Sunrises and Sunburnt Clay in Bagan

Layers of mist and peepal trees float above the arid landscape. The earth exhales its last cooling breath of the day as the morning sun burns through heavy curtains of fog on the horizon. Balloons take to the air in a watercolor sky of orange and pink. The rapid clicks of camera shutters and revving motorbike engines accompany the sun on its silent assent into the day. Gold leafed pagoda domes melt the night’s chill from their pointed hats, excited birds dance in silhouetted trees and monk chants echo through a crackling radio in the gate keeper’s quarters. 

The morning routines of Myanmar’s sacred city, as seen from the temple tops.

The afternoons roll by on the back on an e-bike. Red dirt and red brick pagodas, their edges worn smooth by time like the soft contours of plowed fields and parched stalks of corn. Puppies and babies cling to skinny mothers with floppy tits full of milk while monks beg for food with empty bowls and robes full of prayers.

Ananda Pagoda

Lunch on the Ayeyarwady (Irrawaddy) River, the most important river in Burma and navigable for about 1000 miles.

This is Iza. She guided us around Shwe Gu Gyi Pagoda. She spends most of her time here, helping her Uncle sell his sand paintings and providing little nuggets of historical information about everything you're seeing around you.

Iza's uncle, Tin Lin Aung runs his traditional sand painting workshop on the patio of the Shew Gu Gyi Pagoda. We spent some time chatting with him and watching his sister paint the final black outlines in long, fluid strokes.

We didn't have enough cash left but promised we come back and buy some of his work. When we returned the next day he was surprised. Most people say they will, but never come back. He told us the stories behind each of the paintings and insisted that we come to his home for dinner to thank us for supporting his art. We said we would be honored and the date was set for the following evening. 

Ananda's golden crown in the background

tourists flock for the sunset

The color of Bagan is sunburnt clay. It is the color of the old farmer’s sinewy arms; the pagoda bricks; a monk’s robe coated in orange dust from the road; mixed with gold at the top of Ananda Temple; on the walls of houses both rich and poor; in the glazed pots that domesticate jungle plants; on the sensual lips of girls who ride side saddle on mopeds. The color is born in those eclipsed moments when the sun sits on the horizon—a color that has become synonymous with the place itself.

My memories of Myanmar are coated in a sepia glaze. Images of sun-drenched pagodas etched in the mist will be second to the kind faces of the people—especially the children—with their big brown eyes and white squares on their full cheeks. I will remember the smiles and our friend, Iza. The heartfelt hospitality of her uncle, Tin Lin Aung and his family. I can still taste the food prepared for us and see the contented smile on his wife's face. The cold breeze of dawn stinging our faces as we whizzed through the black morning racing the sun on an electric bike. I will remember that first sunset when we sat all alone on a nameless pagoda. And that feeling you get when you realize how blessed you are to earn the privilege of seeing something like this.

Sunset behind Ananda, Day One

Secret sunset spot, Day One

Dhammayangyi Temple

5am waiting for the sunrise, Day Two

Hot air balloon launch just before sunrise, Day 2

Sunrise companions Day 2

This rare old Burmese bill is signed by Doug's grandfather. Collectors sells old Burmese bills in front of the temples and after days of searching a young woman proudly told us that she had found one.

Sunset, Day Two

Sunrise Day 3

We met this kid on the morning of the first sunrise. He showed us his favorite sunrise temple. We were riding around on our last morning, sky already light, trying to find a lookout point and our kid shows up again to save the day.

 Sulamani Temple. One of our favorites. Incredible wall paintings inside, puppies and a puppeteer. 

Book salesmen. We bought a bootleg copy of George Orwell's Burmese Days

Our last sunset in Bagan, atop our favorite temple with Iza

And for the first time in my life I was inspired to write a TripAdvisor review for a tiny little outdoor restaurant named Bibo. All the Burmese food we had was good, but Bibo was above and beyond. Chicken pumpkin curry, Burmese pork curry, fish cooked to perfection, local tea leaf salad, silky avocado salad... We ate there three times in two days and were devastated that it took us a day to find the place. I would go back to Myanmar just for Bibo.