The great railway bazaar - Hsipaw to Mandalay

The train from Hsipaw to Mandalay shook like a tambourine in a 60s revival band. Its passengers, unwilling participants in a real life game of Pong, slid from side to side on the wooden benches, clutching their possesions to keep them from going airborne. Very slowly the train made its way through upper Myanmar down a narrow corridor cut from the surrounding vegetation, while flowered branches slapped the side of the car and infused it with a heavy fragrance.

For the first two hours of the trip, apart from an occasional flicker of rural landscape, these green drapes were all the windows had to offer. From time to time, we'd stop in a small town along the way. As soon as the train halted, women carrying fruit and dried goods on their heads would circle it, hoping for a quick sell. Each time we stopped, it took the machinists longer to get the thing going again. I was starting to think we'd never arrive at our destination.

Of the many foreigners who traveled this railway line, the American Paul Theroux probably contributed the most to its legendary status. For his travelogue The great railway bazaar, Theroux made the journey from Maymyo to Naung-Peng and back, crossing the Gokteik gorge along the way. The viaduct across the gorge, completed by the Pennsylvania Steel Company in 1901, is the main reason many travelers prefer the train over the more comfortable (and privately owned) bus service to and from Mandalay. 320 feet high and 2250 feet long, it still is one of the largest traditional steel trestles in the world.

Here's Theroux crossing the viaduct:
“The train wheels banged on the steel spans and the plunging water roared the birds out of their nests a thousand feet down. The long delay in the cold had depressed me, and the journey had been unremarkable, but this lifted my spirits, crossing the bridge in the rain, from one steep hill to another, over a jungly deepness, bursting with a river to which the monsoon had given a hectoring voice, and the engine whistling again and again, the echo carrying down the gorge to China.”

Louder and sadder

Hannelore and I traveled during the dry season, so we weren't rewarded with bursting rivers, but the crossing - about four hours into the journey - proved to be an unforgettable sight, worth every bounce and jostle along the way. After we passed the gorge, the hedges besides the tracks opened up more regularly and we could see villages strewn across a countryside that might have been conceived by a gang of gallivanting French impressionist painters.



Bare-shouldered women froze in their crouching poses as we waggled along, faraway temples drew the last sunlight of the day into their bell-shaped stupa's, the sounds of the train became louder and sadder. And then … And then …

If I can give one tip to other travelers who want to make this journey: book a room in Mandalay before you leave. We hadn't, and when the train finally arrived, three to four hours behind schedule, it proved almost impossible to find a room in the city. Eventually we had to settle for a hotel above our budget, with air-conditioning and a private bathroom. What are we, tourists?