Chin villages, tattoos and curiosities
The next morning we start calmly, because today we continue to Mrauk U or as it´s also said: Miauuuu. At the airport in Thandwe the usual chaos reigns only with the difference that this time there is no little man holding up a sign on which the flight number is written. There is simply no one who can help you. In between, some people just leave their places and walk towards the runway. When it’s our turn? I don’t know! After 5 groups have left the waiting area, I get a bit nervous and we ask them. The next plane it is, we learn in half English and half Burmese. Well, It’s not, of course. And every time we ask, we get the same answer. The next one is. Eventually, there will be a man, the one from the check-in. Since we are the only white ones on the flight anyway, it is not quite so hard for him to recognize us. I don’t know how the Burmese do it, he really can’t remember so many faces.
The flight is quite short, lasts only one hour and is relatively quiet despite the propeller engine. When we land Mirko himself picks up our backpacks directly from the luggage van. By the way, nobody cares if we have the right luggage. A grim-looking official interviews us again before the entry about where exactly we want to go, because here some areas are completely closed for tourists. Shortly afterwards, our guide, whom I recruited from Germany via Trip Advisor, welcomes us and we head towards Mrauk U. The journey takes about 4 hours and on larger parts of the route there is no road at all. But in return we see the construction work on a new road. Very interesting by the way, because here a concrete layer is simply applied to the old one. First only one side of the road is built, so that the cars can still drive on the old, broken side, or better said in the dust. It’s also nice that on the side of the newly built road half the steel bars look out and every car driving too close will tear open at least 2 tires in 100% of the cases. Road construction in Myanmar is traditional women’s work, by the way. Everywhere at the edge you can see women of all ages sitting turning large boulders into gravel with small hammers. In terms of efficiency, I cannot imagine that the road will be finished within the next 10 years.
What also stands out is that there’s an awful lot of military here. Felt there is some guarded barrier every 10 meters. We even see a brand-new military helicopter, which I find quite strange. When we finally reach our hotel in the evening we are really finished and only want 2 things, namely what food and then to bed. After the first inspection of our room I’m not quite sure if I want to go to bed, because this looks more like a complete dump and has the ugliest bedside lamp in the world a pink monster including an alarm clock with a kitschy dolphin. That’s the ugliest thing anyone could ever think of. At least the phenomenal lamp distracts from the cleanliness of the rest of the room. At least 30 very, very fat and well nourished mosquitoes live here, which feed exclusively on western tourist blood, and there is also Cinderella, the approximately palm-sized spider in our bathroom. Oh, and the holes in our bungalow door are expertly filled with toilet paper. At least there’s electricity and hot water. Well, let’s say „mostly“, because we have at least half the night power outage.
The Chin Villages
The next morning we meet our guide Myint and want to visit the Chin villages together. But first we drive to the medicine man’s village, where all prescription drugs are of course available without prescription and exclusively in individual pills. You just show the medicine man family what you have and they pack a pack of useful medicines. Body language is of course due to a lack of English skills here in the advanced level to master. Mirko has two rather badly inflamed open flesh wounds, which have meanwhile taken the size of a 2 Euro piece. At the beginning we suspected that it might have been a burn from the Taunggyi Festival, because we were standing in the middle of the raining fireworks. But we’re not really sure, it could have been a nasty mosquito that caused the inflammation. Of course, I had to talk him into it for three days before he let Sister Moni in. Only alcohol, iodine tincture and zinc powder with antibiotics can help. We also purchase some gauze bandages in case of emergency and some plasters. The Burmesiche name is: „Sri Flas Tar“ and for the whole bag full of things we pay about one Euro. Anybody else need medication?
A special Tuk Tuk
Then it goes about 2 hours over the absolutely worst road we have seen so far. In Germany one would drive on this road exclusively with an all-wheel drive vehicle or however with a tractor, here it goes also with a Pick Up Tuk Tuk in the first course. By the way, the Tuk Tuk is a total highlight. Actually we should have a real car, but since our driver from yesterday has other things to do, we drive with the pickup, which was specially converted for spoiled Europeans. On the loading area there are not the usual 2 benches on the sides but there are 2 real welded car seats especially for us in driving direction. I almost burst into tears laughing, that’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. After we have let ourselves be rocked the whole distance by the village, several goats and dogs turn around, which have looked for a shady place in the potholes of the street and naturally also after penetrating honking not want to get up, we arrive at the „port“. The harbour, however, is a river fork where a few unsuitable boats lie. Afterwards we drive at least 2 more hours with exactly such a boat upriver to get to the Chin villages. I say at least we have pretty white curtains with blue pril flowers.
The Chin are a minority in Myanmar who have their villages on the edge of the river. They speak both Burmese and Chin, so they speak their own language. There are about 30 older ladies here with face tattoos. I read in my guide that tattoos are now forbidden, but my guide amuses me. Nowadays nobody wants to have them from the young women anymore and there is no one left who can do these traditional tattoos. In general, he finds the idea of a tattoo ban quite insane, because after all, everyone in the next big city can get tattoos. I have to say, Myint is toally right! It used to have a meaning, by the way. On the one hand each village had its own tattoo pattern and on the other hand the women could not simply be stolen from other villages. The people live right next to the riverbed on which everything can be cultivated because of the fertile soil. Today I really see for the first time what the plant of a peanut looks like. Pretty embarrassing is that so far I was of the opinion that there is a peanut bush at which the things grow. It makes a lot of sense, which is why a peanut is called „earth nut“ in german, if it does not grow in the soil. Well, in my defense, I might be able to argue that I’m not a farmer’s daughter, but a locksmith’s daughter.
The Pied Piper of Hamelin
Our guide brought a pack of cookies for the children in the village and it doesn’t take long before a whole horde has gathered around us. Everyone gets 2 cookies in turn and all of them are very good and hold out their hands just once. So while we are walking through the village with Myint as the Pied Piper from Hamelin, about 4 meters away sits a three-year-old who is about to open a coconut with a machete. Any mother in Germany would probably have torn the thing out of the small one’s hand in 3 milliseconds. But here it all seems perfectly normal. Luckily, we can distract him with the cookie before he cuts off his fingers.
The rest of the village just left. The men are hunting in the jungle and the women are cutting down bamboo. An older tattooed lady is sleeping under her house in the shade and of course we don’t want to disturb her.
One village further on we are lucky, because one of the tattoo ladies wants to have a little chat. She asks us to sit with her on a plastic tarpaulin next to a baby swing. While she pushes the little girl next to her slightly she has a lot of questions for us.
Whether I have children she wants to know. I want to know if she has children. This question leads to the fact that in the next 10 minutes half the village gathers around us, because the older lady has a very complicated family history. She once had a husband… until then our guide can translate. Then a small argument breaks out over how the family relationships really are and the translation fails because of the sheer complexity of her pedigree. She also wants to know more about my family history, because she doesn’t really want to believe that I am German – or as it says in Burmese: Germaninga. She’s more into Thailand. So I tell a Burmese lady in the back of the jungle that there actually is a family story about a former ancestor, that was a consul in Borneo and she is very interested.
It seems a little hard to our guide with the meanwhile 10 women who have gathered here and are babbling non stop, because he now wants to slowly make his way to the next village. Can’t blame the poor man. After all, the ladies have a lot to talk about.
We reach the next village after a short drive with our boat. There are 6 tattooed ladies living here, all of whom know exactly how to do business. Of course it doesn’t take long until 3 of the ladies hang on my heels and all of them want to sell me their self-woven scarves. The ladies are pretty tough negotiating and counting doesn’t quite work with them yet, by the way. Unfortunately I didn’t attend the course in advanced body language and need our guide to translate again and again.
Meanwhile Mirko has a lot of fun watching my pathetic negotiation attempts and is also not ready to step in as a rescuer in the emergency. Instead, he prefers to enjoy himself and take pictures of what’s happening. After a very, very long round of negotiations we finally agree, so for 8,000 Kyiat I buy a much too colourful scarf that looks more like a tablecloth. The smile on the lady’s face is priceless. So it was all worth it.
Then we move on through the village, past a bunch of kids playing caneball. A Ratan Ball is carried over a net exclusively with legs and feet and therefore all kinds of dislocations and definitely some condition are necessary. But Mirko refuses to play along, presumably he would have pulled his leg and broken his ankle. Since the next doctor is half a day’s journey away, I am quite happy about it.
Finally we visit the school of the village, a simple stone building without windows and doors, with a small blackboard on the wall. Here the children also sit in the afternoon and paint in their notebooks or follow the English letters on the blackboard with colorful chalk. I rally wish that I had brought something with me to spoil the sweet kids and I do feel slighly guilty that I haven´t. Fortunately we have Myint and his cookies! We are really blessed to have him.
After a very long drive back we watch the sunset in Mrauk U. After a short drive through the village we reach some temples and climb a lookout point on a hill. From here you have a good view over the temple landscape, which nestles between the dry grasslands and palm trees.
It just looks insanely great from up here. The whole thing is especially beautiful, because a mysterious fog raises and slowly makes its way through palm trees and temples. Unfortunately our guide spoils the mood, because he explains to us that unfortunately it is not a romantic evening mist, but smoke, which comes from the cook places and the small private garbage incineration plants in villages. Well, just think it’s romantic fog coming in on time for sunset. And after all it is a view that I will never forget for the rest of my life. What a beautiful place this is!