|
Part 2: The light, in fact, throughout the river valley
was the most beautiful I’ve ever seen, a simmering golden hue.
By Roy Attaway — SPRING 2004
On that previous evening, there had been ample time
to explore the fabled temples of Pagan—which, of course, was why
we were here. The town rose to prominence circa 1040 and for two centuries
was the site of intense religious fervor and temple building. Buddhists
believe you can be a royal sinner all your life and still ooze your way
into heaven by building a temple or stupa (the former are hollow; the
latter, solid). Pagan, then, is a sprawling monument to collective guilt.
At one time more than 3,000 of these structures stood
here. The earthquake of 1975 destroyed about 1,000, but the remaining
ones are still among the most extraordinary sights in the world. At dusk
we climbed the steep ramparts of the Shwesandaw Pagoda, built wedding-cake
style with successive receding terraces and crowned by a graceful, round
stupa. From there we saw the deep golden sunset that has attracted travelers
for centuries. The light, in fact, throughout the river valley was the
most beautiful I’ve ever seen, a simmering golden hue.
Back onboard, we relaxed on deck with cool drinks and
began to understand the extent of the opulence into which we had been
thrust. Take our cabin, for example: There were two single berths pushed
together to form a double bed, a TV, a sofa, a chair, a chest of drawers,
and two large hanging closets. The head was on one side—a huge bathroom
with shower stall and an expansive sink—and a counter, with a separate
makeup counter, on the other.
The first deck housed the dining room, a piano bar,
a boutique, and a common room with nightly entertainment. Topside was
the pool deck with a bar at one end and a large canopied sitting area
with wicker chairs and fat cushions.
As evening closed in, Capt. Ba Nyan and his crew simply
anchored in midstream. No one in his or her right mind would try to bring
a boat down with the current at night. When the Mandalay did turn downstream,
a small pilot boat preceded her, its crew sounding for shifting bars and
marking the new channel.
The boat was built to avoid snags and sirens in her
service on the Rhine, but her shallow draft and eccentric propulsion system
(four Deutz engines connected to Voith Schneider propellers) are perfect
for the Irrawaddy. The propellers are mounted vertically and look more
like helicopter blades. Nothing protrudes. With a bow thruster, she can
turn on a dime.
For a long time on that first day, we were in a broad,
flat valley, bereft of any elevation. Later we saw low, brown hills rising
to the northwest. Along the eastern bank men wearing harnesses pulled
canoes behind them. Other canoes slipped from bank to bank. Small towns
on the higher bluffs were marked by the golden spires of the temples and
trees that embrace the compounds.
>> Next page >> Part
3: Every village had its pagoda, the way English villages sprout church
steeples. Page
1,
2, 3
|
