, I also cannot deny the selfish component, because I take great joy in helping people. If you recall, dropping off the clothing I had brought in a village a couple of miles outside of Pyin Oo Lwin didn't fill me with the satisfaction I had hoped to gain, mainly because I was obviously misinformed about Myanmar (btw: I am calling it Myanmar again, which is actually what locals use, unless they speak with tourists). Fortunately, however, I quite easily managed to accept that the mission was still a success for the people undoubtedly were helped quite a lot. If there is one thing I have learnt for sure this time around, then it's that I will return, sooner rather than later, and hopefully with a lot more goods than this time around. This trip has been self-funded, which is why I am also (trying to) spend most time on vacation. I could well imagine that the next time might see me just running the goods there and fly back after only a couple of days. Of course, there are no details, but keep this in the back of your heads (and pass it on), just in case you'd be willing to donate funds to finance the trip. This brings me to another, somewhat related topic, which I have been pondering ever since I arrived in Myanmar, and especially so after I met and talked to a Portuguese globetrotter, last night: the topics of beggars and how to support these countries in effective ways. Let me address those in turn, the second one first as it's more closely related to my braindump you just read (thanks for that), and because I am nowhere near a resolution and can thus sum it up in three sentences: even though individual aid trips, like the one I am on, are helping, I would guess their effectiveness to be quite low, and raising this effectiveness certainly requires a lot of effort and infrastructure. Thus, it may be more beneficial if I were to donate my will to help to an existing organisation already established and connected in the Southeast Asian countries. I am not talking Unicef and other, similar large organisations (some of which I do support already, and if only financially), but rather much smaller endeavours that concentrate on this area only -- surely the need for help exists in all developing countries, but I am most interested in helping Southeast Asia, for the people here have taught me so many valuable things that have changed my life. On the first topic -- beggars -- let me say this much: if you've been to developing countries, you know what I am talking about. If you have not, just imagine all sorts of people (but mostly poor-looking) coming up to you with their hand stretched out, saying "money, money" repeatedly and not respecting a "no" in any way. Any guide book advises you not to give any money, because it will increase the "nuisance" these beggars are to future tourists. But at one point during my time here, I was as far as giving a small amount to everyone who came up (unless there were more around, at which point it would just get out of control too fast) by reason that it doesn't hurt me a bit, and that despite the syndicates and other arguments against it, if you are actually helping one out of ten beggars, that's one more than zero. Since then, however, I've found some more compelling arguments, and the one that's been the most persuasive so far is that a beggar's success attracts more beggars, and while the guide books call that a "nuisance", the real problem is that these people come from villages to cities, from places where they are self-sufficient (at least in Myanmar with its vast resources) to places where they'll end up sleeping on the streets. Enough of that for now, you can be sure there will be more another time; on to something completely different: This is the first time I am travelling Southeast Asia while blogging, and I have very mixed feelings about it. First of all, Myanmar isn't the place for easy Internet access, so it's been quite painful to keep publishing (which was only possible thanks to the help of Hanspeter back at home; thanks), nor is it the place where you'd be inclined to spend a couple of pensive hours in front of the screen while serialising your thoughts into writing -- the power keeps coming and going every couple of minutes, and frequently the battery-backed power supplies most people have cannot bridge the downtime. But that's not the reason why I am not really too satisfied with my blog entries so far. I have found it difficult to write even in Thailand, where Internet access was excellent, and I guess it's mainly due to two reasons: first, there is too much going on outside and the fear of losing a minute of "street action" to these godaweful computers just keeps me from taking the time to think before writing. The second reason is related: impressions need time to settle, and I guess in some ways I do prefer very much to just "be", rather than experiencing with the objective to blog about it in the back of your head at all times (I am a geek after all, don't forget that). I guess I'll try it another time since having Aline along for the first part, and then being subjected to Myanmar's suboptimal information infrastructure, may be factors of larger value than I see them right now. By the way: this blog does not contain all of my writings while I am here, for obvious reasons, so there is more to come if you are interested, but not via this channel. I'll let you know. Now, on the boring side: I returned to the temples in the late afternoon yesterday and saw another three or four, before sprawling out on top of another in aspiration of the sunset to be Obscured By Clouds (which is when I talked to the aforementioned globetrotter for an hour or so). I did find that after all, Bagan didn't have much in store for me, having seen some of the temples at Angkor. The scenery is breathtaking, and some temples are really astonishing views, but as soon as you get on the inside, they are mostly walls and Bhuddas, one similar to the others, and thus quite unlike to what I'd seen in Angkor last year. Since I am also not the type of guy to go off meditating for a day in a remote location, or take my book far away to read in peace, I think that this one day between the temples was enough for me. Maybe the temperature did play a role too, but there was no question for me: I was to do something else the next day (which is today), rather than go out again on that horse cart. I thus joined up with some Australian travellers on their overland way to their new home, London, and hired a taxi to Mount Popa, home of the 37 Nats (spirits) which are closely knit into the Burmese culture. After a 25 minute climb up steep stairs, I found myself again disappointed by a somewhat dirty and absolutely non-pretty stupa on the top of the hill. The view (and temperature) was great though, so no hard feelings, but also no time lost to head back to the hotel, to get on with the village hopping I had planned for the afternoon. Tomorrow morning I am leaving for Hohe and Inle Lake, where it'll be much cooler (or so they say). Stay tuned. PS: And of course, Murakami's novel is not called "Kafka at the Beach", as I wrote in yesterday's entry, but "Kafka on the Shore". I guess it must have been yesterday's intense heat causing that Freudian slip. Anyway, the book is truly captivating and I am afraid I'll zoom through those 600 pages faster than I'd like, given that it's the last of the books I brought. Hopefully I'll find something to pick up on the way that's not Agatha Christie, Dan Brown, Jane Austen, or the other wonderful writers of entertainment fiction, which I'd rather not read even if you paid me for it.

Leaving the computer centre in Mandalay, I decided to settle my further itineraries and headed to an Internet shop in the hope to arrange some online bookings, using Aline's credit card (because mine was lost and I would rather preserve the cash dollars I have, given that there is no way to get more money in this country. I managed to book myself hotel rooms for the One Night in Bangkok I have before returning home, as well as the five days of Yangon before. Other than that, however, I could not get any flights; Myanmar-internal flights cannot be booked online, and Thai Airways refuses to take passengers when the name on the credit card does not match the passenger's. Given that my plans for the evening where set, I had to leave the place with my mission unaccomplished and headed for the Green Elephant restaurant, which the Lonely Planet describes as up-scale. For a whopping $7, I treated myself to beer, pickled ginger and green tea leaves, and butter fish in a tomato curry. Very delicious. Afterwards I attended the Mandalay Marionette & Culture Show, which was quite lovely despite the atonal music that came with it. Mandalay marionettes (or Myanmar marionettes in general) are very elaborately made, and the style to guide them is very unique to the country, the art having been the popular art back in the days when kings ruled the land. The artists are devoted to keeping this art alive, and you could really feel their enjoyment as they showed fights between ogres, princes and snakes, riding horses and trolling monkeys, princes engaging in "hackysack"-style football artistics (which is very popular over here, and people are rather good), as well as synchronised dances between marionettes and real dancers. I can recommend this show to anyone visiting (as I recommend to anyone visiting Hanoi to see the water puppet theatre) and am glad I chose this option over the "Moustache Brothers" performance, which is political satire and slapstick on the edge of legality. I ended the evening talking to some other travellers, most of which had no interest in listening to others but to tell their stories instead. The next morning saw me rising at 4:30 to catch the ferry to Bagan at 6:00 o'clock. The boat had comfortable seats and a restaurant, and only a handful passengers, so the 10 hours went by reasonably fast (no comparison to the ride we took on the Mekhong last year to get from Chiang Khong in Thailand to Luang Phrabang in Laos). We arrived in Bagan on time and together with some Australians I found the May Kha Lar guesthouse (following again the Lonely Planet), which is a rather pleasant place with a lovely, elderly, English-speaking lady running it. SHe also arranged my further air travel for me and wanted about $30 less than the official booking offices. I decided to spend an additional day in Bagan, so I am heading out from here by plane on the 28th, going to Heho, then spending two and a half days at Inle Lake, and flying to Yangon on the 30th. From there, I am leaving for Bangkok on 4 May. With the tickets in my pocket, I felt relieved, showered, and went for a traditional Burmese massage, which turns out to be completely different from the Thai style (which Laos and Vietnam copied more or less) and was rather painful, both because the lady literally tormented my legs far too long and spent only a very short time on my pained shoulders, and because neither the mosquito coils nor my repellents warded off the beasts as I was lying there out in the darkening sky right at dusk. No Malaria in this region, fortunately. Following a very traditional Burmese dinner (goat meat curry), I went to bed because... ... the next day I rose again at 4:30 to meet a guide, and left the hotel at 5:00 o'clock on a horse cart for a tour of the temples. Bagan is what could be called the heart of Myanmar, and on a 42 square kilometre area, you can find 2700 temples (of the 4500 originally built), dating back to the 10th century AD. Unfortunately, the wall carvings and paintings in most temples has been washed away, and it was nowhere near as fascinating to stroll along the endless corridors as it had been in Angkor Wat or Bayon Wat in Cambodia, but from the outside, these temples still look spectacular and are well preserved or restored. Also, climbing up on one or the other, the sight was almost overwhelming: a vast landscape of strupas and temples as far as the eye would reach, and all that under a lovely sunny sky. Haha. The "sunny" bit is what made me get up so early, because the temperatures are bearable only up until 11 o'clock or so. Between noon and 16:00 o'clock today, the thermometre measured 46 degrees Celsius -- I don't think I've ever been in a place so hot (if you leave out our trip to Death Valley in an airconditioned van. So in order to escape the heat, I went to the archaeological museum at noon, then back to the city and into the swimming pool of one of the nicer hotels in town, which cost me $3 for a pool that was green (they don't have the money for chemicals), and the water about the temperature of my bathtub at home. I did not swim, but fortunately, the showers there were pleasantly cold, so I lay in the shade to read ("Kafka on the Short" by Haruki Murakami), taking a shower every ten minutes to cool down. Going back to the hotel, I find the electricity to be gone once again. I think that this town (and Mandalay as well) has maybe 4 hours of electricity a day, it coming and going every few minutes (which makes computer use quite unpleasant). This also means that there is no aircondition most of the day, at least in the budget hotels which don't have their own generator. I am meeting my guide again at 16:00 hours for another 2-3 hours, then will follow the hotel owner's suggestion for a "back massage expert", eat, sleep, and climb Mount Popa tomorrow morning. I'll try to get online again in the afternoon. Thanks for reading along.

Our last night in Chiang Mai saw us eat at the market and take our rented motorcycle for a spin around the town, before falling into bed in order to get up early the next day. In the morning, we ran our last errands, including the buying of a lovely 14 litre Deuter backpack as my hang luggage -- Aline took the backpack I originally brought along with her as a shopping bag -- at a 30% discount, as well as breakfast, before we were off to the airport to part ways. Even though at first I really did not want to take Aline along (because I had planned this vacation as my first ever vacation alone in an unknown area), we had a great time, and I am glad I did. This way, she got a first glimpse of Southeast Asia, which may well be my future home, and if it turns out that way, hers too. In the checkin queue for Mandalay Air, I brushed up a conversation with the gentleman in front of me who turned out to be a regular visitor of Burma. He -- Adam -- supplied me with plenty of advice, and as we ended up sitting next to each other on the plane, he told me a lot about his business and the friends he was going to meet, eventually inviting me to come along to a lodge in Pyin Oo Lwin, east of Mandalay, for the weekend. Adam apparently knows the drills and by his side, I passed immigration and customs in a jiffy, without having my bags searched and no questions asked (not that I had anything to hide, but it saved us some time). His friends were waiting at the airport and gave me a ride into town (about one hour), dropping me off at a nice hotel right by the railway station. I am not yet decided whether and how long I will come along, but it's certainly a great offer, especially to get in touch with some of the people who could pull the right strings to help me in case of problems, or in the future facilitate further "clothing expeditions" into the country. I am to meet them again for dinner in about an hour but decided to check out the town a bit on feet, as well as investigate the Internet situation. As it turns out, it's pretty much all locked, so if you end up reading this entry, it means I either found a backdoor, or managed to sign up a freemail account somewhere, and mailed it off to a friend with write access to my blog. In Pyin U Lwin, I am supposed to meet James, a British expat who runs the only computer in the town, so maybe I'll be more lucky there. He'll surely be an interesting person to talk to with respect to the Linux CDs I brought along, and the Internet in Burma in general. It's a shame I did not set up a DNS tunnel before the trip, but the connection seems too slow anyway. Oh well, good thing I bought that USB stick! Mandalay so far strikes me very similar to the outskirts of Bangkok or Hanoi, I have not encountered too much poverty yet, but it's generally dirty and loud. I will probably not spend too many days here, but am always flexible to go along with what comes around. I do find myself stared at a lot more than I am used to from other countries on this side of the globe. Usually it takes them a while longer to respond to my smile, but if they do it is generally followed by an invitation to come sit with them. "Generally"... ha! I've only just come here, we'll see what time brings. Stay tuned.