Kalaw to Inle Lake

We arrive to Kalaw at, yes, 3 in the morning.  We easily find a guesthouse and crash out.  Nicole catches up on sleep and I walk about the little town.  I get a kick out of all the little kids screaming De Ga La Ba at top of their lungs, accompanied by an enthusiastic wave and smile.  I wave back heartily and keep heading into the hills on this crisp afternoon, making it back just in time to watch a passing storm from the comfort of our guesthouse balcony.  We book a trek to Inle and eat some delicious Nepali food (I actually had lunch and dinner here), just enjoying the relatively cool and dry weather.

Stairway to Heaven, Cloud Hill

Can't-fail-startup idea!  I thought Jeff would appreciate this.

Kalaw from Cloud Hill.

Begin our two day hike to Inle.  We group up with Nora from France, Jack from England, and Kate from America for our journey.  Our guide's name is Ku Ku and we are delighted to get to speak English with her and learn about Myanmar's culture and history.  Throughout the hike she offers an appropriate level of information while still letting have our quiet moments of being lost in the scenery.

And it is quite stunning.  The farmland is rich in iron, giving off a deep red color that contrasts nicely with the lush greenery.  We stop at villages along the way for tea and get to see a traditional weaver work away.  This lady's hands were impressive.  Weathered but steady and firm, her many veins showing down from forearm to knuckle.  We continue onward, seeing limestone mines and a boy riding an enormous water buffalo.  It's hard to keep listing.  The feeling is peaceful, and I let myself fall to the back of the group to indulge in reveries of home.  Any time I go hiking I wish my sister could be with me.  Even when running I would sometimes imagine a ghostly apparition of her beside me (a là Mario Kart time trial style), exchanging encouragements.  The walk to Inle was not by any means strenuous, but I bet she would've found a way to make it a good workout.  I imagine each turn and incline of the PG&E trail in fast forward and it still feels so vivid in my mind, much like the drive to Santa Barbara or even the "closed" trails I used to run during lunch breaks in Fort Ord.  I know that once is not enough to commit any place to memory, but I find that walking a route makes me feel the most connected to a place.  Especially when you run the same trails and see your own footprints from the day before, and sometimes they're pointed another direction.  It's a nice time to delve into my mind and enjoy some kinetic connection with the earth.  In trampling form.

Da-yum Burma, you purdy!

This awesome lady treats us to a fine lunch.

This woman sells shoulder bags for about 3,000 kyats, approx. $3 USD.
Each one takes three days to make.

Nightmarish tree fungus?

Despite catching a cold virus before the hike, I do just fine for the physical activity bit.  We stay at a quaint little village with a family of five.  We chat around the table until sunset and enjoy a nice meal by candlelight.  Burmese food is typically very oily and heavy and I'm not that into it, but our meals during this hike prove to be a delicious exception.  The fruits and salads and soups sit well with us as we get ready for an early bedtime.

Save for lights running on previously accumulated solar power, the village is dark beyond the dark we grow accustomed to in any city.  The crepusclar silence gives way to the cacophony of insects.  We watch a far-off storm deliver copious bolts of lightning to the ground (or adjacent clouds) at half second intervals, the thunder being so distant as to be imperceptible.  We occasionally think we hear a blast emerge in between the copious wing stridulation, but we can't unanimously say so.  It might just be our imagination.  Reality at such a distance remains unconfirmed.

Nighttime exacerbates my symptoms and I hardly catch a wink.  Also mosquitoes buzzing the control tower incessantly.  My pillow feels like a sack of bricks to my tender neck and head, so I sit upright as long as I can before trying again, just hoping sleep will overtake me this time around.

Dawn finally breaks around 5:30.  We eat and get back on the trail to Inle.  Today is more of the same but when the same is so nice you don't exactly yearn for novelty.  We stop under the shade of an enormous tree sporting elephantine branches.  The root system must be quite sturdy as the limbs can support our weight even as far as 25 feet from the center with minimal flex.  I pretend I'm slacklining and see how far I can make it up the tree.  Nicole and I receive some nice battle scars from the climb.  We befriend a canine companion at our halfway point and he accompanies us for several hours.  We lose track of him at one point but he eventually finds his own way to our lunch destination.

We arrive to the southwestern edge of Inle Lake and take a long boat through miles of rice fields to reach the main body of water.  We spot some local fisherman doing an impressive display of angling which involves standing one-footed on the edge of a skiff while paddling the water with an oar fixed to the other leg.  This allows them to move through the water at a decent clip while their hands are free to manage fishing lines or traps.  Extreme standup paddleboarding.  My friend Kris would be a natural Burmese angler.

We haul ass through the water to the deafening thump of the longboat's diesel engine, blasting our ears from behind while the sun blasts our skin from above.  Boom.  I make use of the provided umbrellas which are standard issue.

We follow Nora to her hotel to see if they have rooms available and we go from there.  Nicole takes a rest day and I accompany Nora to a nearby winery by bicycle.  I take a moment to remember how much of a luxury the fresh air is after coming from Yangon just a few days ago.  We enjoy some wine with a few Californian friends, gush over the decadence of wine and collectively daydream of Ethiopian food, then walk through the lush vineyard before parting ways.  We watch the storms move across the lake.

At early breakfast I sit down with a delightful Englishman named Toby, similarly afflicted by a cold virus and awesomeness, and we manage to talk for a solid three hours before we realize it.  We share travel stories and books and observations and it's clear to me that he's my cup of tea.  We invite him to accompany us to Bagan and where ever else we might go, and thus Team Nicole grows another appendage for a while, at least one with more refined sensibilities and taste (bringing up the average dramatically).

Class out the ass.