During my travels in Southeast Asia, I had several chats with a fellow traveller from Portugal, who also seemed to enjoy Haruki Murakami, and other works by modern Japanese authors. She was surprised to hear I did not like Norwegian Wood, which was her first Murakami, and brimmed over with enthusiasm about discussing Murakami (who's been my favourite author for about a year now), I promised to reread the book to find out just why I didn't like it. Here's what I came up with:

Norwegian Wood was the one of Murakami's novels that I didn't like at all, wish I had never read, and by which I felt "cheated" and let down by what may well be my favourite author for the time being -- well, maybe Dance Dance Dance is also one of those. It was previously impossible for me to determine exactly why I felt so bad about the book, which made this reread a little more challenging -- and rather interesting in the end. Norwegian Wood was my third Murakami novel, after I had read the Wild Sheep Chase and After the Quake. Up front those reasons that I think made me dislike the book the first time around: the story line of Norwegian Wood is absolutely boring and way too autobiographical, and the ending is painfully artificial. In fact, half way through the book, the story takes a turn (I cannot pinpoint the exact moment), around which I often put down the book in refusal, annoyed and disappointed. If I say that the story line is boring, I mean that it's a boring foundation, but as with all stories, it's in the author's hands to make it into an exciting novel. Murakami fails in this novel, in my opinion (he claims he set out to achieve something else, that this book was a challenge to him). Anyway, I do remember from my first reading that I really liked the tension and potential in the character interplay Murakami describes in the first half of the book, and I anticipated a deadlock between them, which would have to be solved by Watanabe (the main character) in a lose-lose type of resolution. However, what happens is that everything sort of resolves itself, dragging the characters along. It never touches once on paradoxical or supernatural elements as found in most other Murakami novels, which is a shame. Furthermore, it's a love story, and one with too many romantic and melancholic moments for my taste. Upon rereading (having gone through another four Murakami books in the mean time), I noticed a number of other things that disturbed me, or otherwise came in perpendicular to my taste: Toru Watanabe, the main character, aged around 20, goes through a great deal of effort to make sure the world knows he's just ordinary. Yet, the way he swings life is just a little too good for the ordinary. Throughout the book, you get the impression that he's not very happy or satisfied with his life, yet if you look at the days he fills, you'll tend to see them as complete. This turns Watanabe into a grouchy pessimist, and that mood transferred to me as the reader. On a side note: one thing I definitely like about Murakami's main characters (at least those I have met) is their self-sufficiency: the whole world could vanish and still they'd continue doing what they always did. In some ways, I have found myself in those characters, but more often I find myself looking up to them and wishing I could be like that. Watanabe is, however, just too much of a polished character (and with that I don't mean polished to be good, just polished), and one that seems to do everything right when it comes to the moral level. Sure, he asks himself about moral issues here or there, but my feeling was always that Murakami put those monologues in for completeness, not for character. I find it hard to imagine a boy between the ages of 17 and 21 (which is the years the book covers) with traits like Watanabe, and such integrity: he's never dishonest or even plagued by the possibility, and he appears to be consciously doing everything he does. He ends up in bed (or close by) with one of several girls he devours on a number of occasions, but each time stays in absolute control, not allowing himself to "do it", or accepting whatever excuse comes =66rom the girl. I don't mean to say that this by itself is unlike a boy at his age, but I guess what I am really lacking is a reflection on his thoughts, or at least some insight, which Murakami withholds each time. It would have added a lot of tension to those moments, made them even a bit erotic (which despite all the sex and sexual references, I found none of the book to be). Finally, there is almost no character development in the novel. Even though the time span of the novel spans a very important time in the development of a boy, he does not change much, nor does his perception of the characters around him (the book is told in the first person). In the end, despite a serious lack of motivation to read on throughout most of the text, I think I did learn to appreciate it after all. On the one hand, Murakami hides many little gems of thoughts in the conversations with Midori, the girl ready to shake up Toru's life, which often have Zen-character ("I wonder what ants do on rainy days"), and it did take me a reread to notice those -- and I smiled every time I did. On the other hand, the reread did allow me to get a closer look at the relationships between the characters, and how Murakami explores them, mostly with parallels referencing the past. He remains in my eyes as one of the most imaginative writers of modern literature, and while it strikes me as easier to be imaginative in an imaginary story, the challenge is all the more as you move into real life, and in this case: real life as tangible as it gets because of the elements of love.

I am still looking forward to my next novel, which will either be Murakami's Wind-Up Bird Chronicle (which is said to be his best), a book recommended to me by the aforementioned traveller (Lizard by Banana Yoshimoto), or one suggested today by my physiotherapist, but I fail to recall the name at this moment and shall have to wait until I receive my next treatment on Wednesday.

My last day in Bangkok is hardly worth writing about, I mostly ran around meeting people and trying to get the last things done, before getting on the plane at 23:30 that night. I did meet the Jim Thompson retail manager and had an interesting two and a half hour lunch with her (she is quite a character, and it won't be the last time I've visited her), subsequently went to visit the Jim Thompson museum. Then, I stopped by the dreadful Khaosan Road to pick something up for a friend and left as quickly as I could. The "tourist centre" of Bangkok is now even more horrible than the last time I went there, buzzing with improperly dressed (sex and beach) tourists, and lined with shops ripping them off. I found myself getting rather annoyed watching this crowd, who are all representatives of the West and are thus painting quite a despicable picture. Coming back to the hotel, I still wasn't allowed to take a shower by the unfriendly hotel staff, but was lucky when an englishman heard my cries and offered his room for a quick rinse. Feeling a lot better, I made my way to the airport and passed the three hours waiting time with my new Murakami book. The flight itself was okay, despite the Swedish couple next to me. Apparently it must have been their first long distance flight, and they could not get enough "free drinks," so while the guy was stashing away cans of beer into his bag, the girl ordered a beer, whiskey on the rocks, and red wine all at the same time, then kept complaining to her boyfriend that she wasn't feeling well. As I was sitting on the aisle, I had to get up to let one of them out every 15 minutes or so (they refused to climb over me), so you can imagine how I felt when we finally landed in Vienna, 11 hours later. At least they have excellent coffee at the airport to soothe the pain, and by the time I learnt that my Swiss flight back to Zurich was delayed by almost two hours, I had already stopped worrying and just took everything with a smile. So now I am back home and somewhat sad. Running over to the supermarket to fill the fridge for the weekend was depressive, and I am sort of reluctant to catch on with real life again, but who wouldn't be after any vacation. Enough whining... My cousin and travel companion on last year's trip to Southeastasia found it amusing that my previous travel reports continuously switched between expressions of displeasure with a certain sight, and statements that I'd have to return soon. Both are true; I have been disappointed a number of times during the time in Myanmar, but I attribute that largely to following the "beaten track," the route all tourists go. Now that I've seen the most popular sights, I am ready to get off the beaten track the next time and get to know the country as it really is, not as it has been shaped to meet the demands of tourists. As I stated before, I have much more to say about my trip than I am willing to do publicly. In case you are interested in my thoughts, please drop me a line and let me know briefly how I know you, or why you are reading my blog anyway, just so I can make sure that I know who'll be reading my comments. If you have gotten an email from me, advertising the blog before the trip, you need not let me know. But before you get your hopes up, these aren't going to be revolutionary thoughts I have to keep away from the public; instead, they are just personal ramblings, not censored for the general public.

I spent my last evening in Yangon at "Sandy's Myanmar Cuisine", a wonderful restaurant (albeit a little pricey, I paid $10 for appetiser, main dish, and two beers) overlooking the Kandawgyi lake, attached to the Yangon Kandawgyi Palace hotel; dinner was duck eggs filled with minced prawns, followed by boiled snake-head fish, wrapped in moringa leaves. Quite delicious, although I would have really liked to try their pig ear salad, but they rightfully alerted me that their pig ears weren't fresh. Afterwards, I treated myself to perhaps the second-best back massage I've ever received (the first one was delivered by a massage therapist from Berkeley, whom I had met on the boat down the Mekong to Luang Prabang last year. Before the airport the next morning, I made a stop at the Yangon MICT, specifically the Myanmar Info-Tech company, to meet William, the Myanmar Linux Guru #1. Unfortunately, he was busy at the 5th Myanmar ICT week, so I sat in one of the talks instead and was very pleased to learn that there is an active (but small) group of people working hard on localisation of Pango to the Burmese and Pali languages (the latter being the ancient Buddhist language, and the acceptance of the Burmese character set into Unicode 4.0. I exchanged email addresses with a few of the folks involved, who were well familiar with Debian and Ubuntu, and rather interested in teaming up. I'll forward their addresses to the localisation people as soon as I get back. With still some time left before check-in, I enjoyed my last Myanmar-style breakfast -- Mohinga -- which is a spicey fish soup with noodles, and definitely the best way to start the day; I'll miss it. At the airport, I was getting mildly annoyed once again at their security procedures, which in part required everyone to surrender their gas lighters. Of course, I had four of those on me and in my hand luggage, but when I refused to give them all of them, pointing to the smoker's lounge on the far side of the security check, they held their heads low and gave in. I bet they do this primarily to sell the lighters for some cash on the side, given that nowhere else in Myanmar, or flying to Myanmar, I was asked to do the same. My chaotic self managed to also leave the info brochure from the Info-Tech company, as well as the slides from the talks at the immigration counter, which promptly got me into a questioning by the military as to what kind of documents these were (they cannot speak English in general). With the help of a local, I told them all about localisation and they seemed impressed, but when I finally got on the plane, I guess I felt somewhat of a relief to be outside this tightly-controlled country again. I landed in Bangkok and took a taxi to the hotel, only to discover that thanks to a power outage and the crappy Internet connection back in Mandalay, I had managed to book the wrong one. Instead of central Sukhumvit, I am now staying at Soi 57, which is 4 km further outside of the city. That wouldn't be a problem, for the sky train station is right in front of the hotel, but the staff have not had a lesson in friendliness and generally barked back rather than answering my requests. Plus, since my flight tomorrow is only at 23:30 and I requested to take a shower at 20:00 before taking off (having otherwise checked out and cleared my room), they simply shoved a sign into my face which stated that check-out after 16:00 hours would cost a full day's room rate, and that they did not have any showers available otherwise. Screw that. I'll make sure to let asiarooms.com know in the form of a review. Having settled, and with a bunch of Thai Baht left to spend, I headed for the center, bought myself another Murakami book ("Hardboiled Wonderland and the End of the World"; I seriously love this author), and then proceeded to spend money as fast as I could -- and I am not good at that. I got another massage, bought some bamboo plates and one of those gravity-defying wine bottle holders, a bunch of DVDs, had dinner, and then didn't feel like anything more, so I went back home. As usual, coming back to Bangkok is quite a disappointment (while arriving at Bangkok at the beginning of a trip is a thrill). The city is busy, dirty, and noisy, it's all comparatively expensive (even if you bargain hard), and people are so much more into making money that it's not really possible to get in touch with locals. Then again, I cannot figure out whether my disappointment stems from the shopping mode (into which I was put by several requests to bring back stuff), this being the end of my vacation, or just being back in a metropole after so many rural days. Almost no plans for tomorrow. I might have to make my way to the dreadful Khaosan Road to pick up some student IDs for friends, I would like to (finally) see the snake farm, and I have a lunch appointment with the retail manager of Jim Thompson (the famous silk exporter), who happens to be a friend of Adam, the guy I met in Mandalay, and who introduced me to her -- no worries, I am not getting into the silk business, nor will I spend money there, but the lady is supposed to be quite a character and fun to talk to. Why not? If I wake up, it'll be Tai Chi in Lumpini Park at around 5:30, and if there's time in the afternoon, I'll make my way up north to the biggest market of Bangkok (don't have the name handy). In general, not such an exciting day, waiting to return to Europe. Sigh.

I am nearing the end of my trip, and have arrived in Yangon late yesterday. Fortunately, as I got to the airport, there was yet another change in schedule, and I only had to make one stopover in Mandalay as opposed to a second one in Bagan. And if it hadn't been for the French package tourists, wo were nasty (= unwashed, or with a really bad perfume), smelly (I think they all suffered from diarrhoea and couldn't control their exhausts) and rather obnoxious (= loud, and unwilling to speak English, aggrevating themselves why the Burmese wouldn't talk French to them), I might well have enjoyed the trip. I did finish Murakami's book as we touched down in Yangon, and I really enjoyed it. Give it a week, then I'll know whether it has replaced "Wild Sheep Chase" as my favourite of his books. One problem overshadowed the entire day, nevertheless, and I think it must relate to bad food the night before at the Four Sisters Inn in Nyaung Shwe (not meaning to badmouth them, such things can happen): Around noon, I started feeling nausea every now and then, and my stomach apparently meant to tell me that something's not right, my belly feeling hot to the touch. I was then sure I'd come down with another food poisoning, but so far (24 hours later), my body has not revolted yet and the symptoms are fading, so maybe it's strong enough to cope without sending me to bed for a day. Which would be rather unfortunate. The hotel, which I prearranged over the Internet, is nice, and in a very good location. Upon arrival, I tried to score new reading material at one of the bookstores but found them closed already, so I ate some food at the market (not giving my stomach a break, really), had a couple of beers at a small bar, and finally fell asleep to a crap action movie involving a kidnapping and many cellphones on the TV, with the intention not to get out of bed until I could not sleep anymore. And that I did. When I finally went to breakfast, it was almost 9 o'clock, which is averagely three hours later than the last two weeks, and tried to figure out what to do for the day. Of course, I am haunted by bad spirits because even here in Myanmar, which is not socialist (anymore), the first of May is still a holiday, meaning that most sights and shops (including the ENglish bookstore) are closed for the day. I'll thus consider just roaming the streets, getting out of the heat at noon to watch a movie at the cinema (which is supposed to be a big event on holidays), write some more blog entries, and then possibly hire a guide for Shwedagon Paya towards the evening, 2-3 hours before sunset. Thanks for reading along.

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.