Inle Lake, in the mountains of central Burma was a highlight of our trip to Myanmar. Inle’s iconic fishermen have a peculiar one-leg rowing style they use while standing at the very bow of their boats, a method that allows them to navigate the weeds and shallow waters of the lake while looking for fish. They also use unique cone-shaped nets to fish, often raising them with a foot as they balance precariously on the other leg.
The nearest airport to Inle Lake is Heho (pronounced “hay hoe”) and it is a good 45-50 minute drive from the airport to the nearest full-sized town to the lake, Nyaung Shwe, which sits a fair distance from the lake down a long canal. Lodging options are split between lake resorts and hotels in Nyang Shwe. I loved the idea of an over-water bungalow on the lake, so was sure I wanted to do that. But, I also liked the idea of staying in town to see what that might offer. So, I decided to do both.read more
The final destination on our Irrawaddy flotilla steamer cruise was Bagan (sometimes spelled “Pagan,” always with the accent on the last syllable), an ancient city of thousands of Buddhist stupas and temples. Bagan rivals such sites as Angkor Wat in historical value and size. The 26 square miles of plains on the banks of the Irrawaddy River that comprise the Bagan Archeological Site contain over two thousand of these religious testaments to Buddhist belief that to build a temple or stupa is to earn merit. The temples date back to the 11th century and were built during the reign of the Bagan kings until their civilization was destroyed by earthquakes and Kublai Khan’s invading Mogols.read more
The final stop on our Irrawaddy flotilla steamer cruise before Bagan was the former colonial outpost of Salay. We unfortunately arrived in the heat of the afternoon, maybe because our schedule had been off for the last couple of days due to a 3-hour delay when we ran aground on one of the Irrawaddy’s many sandbars. We’d been warned in advance to expect such minor mishaps and to be flexible, and the delay had been a non-issue for the most part (and actually kind of interesting to watch the maneuvers involved in extricating the boat from its predicament).read more
Although Bagan and its 2000 stupas was the ultimate destination of our river cruise on an Irrawaddy Flotilla Steamer, the first time we saw the city was from across a wide spot in the river and only a few days into our week aboard the steamer. We stopped overnight at Tant Kyi village, so we could visit the hilltop Tant Kyi Taung Pagoda with its sweeping view of the Irrawaddy and Bagan in the distance. Also, being there in the morning allowed us to see the many boats full of locals arrive at sunrise to visit Tant Kyi Taung Pagoda before heading back across the river to Bagan. The point of this early pilgrimage was to try to visit four special pagodas in one day, Tant Kyi Taung and three in Bagan. Yen explained that doing this is said to bring about the granting of a prayer, but the only way to visit all three is to begin in at dawn.read more
Another fun stop on our river steamer cruise down the Irrawaddy was at the large town of Pakkoku (population of about 100,000). As always, we moored at a rough bank of the river, no pier in sight. This time, we hiked up a steep flight of narrow stairs to find ourselves at a single-file footpath along the side of a field. As soon as we made the top of the river bank, we found women waiting to sell us the ubiquitous souvenirs: longyi (the local tube skirts worn by nearly everyone), jewelry, scarves and the like. One woman latched onto me immediately and we went through the now-familiar “you like?/maybe later?” routine. Although they can be persistent, we’ve found the Burmese to be much less pushy than other Asian vendors. Burmese are generally a friendly, cheerful group; the people on the street tend not to make overtures to us first, but they beam back when we smile at them and wave, or greet us with a bright “Mingalaba!,” the local greeting that is sort of a combination of “hello” and “auspiciousness to you.” Vendors do approach or call to us, of course, but they’re not overly aggressive, just hopeful. There was something particularly charming about my new friend, and I found myself considering that “maybe later” as she followed along the footpath with me. At the far end of the field, three larger, truck-style tuk tuks awaited our group. Climbing aboard, we were off on a dirt road through fields and past ox carts until we came to the intersection with a major paved road.read more
One of my favorite stops on our Irrawaddy riverboat cruise was Yandabo, a village known for pottery production. Yandabo is cleaner and more prosperous looking than many of the villages along the Irrawaddy. The government is assisting with funds to build a river wall (erosion being a big problem along the Irrawaddy) and the locals organized to clean up trash (another big problem along the river and in the villages). We were impressed to learn that the entire family of potters we visited had university degrees. Sadly, though, they could earn more making terracotta pots.read more
We’ve really been looking forward to our time on a wooden Irrawaddy Flotilla Steamer. Prior to WWI, the largest river flotilla in the world was on the Irrawaddy River in Burma. Most of these classic teak wood boats were destroyed, either by bombs or by scuttling. Pandaw, the river cruise line I’d chosen, salvaged and restored one of these boats, then built others, copying the original 1930’s style, but with modern updates. I’d carefully chosen our intimately-sized boat and even the side of the boat I wanted our cabin on. So, I was worried and disappointed to read an email from my booking agent the day before we boarded in Mandalay saying we’d been changed to a larger riverboat. A little research revealed this new boat, the Pandaw Orient, was 8 years older than the original, Pandaw Kindat; worse, the Orient had 30 cabins vs. 18 on the Kindat.read more
Yangon was, by necessity, our first stop in Myanmar although I wasn’t overly enthusiastic about the city as a destination. Flights to the country are limited and the vast majority of international flights arrive at Yangon International Airport. Due to an airline schedule change, our already brief 3-night stay was whittled to 2-nights. Yangon turned out to be a really pleasant surprise.
After a 36+ hour flight and layover odyssey, the Yangon Airport was a nice, hassle-free experience. Seated in business class, we were one of the first off the plane and one of the first through customs. We handed over the Myanmar visas we’d obtained online and printed at home, posed for a photo and were stamped into the country, all quick and easy. We were lucky as a line quickly grew after we passed through customs.read more
We’d booked a small group (10 person) tour of the city of Mumbai with fellow Cruise Critic-ers. We were with the same group with whom we’d done the houseboat excursion in the Alappuzha Backwaters and Cochin so it felt like a group of old friends. The cruise terminal in Mumbai is not particularly large or impressive. They’ve broken ground on a new terminal or terminal extension just beside the existing one. Inside the terminal there is some duty free shops with scarves, jewelry and the like. There’s also another security check and immigration check before you can exit the far side.
This is not a port that you can walk out of. Only authorized vehicles are allowed just outside the main terminal door, although our private tour bus (the same company, Muziris Heritage Day Tours, we used in Cochin–see practical info at the end of this post) was able to pick us up just beyond a barrier to the right as we exited (just in front of the construction site for the new terminal building).
Unlike Cochin where we had a 10-passenger mini-bus, this time we were in a full-sized motor coach, a mixed bag. Our guide for the day was a diminutive older Indian woman with a sizable hunchback. Despite her infirmity and her petite size, she was spry and a quick walker. She also spoke excellent English and told us her name means monsoon rain.
Our tour followed an itinerary that seemed pretty prevalent: We drove through colonial English buildings to a main train station to watch the dabbawalas on their amazingly-organized daily delivery of lunch from home to Mumbai’s office workers.
Then, we caught a local train for about a 15-minute ride to Mahalaxmi to view the huge outdoor laundry of Mumbai.
David and I both succumbed there to the impressive sales pitches of a young girl of 9 selling magnets and a lovely young teenage girl selling purses. They’d learned English, they said, selling on the streets. An impressive feat, and we could only wish the future held more real schooling for these bright, but poor, girls.
Our bus picked us back up at the laundry and drove us to the Krishna Radhagopinath Temple to view a ceremony in progress.
We rode along the seafront promenade to the Gateway of India, a 1924 triumphal arch built to commemorate the visit of English King George V and Queen Mary. Locals gathered at the large square in front of the arch, taking photos of themselves…and us. Throughout India, we were asked to pose for photos with locals. Our guide confirmed that the motivation was our “white skin.”
After the Gateway, we had an hour to kill at the swank Taj Mahal Palacce Hotel. This was our least favorite part of the tour as the Taj Mahal Palace Hotel is Mumbai’s equivalent of the Ritz, with equivalent prices for restaurant options and high-end Western designer shops. There was nothing of interest to us there (other than the heavenly air conditioning and luxe restrooms).
Our group split up here and David and I ended up ducking into Le 15 Café in Colaba, a French café just around the corner from the Taj Mahal Palace. It wasn’t the Indian food we’d envisioned for our last meal in India, but they did take credit cards (We had no rupees and didn’t want to change money this late in the game.), had great air conditioning, decent prices and good sandwiches. We also struck up a conversation with a young woman from New Jersey who’d moved back to her parents’ home city to try her luck starting an IT business.
After lunch, we battled our way through Mumbai traffic, past the University of Mumbai to a photo stop in front of the classic Victoria Station (see lead photo above), and on to Crawford Market, also known as Mahatma Jotibe Phule Market. The market was a large, bustling affair selling produce to locals as well as dry goods and spices to locals and tourists. Traffic is especially horrific in Mumbai now as the roads are torn up everywhere while the city installs a much-needed subway system.
All in all, we enjoyed seeing Mumbai, although it was our least favorite India stop on this cruise. Unlike our other ports of call in India (Cochin and Goa), Mumbai has banned cows on the streets and tuk tuks. We saw lots of garbage and poverty as elsewhere in India, but there was definitely a more cosmopolitan, urbane vibe to Mumbai. Of course, this was a only brief glimpse of the city, so opinion here is limited to our experience and the tour we took in Mumbai versus what we did in the ports of Cochin and Goa.
I had mixed feelings overall about this tour of Mumbai. The main con for us was the lunch break at the Taj Mahal Palace Hotel. I wasn’t wild about the larger motor coach, but watching taxis stuck in traffic, I couldn’t help but think we were cooler and more comfortable. Sitting higher also allowed us to see over the mass of cars (and we weren’t breathing exhaust fumes like many of the people we saw in cars, taxis and on motorcycles). The biggest pros were our knowledgeable guide, the professionalism of the tour company, and the quality of the bus. Our guide’s timing was excellent so that we managed to be on site just as the dabbawalas, those amazing lunch delivery men, began their routine near the train station. We also arrived just in time to watch a ceremony at the Krishna Radhagopinath Temple, remaining right up until the end. We passed another group of tourists on our way out whose guide had delivered them to the spot just in time to miss the ceremony entirely.
Practical Stuff: We paid Muziris Heritage Day Tours $80 per person for this tour. The bus was clean, in good condition, and well-air-conditioned. It arrived and dropped us off promptly. We were able to pay in US dollars at the end of the tour. They also accepted credit cards with a 3% surcharge.
I decided that Goa was the Indian port where we’d go it on our own. Researching ahead of the trip, I’d read warnings about Goa port taxis (the “taxi mafia”) and local newspapers decried the state of affairs at the port and the port authority’s slow pace at installing a promised taxi stand with fixed prices that cruise ship passengers could trust. Happily, we arrived to find that a taxi stand was now in place and the system works smoothly and cheaply. Goa turned out to be fun, cheap, and just what we wanted.
Immigration booths are set up on the dock just outside the ship’s ramps. Just beyond immigration is a money exchange that takes both cash and debit cards. Right next to the money exchange is the official taxi stand. Cash is required for the taxis. Eight tours are offered in guests’ choice of a compact car or SUV. Alternatively, you can create your own itinerary and rent either a car or SUV for 8 hours with either 100, 125 or 150 kilometers. Any overage is charged at a very reasonably 14 rupees/km to be paid directly to the driver. All vehicles are air-conditioned.
We opted for 8 hours with a compact taxi and 100 kilometers since I wanted to see Old Goa (“Velha Goa”) and then spend time on one of Goa’s famous beaches. (I calculated distance and drive time in advance using Google Maps: We’d basically be traveling a triangle with about 1 hour of driving on each leg.) Our total cost was 1700 rupees (just under $30), an awesome deal, especially when compared to the sky-high tour prices offered by Celebrity. (For example, Celebrity wanted $109.75 each–$219.50!–for transfer to and from a beach where we’d get 4 hours free time and lunch at a beach-side restaurant. And no Old Goa included in that excursion.)
We paid for our taxi, got a voucher in exchange with the license plate number of our taxi and the driver’s name and were directed to walk to the nearby port gate where someone would help us find our taxi.
There’s a bit of a chaotic air outside the gate with lots of taxis and drivers milling about, but with the help of some of the drivers standing around, we quickly found our taxi.
I was a little worried at first when our driver brusquely shrugged off my first choice of a South Goa beach, saying he would take us to another just a bit farther on that was also on my list of 3 beaches I was interested in (provided by a native-Goan assistant waiter on the ship). Not absolutely wedded to my first choice, I went along with his suggestion. Our next point of contention came when we pulled out of the port and he seemed to disagree with David’s request to roll up the window and turn on the air conditioning. A crazy idea in the brutal heat! We told him we’d get out of the car if he didn’t turn on the air conditioning and he acceded. After those initial conflicts, I was worried we’d be stuck for the day with a surly driver, but he was fine after that and took good care of us for the rest of the day. His English was limited, so some of the subtleties were no doubted missed on all sides.
The main roads we traveled to Old Goa were in great shape and obviously newly paved and expanded. Still, it’s an hour drive from the port at Mormugao to Old Goa due to winding roads and small towns that we had to pass through. We drove through the city of Vasco da Gama, pausing for a quick visit at a Hindu temple before continuing to to Old Goa.
Our first stop in Old Goa was at the ruins of the Church of St. Augustine, built in 1602 by the Portuguese. The sole remaining tower belfry created a dramatic highlight to the extensive ruins of the church and adjoining convent.
Our driver waited while we wandered the ruins, then informed us that we would stop at 3 shops before continuing on to the churches that form the center of Old Goa. We weren’t thrilled about the all-too-common store detour, but quickly realized this was something our driver needed to do. We gamely looked around the first store, a glitzy place reminiscent of People’s Stores in China, offering high-priced trinkets, jewelry, furniture and more. There were some lovely things, but we had absolutely no interest. Heck, most of our belongings are in storage during this vagabond period of our life! I tried to talk our driver out of the second store, but had no luck so we made an even shorter stop. (We ran into a group cruise excursion at that 2nd store and we were more than happy to be free to leave as they were stuck until the last person had made a purchase or made their way through the long line for the toilets.) Back in the taxi, I told our driver we would go in the last shop, but only “for him.” No, he insisted, “for you.” We back-and-forthed that a couple of times, but all in good humor. David and I made one last, speedy stop in a nearly empty store–taking advantage of the clean, western-style toilets and no line–and finally we were on our way the few blocks to the center of Old Goa.
Our driver let us off near some souvenir stalls, pointed the way to the Bom Jesus Basilica and then indicated how we should proceed to the other sites and where to meet him when we were through. He left the length of our visit entirely up to us.
With the Indian school summer vacation (April-May) in full swing, most of the tourists to the basilica appeared to be Indian families, although we spotted some fellow cruise ship passengers inside. We joined a line to file to the right of the main altar and to a back section of the church that held a holy relic, a large excessively-bloody crucifix and other religious items. We circled an inner courtyard before exiting the basilica to head across the road to the main grounds of the Archeological Survey of India, which consists of a manicured lawn area surrounding seven churches, cathedrals, the basilica and an archeological museum. We opted to skip the museum, but took in the grand Se’ Cathedral and the smaller, but beautifully-painted Church of St. Francis of Assisi (both free-of-charge).
Walking the short distance back to the road, we met our driver and started off on the approximately 1-hour drive to Colva Beach. I’d originally wanted to visit the smaller, less-visited Betelbatim Beach which is adjacent to Colva, but at our driver’s suggestion/insistence, Colva it was. At first, I was worried that he’d steered us to an over-crowded, cheesy touristy beach, thinking that was what we Westerners must want. The area just around the main access to the beach is dotted with tourist shops and little dive-y cafes. Lots of people milled about, too. Hmm. Not looking great. At least they were locals and we weren’t stuck in a Western-style resort. We walked over a small footbridge to the beach and saw that a string of casual waterfront restaurants spread out to our left along a naturally wide white-sand beach.
Happily, we could see that the throng thinned out pretty quickly further away from the main access road. We took off our shoes and strolled through the delightfully warm water to the last restaurant, Luke’s Place, attracted by both the look of the place and the location in spite of the uninspiring and less-than-exotic name.
Noticing another Western couple on two of a string of otherwise-unoccupied lounge chairs under an umbrella in front of the restaurant, I asked if they spoke English and discovered they were English and had been staying near this beach and frequenting this restaurant for two weeks. The woman was wearing a bikini and assured me I’d get no odd looks or hassles for wearing my bathing suit at Colva, despite the fact that all the local women were wading into the ocean in full saris. (I couldn’t believe how casually they treated those gorgeous dresses!) We did have the usual people wanting to take photos with us pale-skinned foreigners. I told David that in our “skimpy” Western bathing suits, it must be for them like Victorian travelers posing with topless natives! The Brits also informed us that the restaurant made excellent food, the large (strong) Kingfisher beer was a good buy, and that the owner would watch our things if we used the lounge chairs and they’d had absolutely no problems. Proving their point, they wandered off for a long stroll, leaving their belongings. This sounded perfect and turned out to be just that.
We enjoyed a good, made-to-order Indian food meal (only Indian rupees accepted) with a great view, then planted ourselves on the cushioned loungers to sunbathe a little before swimming in the ocean. I lost my sunglasses to some great body-surfing and stupidity, but oh well. It was high time I retired those anyway…and I felt pretty sure I could find a cheap pair in India to tide me over until I got back home where I had a good pair waiting.
The ride back to the ship was about another hour and we rolled into the port parking lot, using all but about a half a kilometer of the 100 km we’d paid for. Not bad!