We took another looooong bus, this time in the day, over to Inle Lake. It was another gut wrenching ride over the highlands, with crazy music videos playing loudly from the TV up front. Each music video is bound to contain the following ingredients: beautiful woman with horrible gangster boyfriend being sung to by equally violent protagonist who is clearly infatuated with beautiful woman, sudden shootings or stabbings, blood gushing from someone’s mouth, woman ending up with protagonist singer after being beaten up and/or chained up at some point during the escapade. My feminist soul was dying.
For our day at Inle lake, we rented bikes and went off on an adventure. After bumping along on the main road towards the lake, we decided to cut through the rice paddies and sugar cane fields and forest, getting stuck in deep mud and calling “mingalaba!”(hello) to the farm labourers crouched in the fields or ground under trees eating lunch. We took the offer of a boat ride across the lake to the other side after some hard haggling by Hugo. We bundled out bikes into the long thin wooden boat and we were off! Through wetlands and floating houses and tomato farms before jetting out onto the lake. We got sprayed with water from both sides of the boat and there was a big tail trailing behind us like a water fountain from the motor.
That evening, to recover from the exertions, we had Myanmar beers and topped off the evening with some Burmese whisky, which was surprisingly smooth. Apparently the vineyard in the valley makes quite good wines, but we didn’t get the time to try it – the next day we were off again on another sickening bus ride, back to Yangon and straight to the airport, heading for Vietnam.