The day came hot and bright, and with it the promise of walkabout in a new town. Nyaungshwe is the largest small town adjoining the ecological preserve of Inle Lake. The lake and the town are located in the Shan Hills, the eastern portion of central Myanmar that make up the Shan State. The lake sits in a wide, flat valley, surrounded on all sides by green-clad mountains.

People often ask me what I do on my travels. My answer is that I walk around and look at things. Sometimes I find big things, other times I find small things. Each country or city has its important monuments: The Statue of Liberty in New York, Angkor Wat at Siam Reap, or Luang Prabang on the shores of the Mighty Mekong.  A traveler may see any one of these, and yet not know a thing about the land and people of a place. Walkabout allows one to experience day-to-day life; the small sights, smells, and tastes that make up the fabric of a country and its culture.

Here I risk the danger of letting my snobbish nature show, but I will plunge on nonetheless. I have listened to well-heeled travelers tell me of having been to Cambodia of Laos. They fly into Siam Reap, tour Angkor Wat, then fly away. Or they spend a few day in the UNESCO World Heritage Site of Luang Prabang, claiming that they have seen Laos. I do not deny the wonder of both of these amazing treasures. Yet I also know that there is so much more which defines a new land. One of the best ways to experience these small things is to set out on foot with no clear destination in mind. The Travel Gods rarely fail to reward such effort, even if the reward comes in surprising and mundane ways.

Our breakfast, including real coffee, was served by our smiling host. The breakfast room was on the second floor of the lodge, with views all around. The land spread out before us, flat and green in the morning sun. I could see small lanes leading out into the flat, green countryside; paths that led towards the marshy lake. Clouds floated over the tops of the mountains, while a hot sun beat down on the rice paddies. It was more than a traveler could ask for, more than I could resist, and we were not long in setting out.

We crossed over the canal in front of our guesthouse compound and headed away from the edge of town. The gravel way led due south, following the path of the sluggish canal. There was water everywhere, on either side of the path, in the canal, or glistening below the emerald green of the fields of rice. We had no fixed destination, no demand on our time, and nowhere to be.

Lying in the road, My One found the carcass of the biggest grasshopper I have ever seen. The thing was a full four inches long, more than an inch thick, and iridescent green. Small fish broke the surface of the canal, hunting insects that were not so gargantuan. All manner of birds flitted through the branches of the scrub bushes on the side of the path. It was glorious walking on a sultry morning.

We came to a meeting of ways and chose the one that looked the most traveled. There was a line of buildings in the distance, including the golden gleam of a few small pagodas. The rice paddies were on our right hand, and the beginnings of the lake marsh on our left. The raised pathway led past teak houses on stilts. Farm folk were going about their chores. We greeted them with smiles and our best Ming-ga-la-Bah, which is always answered with a beaming Burmese smile.

At the far end of the lane, defining the very large square we seemed to be circumnavigating, we bumbled into a farmer’s compound. He steered us away, but gently and with a smile. Finding a path that led north along the main canal, we strolled past a small, brightly painted temple. Lotus blossoms grew in the ditch alongside the path, anchored by long roots to the mud beneath. There is a Buddhist saying: No mud, no lotus.

We were heading back towards the town now, and our pathway became a proper road. We could hear the unmuffled roar of long-tail boats plying the canal, caught glimpses of them between the buildings. The buildings seemed to be mostly warehouse structures. There were piles and piles of wooden crates stacked up in front of each of these buildings. We soon learned what the crates were for.

There were mounds of tomatoes, mountains of tomatoes, long tables of tomatoes. Workers stood at the tables, sorting tomatoes into crates. The combination of rich, flat bottom land, ample water, and fierce sun make this lake valley a prime tomato producing region. The tomatoes all seem to be of the Roma variety; smallish, oblong, and bright red.

We wandered closer to town, close enough to attract the attention of the Boat Shills. Inle Lake is the big attraction here, and no visit is complete without chartering a long-tail boat to tour the lake itself. It is not yet the high-season, so there are not enough tourists to go around. Hence the Boat Shills. These guys run around on scooters, looking for tourists to pitch. We received a fair few of their pitches, which we politely declined. Today was for walking. We had set aside the morrow for a boat excursion.

The road became busier. There were tractors hauling loads of tomatoes, taxis hoping for a fare, and the ubiquitous stream of scooters. Where the main canal crossed under the main road, we saw the idle fleet of long-tail boats moored at many rickety docks. Turning right again, we began strolling into the town proper, the last leg of a very large box.

The afternoon was bringing the clouds down from the surrounding mountains, and with it the threat of rain. By early November, the rainy season is ending, but it is not completely spent. It was time for cup of chai, preferably at a joint that had a roof.

We spent a good bit of the afternoon hanging out in the tea-shop and watching the world go by. The busy little main street gave us all the entertainment we needed. When the threat of rain eased, we headed back to the guesthouse for a late-afternoon smoke and some well-earned relaxation on the veranda of our cute little bungalow. 

The night fell hard and black in a town where streetlights are few and far between. Armed with our trusty LED torch, we headed out to find some dinner. We were not disappointed. A typical Myanmar curry revolves around the rice. Accompanying the rice are a small dish of curry and a variety of savory side dishes. There are pickled things, spicy things, vegetable things, and dishes I cannot readily identify. Some are wonderful, some are strange, and the side dishes seem to change each day and at each curry joint. The assortment you see in the photo above was only a part of the meal. Before I could tuck in, more dishes arrived.

I had to rise from the table in order to capture everything in one photo. Besides the dishes mentioned above, there was a lovely soup and a big plate of green vege. This extravagant feast will usually cost about 3,000 kyat, or two dollars US.

Our meal complete, we wandered back to our bungalow. Once more enjoying our perfect veranda, we were serenaded by the chorus of night critters. Tree frogs tried to out-sing the crickets, while the Hoo-How birds cried out from the dark trees above us. Two giggling girls made their nightly rounds, offering to spray our veranda with the biggest can of bug repellent I have ever seen. We declined, preferring to shoo the mosquitoes rather than suffer the effects of a toxic cloud.

It had been a quiet day, a small day, a day blessed by a remarkable walkabout. There was nothing wondrous to report, unless it was the small wonder of discovering small things. Tomorrow we would do the big things: A boat tour of Inle Lake. For tonight, we were content to sit and talk and laugh. the big things could get along without us.

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