I can't believe it's been a year since we were in Myanmar! My photos STILL aren't fully edited, and most nights I only find enough time to do a few chores and eat some dinner... so I don't expect to finish them all anytime soon! That said, it's been a delight to look back on all these amazing memories on the anniversary of our trip. Our final stop, Inle Lake, was one of the most unique places that I've ever visited, and I feel so lucky to have captured a small sliver of it to remember.
After departing Bagan, we arrived at a tiny airport in the lake district by mid-morning... and realized we'd already made one giant mistake. Knowing that there would be an ATM at our arrival point, we'd neglected to stop for cash at a machine that morning. How wrong we were. After finding ourselves 30,000 kyat (or $25) short of the taxi fare, we were stranded. Thankfully, my father's genes came to the rescue, and I talked a lovely Germany couple into letting us tag along to their hotel. From there, we attempted to call our bank to figure out what was wrong, but the 10 hour time difference was working against us! I kept calling while Nick ventured into town. He roamed around the town, past stalls filled with fresh vegetables from the lake and vendors hawking fried pastries on rutted dirt roads. After trying five different ATMs, he finally found success at MAB Bank - our preferred banking partner! With a few thousand kyat burning a hole in his pocket, Nick bought a small bouquet of flowers for me, along with some for the German couple. Things were beginning to turn around! We had some beers sent to the room of our new German friends, and hopped in a tuktuk to head to our hotel.
Like with other trips, we saved the best hotel for last. After roughing it in some grubbier hostels, the Inle Resort was a revelation. Like the villages that dot the lake, the rooms of the hotel sat on stilts a few feet above the water's surface - it was the definition of serene. Having only briefly explored the main town in a mad hunt for cash, we decided to make a less frantic exploration the following morning. Riding in car or tuktuk along the bumpy road was one option to get back, but we opted for the preferred local transportation: a 30-foot dugout canoe powered by an outboard motor. After a chilly and damp ride back to town, we got our bearings by diving into the main market. It was a cacophony of sights and smells, with artisans selling their handmade wares, florists presiding over huge bouquets of flowers, and farmers tending to their assortment of produce - giant trays of hot chilies were especially prevalent. This was augmented by the wafting scent of strange and delicious foods: fried dough, grilled skewers of meat, hot bowls of noodles. The sensory overload made it easy to lose one's bearing; you had to remain light on your feet to dodge playful children, and avoid stepping on the tail of one of the innumerable dogs that may have wandered into your path.
