Good morning...
We dropped into yet another small town on the West Bank of the Irrawaddy...which I can find no mention of in any guide book. It is, of course, an old colonial town. The town once guarded the border between Royal (to the north) and British Myanmar, following the 2nd Anglo-British War of 1852. Many of the buildings in town are similar old blackened dilapidated colonial buildings from that time.

The jetty today did not look initially quite as promising as yesterday...but shovels out and steps were cut into the bank, and we were once again man handled up the steep bank. This is clearly how life has been along the Irrawaddy. No doubt if there were real jetties they would be washed away in the monsoon every year. From the "tide water mark" on the bridge we passed yesterday one got the idea of the increased volume in the rainy season...many many feet.

One of the objectives of this trip is to make sure we try all modes of transportation used in Myanmar...today it was horse and cart. Usually these carts hold 4 people...but for us...just 2 per cart...taller and bigger than Burmese. Again the carts and owners were delighted so many of us dropped into town...as were the town folks judging by their amusement as we wound through the narrow streets. I now put riding in carts pulled by horses in Myanmar over rough streets in the same category I put camel riding...did it...don't have to again in this life. I felt a bit like a kid in a car wondering "Are we there yet?"

We were "treated" to another 45 minutes in a market. So we ducked low, smiled and clicked away with the camera. Gary and I found sugar cane candy which we had tried in Yangon...offered it around, but everyone looked aghast and declined. We like it...no ill effects.

As you have seen from my photos most of the men in Myanmar wear longyis from boyhood on up. This became everyday wear during the British era, with the arrival of immigrants from India wearing their traditional lightweight cotton lungis. Longyis are usually made in sober plaid patterns. Women wear htameins....in vivid hues and designs. The women attending the wedding yesterday were beautifully dressed. Today in the market I was wound up in a piece of cloth which I now have to make into a htameins for Gill for Christmas...I mean look at the colours...black, purple and silver!

Back into the carts for the ride through the streets to where the British had their military headquarters in the 1850's. It is now mostly one for Myanmar military...but there is a left over bit that proved that some of the British military were from Scotland, had time on their hands and cheap labour nearby.

We turned a corner and I could spot a red flag waving through the trees...the oldest golf course in Myanmar, built in 1887 came into view. While the British were in charge members had reciprocal arrangements with St Andrews! The grounds keeping (including cattle) and hand cranked mower will not be the envy of Morgan Creek. Alas we didn't have time for Gary and me to play a round, and we met none of the current 123 members to swap golf stories with. You never know what you will come across when you are travelling! Oh and to be honest neither Gary nor I sunk one of our 5 putts we were each allocated...so we aren't going to be bringing home the cup!

Good bye for now...another day on the river...tough life

Love Doreen