The laughter of children cascades across the rice paddy fields and echoes off a wreathing ring of limestone cliffs, as if a pint-sized army was on the move. Their little heads eventually appear from among the tall rice reeds — near some grazing water buffalo who are completely unfazed by their presence — then run to the water’s edge, stop suddenly and stare, saucer-eyed, at our ship. I’m aboard Orient-Express’ new river cruiser Orcaella, plying the remote and rarely visited waters of the Chindwin River in northwest Myanmar, and we’ve caught a snag.
It’s September and the rainy season is nearly over, but tropical deluges in the mountains to the north have turned the Chindwin to a rushing, mustard-hued torrent dotted with debris. One sizable tree trunk has become entangled in our propeller, and the captain has no option but to tie up to a tree just beyond a tiny cluster of thatched homes perched beside the river, while the crew leap into the water and dislodge it.
Of all the encounters on our 12 day, 1,600-kilometre river adventure, this epitomises the experience best; we’re able to stop beside a serene riverside village whose inhabitants have quite likely never seen Westerners up close, which is what we all came here for. But it’s also the third delay of the day, on a long journey fraught with logistical and cultural calamities that truly illustrate the difficulties of introducing to new and unexplored locales the levels of luxury today’s jetset travellers demand.
The village children and I enjoy a period of gazing at one another across a muddy river bank. Some board a tiny canoe for a closer look as their fathers work with the crew to dislodge a log that’s more than two metres long. With frantic waving and laughter that echoes across the darkening landscape, the debris is unblocked and we’re on our way again, fighting against the Chindwin’s strong current, bound for the town of Homalin further north.
Orient-Express is no stranger to the rivers of Myanmar. The hotel and train company was among the first to operate in former Burma, identifying the thirst for new and remote destinations among its well-heeled clientele, and responding with the now iconic Road to Mandalay, a beautiful German river cruiser that calls the Irrawaddy River home. Luxurious and intimate, the Road to Mandalay has been the first foray into Myanmar for many travellers, who, despite political instability and a nearly complete lack of infrastructure, wanted to walk among the silk looms of Mandalay or the ancient temples of Bagan and still return for cocktails on deck at sunset.
Many of the 30 or so passengers boarding the Orcaella in Mandalay five days earlier had already travelled on the Road to Mandalay and knew the Orient-Express brand well. There were French, Americans and Germans, as well as a Belgian couple and a bevy of Australians travelling as a family. Resembling a refrigerator floating on its back, what Orcaella — a short, custom-designed river cruiser with a shallow draft — lacks in aesthetics, it makes up for in intimacy, with only 25 cabins spread across three decks.
As the sun dips low behind the peaks of the Alaungdaw Kathapa National Park, home to Myanmar’s largest population of Indo-Chinese tigers, captain Aung Nyein, a 42-year veteran of the river, slows Orcaella to a crawl and navigates the treacherous shifting sandbanks at the confluence of the Irrawaddy and the Chindwin. With the final rays of twilight we pass into the swollen river, with cocktails served on the upper sundeck and dinner prepared in the elegant dining room.
Orcaella is more modern than her sister ship, with cabins that feature full height French doors allowing the warmth of the evening into the air-conditioned confines of the ship. The dining room is dressed in warm, regal tones, with Asian art adorning the walls and comfortable chairs surrounding the dining tables. On the upper level there is an elegant cocktail lounge and library, as well as an outdoor plunge pool lined by sun loungers to the front, and another open-air lounge and cocktail bar at the rear of the ship. However, as comfortable as the confines are, there is a sense that the ship and her crew were rushed into service, with talk of stuck drawers and loose electrical fittings, lovely but poorly trained staff, missed excursions in Mandalay and lackluster menus in the restaurant.
INTO THE WILD
Thanboddhay Pagoda, which is crowded for a full moon celebration, is our first real chance to delve into the local culture and gaggles of curious children follow us around the orange and cream-coloured shrine and through hallowed halls pockmarked with more than 500,000 depictions of Buddha. There are more in the nearby fields of Bodhi Tataung, where more than 6,000 serene sculptures donated by the faithful, look towards a mesmerising 424-foot tall gilded Buddha on a nearby hilltop.
There’s more cross-cultural curiosity when we arrive with the dawn at the tiny village of Mokehtaw, walking on dykes between flooded paddy fields to the community hall in time to witness five young boys undertake their shinbyu, or novitiation ceremony. It’s a real community affair and everyone has turned out to hear the abbot speak and to watch as the boys’ heads are shaved and they’re wrapped in brilliant crimson robes.
Many boys in Myanmar spend a period as novices — in the country it can be a year, in the city as short as a week — and it’s a very proud occasion for families and for the whole village. The young boys, no older than 10, scratch their now-bald heads and pluck at their new robes, loving all the attention. They follow us back across the paddy fields to our ‘fast boat’, a dragonfly of a ferry that transfers guests from the Orcaella, which must continue plodding against the current to keep to schedule. Even at our glacial pace, the weather changes as we inch north, the warmth of the plains giving way to the mists of the mountains.
The day after our log jams, we’re touring the lively markets of Kalewa, a trading gateway to India. It’s been raining through the night, a thick layer of mist settling over the river like whipped cream. The mud at the markets is ankle deep, but the colour and buzz of activity make up for the weather. The Burmese are among the most welcoming people in the world — all along the river we have been greeted by singing, waving children; by shy, beaming fisherman; and even here, in this lonely outpost near the Indian border, we’re greeted with betel nut-stained smiles and offerings of fruit and thick, hand-rolled cheroots (a type of hand-rolled cigar).
On another morning we walk down water buffalo tracks to the village of Maukkadaw. This is where the towering teak trees that are felled in Myanmar’s thick jungle arrive at the river to be transported downstream. We pass a military patrol searching for poachers and massive piles of logs on our way to a local school where children in immaculately white uniforms, thick strokes of thanaka clay decorating their faces, crowd around us and pose for photos, screeching with laughter when they see themselves on the LCD screen.
In Sitthaung, a tiny village of just 25 homes, we brave pelting rain and walk to school with packs of laughing children, down paddy dykes, past stilted thatch homes and around ambivalent water buffalo. The Orcaella conducts charity drives along the river and on this cruise we have the humbling opportunity to introduce the first electric light bulbs to the tiny settlement. Beautiful children with dark, inquisitive eyes line the walls of the single-room school as local militia leaders accept the solar panel donation, holding the light bulbs and posing with serious expressions.
Finally in Homalin, the northernmost point of our itinerary, we watch Naga tribes people in traditional headwear sing and sway to a timeless dance while we sip homemade rice wine from bamboo cups, with more inquisitive children, dressed in bright red, black and yellow beads, feathers in their hair, at our feet. The singing has a beautiful, rhythmic quality and soon guests are up, joining the dancers. It’s a truly magnificent experience.
The itinerary is long, with eight afternoons of cruising north and three south, but features plenty of activities; in the market town of Mawleik we ride tuktuks into the countryside, to a colonial-era mansion once owned by the Bombay Burmah Trading Corporation, and are greeted with glasses of champagne while the ship’s chef prepares and serves barbecued prawns and betel nut salad. The next day we ride elephants at a working elephant camp and watch as they bathe in a nearby river.
There is a minor insurrection on the second-to-last day when it’s announced that, due to time constraints, we’ll only be spending three hours in Bagan, a highlight of Myanmar. The ship has struggled to keep up with the current; the logistics of boarding the fast ferry and the visits to the many villages, monasteries and markets en route has bitten into our time at the ancient temple plains and the ship’s little lobby is packed with angry passengers. Manager Win Min quickly calms fears, tweaks the itinerary and a mutiny is avoided.
We spend a glorious last day exploring the ancient temples of Bagan, from regal Thatbyinnyu and Dhammayangyi to the gold-dipped Shwezigon Pagoda. We also clamber inside a few of the crumbling, terracotta-hued stupas and visit lacquer workshops before returning to the ship for sunset cocktails.
Roads will be built, guidebooks will be written, Orcaella’s drawers and bathroom fittings will be fixed and her itineraries will be tweaked to give passengers more time exploring and a little less cruising. But, sometimes a little inconvenience is a small price to pay for the unique opportunity to play explorer in one of Asia’s most remote and emerging landscapes.
THE GOLDEN BOOK
Orient-Express’ Orcaella cruises the Chindwin river in July 2014 from GBP 4,500 (US $6,900)per person, including all meals, twin share accommodation and domestic transfers.
www.orient-express.com
