Fever and Fire: Nyaungshwe and Taunggyi, Myanmar

Nyaungshwe

After the trek through the Myanmar agro-belt, we made our way to Nyaungshwe, the main town on the north side of Inle Lake, to get some R&R. Nyaungshwe is a charming town that somehow manages to maintain a local vibe while catering to the Westerners who come to Inle. Though it has hundreds of long-tail boats for tourists to cruise the lake, it also has small, lazy dirt roads traversed by local bike riders. The people of Nyaungshwe are friendly and helpful: when tuk-tuk drivers tried to get our business and we’d say no, stating that we wanted to walk instead, they would then offer to give us walking directions; when a family accidentally burnt a hole through a layer of one of Michael’s shirts as they ironed it, they refused to take our money for the entire load of laundry. Adding to Nyaungshwe’s appeal is the abundance of tasty restaurants—so tasty that we had some of our best Myanmar food and customer service here. We really enjoyed the Inle Lake fish at Thanaka Garden, so much so that we went back a second time. We also ate at the unassuming Viewpoint Restaurant, where we unintentionally got ourselves into a fancy multi-course tasting menu presented in fabulous form, allowing us to sample many different traditional Shan flavors and dishes with unique modern twists (see photo above).

The outskirts of Nyaungshwe even boasts the modern Red Mountain Winery, to which we ventured with the two Irish girls we had met on our recent trek in Kalaw. What we thought would be a relaxing, easy 5.3 km / 3.3 mi bike ride to the winery turned into quite the ordeal, as we made several wrong turns (thanks, Maps.Me) through dirt backroads instead of biking on the main tarmac road. Dirt backroads are not really an issue, but they become one after a quick afternoon rainstorm, turning the dirt into thick, sticky, cakey mud that all but stopped our bike wheels from turning. With mud stuck in our wheel wells and inches of the same stuck to the bottom of our flip flops, we felt like we were in quicksand, pushing uphill while we sunk deeper into the ground. After a painful 30 minutes of sludging through the mud and carrying our bikes, all while using small wooden sticks as makeshift shovels, we finally made it to the winery—covered in mud, while everyone else was clean and dressed nicely. We washed up in the winery sinks, and finally enjoyed a much-deserved wine tasting of four wines each for less than $2 USD! We both normally like reds far more than white wines, but we were surprised to enjoy Red Mountain’s Sauvignon Blanc and even bought another glass of it. Watching sunset over lush green vineyards is not what we expected to do in Shan State, but there we were, sipping Myanmar wine with our new friends.

We had initially planned to stay in the easy flow of Nyaungshwe longer, perhaps enjoying massages or just relaxing on another boat ride. But then, as suddenly as the afternoon rainstorms, Michael fell ill, coming down with fever, chills, muscle aches, and other malaria-like or dengue fever-like symptoms over the course of twelve hours. Because we had both been bitten by quite a few mosquitos over the past week, and because Karen had actually gotten malaria before in 2012 and knew that it could be treated easily if caught early (see old blog here if interested), we wanted to get it checked out and tested, just in case. Nyaungshwe only had a small clinic that wasn’t that helpful, and their blood lab was basically the upstairs of someone’s house (indeed, our “waiting room” was the neighbor’s living room), so we decided to book it to a real city. So much for the R&R.

Taunggyi

We grabbed a taxi for the 50-minute ride from Nyaungshwe to Taunggyi to go to the hospital. Taunggyi, the capital of Shan State, boasts about half a million people and serves as a commercial and administrative center for the region. Though few tourists stay in Taunggyi because it does not have any traditional “sights,” it is known for its annual Fire Balloon Festival, to which we were already planning to go. If it sounds like fire and balloons shouldn’t go together, you’re right—they don’t. But more on that later.

We did not get to explore Taunggyi too far and wide, but what we saw were streets lined with clothing stores, Chinese jewelry storefronts of endless gold and jade, and industrial car and motorbike repair shops; its roads are a chaotic mess of motorbikes, bicycles, cars, stray dogs, Buddhist parades, and “songthaews” (pickup trucks with benches for passengers in the back, which we only know by its Thai name). We ultimately spent four days and nights here, and in many ways, it ended up feeling the most like home—not for its comforts or nostalgia, but because the life we led here was the most routine and real-life-like: going to the hospital, buying groceries, getting a haircut, attending a local festival, and celebrating a birthday.

Let’s start with the interesting experience that was the Myanmar hospital. After quickly checking into our new hotel, we went straight to Sein Hospital, which was recommended to us and which we later found out was the good private hospital in the area. Luckily, it happened to only be a 5-minute walk from our hotel. We walked into a crowded, dimly lit front room of locals waiting to be seen and many children running around, with another crowd waiting in front of a pharmacy to our right. Michael was about ready to walk out at first. But a woman grabbed us and brought us to the “triage room,” where we spoke to a doctor and told her our story; then a young woman with thick rimmed glasses and a bright green cardigan walked us to the back of the hospital, through the crowds, to another large waiting room. We sat down in a sea of locals and settled in, expecting to wait for hours since it was pretty crowded. However, we were one of the first ones called, waiting only twenty minutes.

The doctor spoke excellent English and understood all of the issues Michael described. He gave him a standard check-up, and expressed that, given the symptoms, he doubted it was malaria, both because of where we had traveled in the country, and because of its dormant period. But it could be dengue. He ordered a blood test for both just to be sure, along with a standard panel of other indicators, and sent us off with a handful of mostly over-the-counter prescriptions, including a pain and fever reducer, hydration salts, vitamins, and electrolytes. After seeing the doctor, Green Cardigan Woman continued to walk alongside us, bringing us to the blood lab counter. Initially, Michael was a bit hesitant about the blood draw, wanting to ensure that the needles and practices were clean, but when we approached the lab window, it was clear that the needle came right out of a new package. They drew blood and then told us to come back in four hours for the results. Green Cardigan Woman then led us back up front to the pharmacy, where we handed over the doctor’s prescriptions in a crowd of people the way you hand over your ticket number at the deli counter. While they were making Michael’s “sandwich,” we were ushered over to the payment counter; we paid the equivalent of about $49 USD in cash for the doctor’s visit, blood test, and medications (with plans to be reimbursed by our travel insurance later). A few minutes later, the pharmacy had the order ready, and with that, we were ready to go, all within an hour of our arrival.

The above all sounds orderly and easy, and it truly was, but we are sure that our personal usher (Green Cardigan Woman) made all the difference; the fact that we were the only foreigners there likely got us some additional attention and speed, which we did not expect, but for which we were grateful. It was fascinating to observe the practices of the Myanmar healthcare system, and though we recognize that the private system is likely quite different than most people there get to experience, the quality, service, and efficiency was much better than expected.

Back at our hotel, Michael rested for a few hours waiting for the test results, while Karen explored the city a bit, literally spending over an hour wandering the aisles of a modern big-box grocery store and stocking up for the week (we love looking at the products, prices, and behaviors at local grocery stores, as they tell so much about the people). When we went back to the hospital for the blood test results, it was confirmed that Michael did not, in fact, have dengue fever nor malaria, and all his other levels were also normal. He just had the flu and needed to rest.

So rest we did. We barely left our hotel room over the next few days. The hotel staff laughed each morning as we were consistently the last two people showing up for breakfast just before they stopped serving at 10am. Michael napped through the days while Karen caught up on yoga, organizing photos, and writing blogs (or tried). She even got a haircut at a makeshift salon just three minutes from our hotel. The local haircut experience was almost as interesting as the local hospital experience. Unlike the doctors, none of the three hairdressers at the salon spoke any English. After excessive hand gesturing and bringing up photos of hairstyles on her phone, Karen left with a not-horrible haircut that cost $3 USD—a solid win.

Other than that, the only other times we left the hotel was to attend the Fire Balloon Festival, which was the real reason we were in Taunggyi to begin with!

Fire Balloon Festival

The famous Taunggyi Fire Balloon Festival is part of the Tazaungdaing Light Festival, which celebrates the Buddhist full moon marking the end of the rainy season and the end of Buddhist Lent. Thousands of people come to Taunggyi from all over the country each year to participate and watch in awe as enormous handmade hot air balloons fill the sky every day for a week. The balloons are part of a competition, with prizes awarded to teams based on the balloons’ designs, beauty, and effectiveness rising into the air. Oh, and one minor detail—the balloons are basically lit on fire! Each year, these flaming balls of fire injure onlookers in the crowd, and apparently it is not uncommon for people to die! Fire engines stand expectantly on the sidelines, ready to mobilize when needed. Having just been to the hospital, we were not looking to go back…but we still had to go witness this craziness for ourselves (from a safe distance).

There are two kinds of balloons, what we call the “candle balloons” and the “firework balloons.” The candle balloons feature intricate Buddhist images made up of thousands of mini candles, that participants light and hang onto the paper balloon as it fills up with heat and gets ready to take off. Then, when all the candles are lit and hung (which means that the balloon is basically surrounded by fire), they let it go, releasing the massive balloon and its thousands of flickering flames into the night sky, the orange flames coming together to create the face of Buddha or a lotus flower. It is really quite an impressive and beautiful sight—the culmination of months of planning and design by the community teams. These candle balloons are the quieter, more peaceful of the two, as the flames are mostly predictable, and the process is more gradual. However, they are not completely without danger: on the second night, it was rainy and windy for a period, causing two balloons to completely catch on fire as strong winds sent the candles’ flames haywire. One didn’t even make it up into the air and the other made it up only a couple hundred feet before collapsing and falling back down to earth in a huge ball of fire, luckily away from the crowds!

The second, more erratic but more exciting hot air balloons, are the firework balloons. These massive vessels are also covered with detailed Buddhist images, but instead of attaching candles to them, homemade fireworks are attached to the bottom. Just as a balloon is filled with hot air and ready for lift off, the teams light a fuse for all the fireworks and release the balloon into the night sky. As the balloon floats off, it rains down fireworks onto the thousands of people below its path, all oohing-and-aaaahing as the beautiful and colorful display unfolds before them. When all goes right, the fireworks don’t start going off until the hot air balloon is well above the audience, so that its sparks and explosives do not pose a threat to the people below; then, it is truly a beautiful and hypnotic light show. But, when the timing is off on the lighting of the fuse or how long it takes for the balloon to rise—or any number of other unpredictable things that can happen, such as a change in the direction of the wind—the fireworks may start early and shoot directly into the audience below!

Sure enough, this is exactly what happened for the first firework balloon that we saw on our first night—it prematurely shot out colorful explosives directly into the crowd, like a flamethrower at easy shooting distance. No one seemed to mind, though, as everyone burst into cheers when the balloon took flight and the fireworks went off. Fortunately, it did not look like anyone got hurt, so we could only laugh as we thought about how illegal and unsanctioned this would in the litigious United States! (For an excellent detailed write-up of this unique festival and competition, as well as phenomenal photos of the balloons and fireworks, see blogger Dustin Main’s take on the event here.)

As we gained more experience assessing the balloons over our two nights at the festival—reading the direction of the wind like a golfer, eyeing the moment of fuse lighting, identifying where to take cover from raining fireworks if we needed to—we inched closer to their point of release down where the action was, and were able to really take in the atmosphere of this very special Myanmar celebration. Yes, the balloons were amazing, but it was everything else that took place during the 30-45 minutes in between each balloon’s release that was most interesting.

Tens of thousands of families and teenagers filled the fairgrounds where the festival took place, making it so lively and packed that you had to push aggressively through the crowds just to walk around. Multiple vibrant stages of live music and DJ dance parties existed next to carnival rides, street food vendors, skate parks, and even a human-powered Ferris Wheel. In the vast field where the balloons were released, not a patch of grass was left open as people laid out cut-up pieces of used rice sacks that functioned as picnic mats on the wet ground, giving it the feel of an outdoor music festival. Beer, whiskey, betel nuts, and stuffed animals flowed abundantly; kids ran around playing tag in between adults taking naps until the next act; teams bringing their hot air balloons onto the field as their turn neared blared music and waved flags representative of their community (such as the Pa’O flag or a Shan flag), chanting and dancing with pride. As the night got later and darker, the crowds and energy only grew, as the celebrations and fire balloon show continued till about 4am each night (the latest we lasted was till just before midnight on the second night).

At times, the entire festival felt like one big dance party, with the fire balloons overhead serving as the disco balls and lights. At other times, it felt like one shared prayer as the entire crowd fell quiet watching the lit candles float into the air, offering up thanks for the seasons passed and seasons to come. Either way, it was always collective and communal—and a special ten-thousand-person birthday party for Karen as she celebrated another revolution around the sun, with proxy birthday candles drifting above us, and laughter and music on the ground next to us.

In many ways, the Fire Balloon Festival aptly represented our diverse time spent in Shan State, from agricultural Aungban and Kalaw to everyday Taunggyi—colorful, authentic, and with a tinge of danger that ended in a sparkly display of culture and celebration.

Karen & Michael

Nyaungshwe and Taunggyi, Shan State, Myanmar, November 5-9, 2019