We landed in Bagan with a few hours until sunset. We opted to not to heed the warnings we'd read and jumped in the first mode of transport we saw: a horse and buggy. The animal lover in me cringed - I once reported a malnourished horse pulling a buggy in Central Park, after all - but our driver seemed to have a real affection for his horse, Rosie. As we skittered over potholes en route to the plain of temples, my anticipation grew immensely. Would there really be 4,000 temples? Would it really be as grand as I hoped?
As we'd been warned, the ride was indeed bumpy... but I simply didn't care. Seated in the rear of the buggy, Nick had a bit of a different perspective. I learned later that he was nearly bucked off the back of the carriage on numerous occasions... but up front, the ride was stunning. We turned off the two-lane, asphalt highway onto a winding dirt road, and all around us we began to spot beautiful thousand-year-old temples rising from the brush. It was more grand than any photo I'd seen, and more than my mind could fathom.
The first temple we visited is a very popular one with the tourist groups, even the thick crowds didn't bother me. Our driver parked in a neighboring field, and we entered the ancient halls of the temple. With enormous grins on our faces, we crawled to the top and took our place on the ledge to watch the sunset. The hazy fields accentuated the vibrant colors of the setting sun, which changed by the minute. Our horse and buggy sat perfectly positioned for a few shots, and I enjoyed watching as our driver fed our horse heaps of fresh grass while they waited. The scenery was incredible, and the photos amazing. After that, we were hooked.
It was the first of three Bagan sunsets (not to mention another four sunrises... but that's for another post). Each time we sought out temples with fewer and fewer visitors... and had the good sense to find a less bumpy mode of transport: an electric motobike. Every night, as the sun slipped below the horizon, the sound of my shutter inevitably hushed and a beautiful silence fell over the plain. Eventually we would tear ourselves away from the vista, knowing that the mosquitoes would find us before long. Twice we stayed until it was quite dark, and wondered how we would find our way back down pitch black corridors. Fortunately for us, the stairwells leading out had been illuminated by local villagers with small individual candles. At the bottom, beaming smiles from young children evoked a small tip for the courtesy. All that was expected was a mere 25 cents, and we were happy to pay it... especially if it meant I didn't bust my head - or lense - tumbling down the steep stone stairs.
