From the Big Smoke to the Open Road

We arrive at the base of Mandalay Hill in a car designed to carry produce, not people. Fortunately our driver has laid blankets on the plywood to cushion our bums when he drives over potholes. As we climb out of the car, he tells us he’ll wait 2 hours - plenty of time to climb 1729 steps to the top of the temple and back down. We’ve been promised a panoramic view from the top.

I’m itching to watch the sun set over the city; there’s something captivating about the colours of the sky and the notion of the day coming to a close that I love.

At the first landing, we’re instructed to leave our shoes among hundreds of other pairs. I’m hesitant (Southeast Asia isn’t somewhere you choose to leave your possessions unmonitored!) but I oblige then charge ahead, frequently checking that my crew is keeping up. There are food and souvenir stalls along the way. My friends keep stopping to browse, which annoys me but I have to remember that this is their adventure, too.

At the next landing, 3 young monks (no more than 25) in orange robes approach us. They ask if we speak English and light up when we say yes. The first one introduces himself and the other 2 enthusiastically, and explains that they would like to practise their English with us, so we end up walking all the way up with them. The air is hot so we’re fanning ourselves, but as the sun drops lower and lower, it’s cool enough to not sweat.

We stroll under archways with Burmese script painted on them, wander past golden statues, and take a moment at each of the altars to appreciate the privilege to be in such an incredible, humbling place. We talk about our travels over the past month, our families, our lives back home; about their lives at the temple, their families, their training.

It’s so nice getting to know them that I feel bad for initially being suspicious of their motives. Though as a tourist (target for being conned) a little scepticism can save you a world of grief.

We reach the top in time for sunset. It’s beautiful; deep green and orange dominate the horizon. With our new friends we look out to the horizon that’s like none I’ve seen before, telling jokes and talking about our aspirations.

By the time we get back down (an hour late!) it’s dark. I watch each of my friends - quiet, off in their own worlds, reflecting on the experience none of us could have planned. Scanning through my photos of the sunset, I know that when I think back to this evening, it’s not the sunset I’ll be telling stories of.