Kalaw to Inle Lake trek

Roaming in the park in Kalaw`s town centre, just as the cows were, Matt and I were deciding on what we needed to take with us to the trek from Kalaw to Inle Lake. It would leave just after 8:30am the following day; a 2 day trek in a group of 6 people with a tour guide, staying over-night in a local village of one of Shan State`s tribes. "We`ll need snacks.", we both agreed. "I might need a poncho in case it rains.", Matt added. Just around the corner of 'Sam`s House' where we arranged our trek, was Poe Bakery. One of our realisations at the counter was that quite often any food you buy for later never gets eaten. Back in Bagan, we came across a bag of biscuits we had bought in Dawei all broken and ate some of the crumbs to then realise we weren't even hungry. It reminded me of the time we were on our Euro-trip. We found 2 soup tins ten days after we had bought them and ate them just so they wouldn`t go to waste. The other realisation we had while we looked for a poncho in the town`s main market, was that if it was to rain in Myanmar, well then, just let yourself get wet. The heat will dry you off and you won`t go through the hassle of feeling hot in a raincoat either. And you could always find shelter too. Suffice to say, we didn't buy any snacks or a poncho. 

The morning of the trek was cast with a chaotic air. The lady who organised the treks on behalf of her Uncle Sam, the man who had created the business, toddled worryingly trying to organise the trekking groups. There were travellers everywhere, some sat at tables eating pancakes for breakfast, others sat on chairs chatting casually but most stood in the way of anything getting done. There were even a dozen travellers who had just turned up hoping to tag along. Matt and I were baffled. The day before, not only had we not seen many other travellers, but when we arranged our 2 day trek, the list was barely filled in. Yet, we were the last group to be called. The `efficient` bone in me was slightly sore but I soon realised it hardly mattered. Not everyone is organised, prompt, quick, even if in a foreign country. 

  

 

 

Our trek guide, Chua, was from the tribe Pao-O. He was short, tanned and 27 years old. With a friendly personality, we could all tell he was looking forward to making new friends and to practicing his English. He was training up another guide. "Please, speak English with her for practice." he told us. She smiled largely. "I remember your name. Sofia.", she said to me while we walked past crops of ginger. I was surprised and thanked her. "Sofia famous singer. Every body love him. Her. Sofia.", she explained wiggling her arms as if dancing. "Easy remember. You Sofia." I sadly didn't remember hers. It occurred to me that I didn't remember the names of any of the Burmese people we had met on our travels. If you meet fellow locals, get them to write their name down for you. Not only will you remember it but you'll use it when speaking to them. 

 

 

We each took turns chatting to the guides and to each other. We were a diverse group: French, Chilean, Portuguese, English and Flemish. We mostly spoke about where we had been on our travels and what we had done. We hardly spoke about our jobs, our education or our daily routines. Although, knowing that we were all from different countries, we found ourselves giving tips of things to see and do in our native country. "Have you travelled?" I asked Chua. "No, no.", he seemed surprised I asked. "I grew up in tribe not far. In Kalaw I learn to be guide. Sometimes I take one hour bus to other town.". "If you could travel, where would you go?", I was intrigued. "Eiffel Tower. I want to be at the top!". It was clear he had been talking to Simon, the French guy. Later, when Matt asked, "If you could go anywhere in the world, where would you go?", he replied "Stamford Bridge! I support Chelsea.". It was clear they had been talking about football. Even so, I admired that he had several dreams of where he would want to go, even if they were influenced by the conversation he was having and even if it was likely he'd never go. 

 

 

Chua spoke about love. He was curious whether Matt and I were married and then why not and why the Chilean guy hadn't brought his girlfriend with him on his travels. He then told us about his own story. "I had girlfriend. But she with other man now.", he told us all individually on our trek through different plantations. In the evening, after dinner at the house we were staying in, which was owned by a 60 year old man, Chua explained how love worked for his tribe. "I choose girl I like. I see family after dinner. I speak to family but not girl. They tell me to see girl after. I see girl and say I like you. She say yes. Family say yes.", he paused. "I choose girl." he confirmed. "Can girl choose you?" I asked. He looked confused. "I choose girl." he repeated. We all waited in silence. Chua with a saddened expression, the rest of us reflective. "Girl can only be from Pao-O, my tribe. If I choose girl from not my tribe, I leave. Never come back. Never see my family again.", he explained. I couldn't help but think it's not much of a choice after all. Yet he knew that. I attempted to comfort him with the story of my grandparents who married without knowing each other and have been together ever since. We're all looking for love, for choice, no matter who we are or where we're from. We want connection. Sometimes that can still be found in situations with not much choice, like my grandparents, or like the owners of the house we were staying in. But for Chua, the new government meant change was coming. But would it come quick enough?