Newsfrom The Hindu (India)

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This article is typing by the News & Information Dept. of Federation of Trade Unions, Burma (West Burma).
 
The Hindu, Sunday, October 29, 1995.
Experience By Christopher Boisvieux
"Cruising down the Irrawaddy"
 
"Beyond Pagan, you will not find a ship to go down the Irrawaddy, you must continue your trip by bus or car." The official at M.T.T., the official Burmese tourist agency, does not lack poise or humour. If one is to believe him, the flotilla of boats on th
 
But voyage on this mythical river, 1600km. in length, is well worth the effort. A vital artery, the Irrawaddy traverses the historic heart of Myanmar (Burma's new name) and remains the least known of the world's big navigable routes.
 
The first sound of the siren in Mandalay. The former capital of Burma's kings turns it back to the river in order to wind itself around the royal palace which was formerly considered the centre of the world. From its glorious past, the city preserves innu
 
In this indescribable confusion, the Inland Water Transport Corporation ship throws anchor at dawn . On this part of the trip to pagan, foreigners have the right to be, and are, offered deck chairs of cabins on the upper deck.
 
Open to the wins, the ferry, though less elegant, is reminscent of the show boats of the Mississippi. At a snail's pace, it glides on the tranquil waters.
 
Crops and fishermen's huts flourish on the banks of the Irrawaddy. Squatters for a season, the farmer fight to grow lentils and peanuts on those fertile plots enriched by silt . At nightfall, the boats immobilizes itself opposite the bank is plunged into 
 
The archaeological rival of Angkor, 2000 pagodas are spread over Pagan, dispersed by the banks of the river or lost in the fields. In the 13th century, the city was described by Marco Polo as "on the most beautiful sights in the world" . 
 
After many vicissitudes, peace has come again to these sanctuaries, now peopled with the shouts of shepherds and lined with fields of corn and sesame. From the to of the Shwesandaw pagoda, ruins , gilded stupas and pink brick pyramids gleam under the rays
 
Two days later I board the boat, not without difficulty, sailing in the direction of Prome. Full to the rim, smaller and more decrepit than its equivalent in Mandalay, the Prome ferry is attacked, as soon as its arrives, by a crowd of travelling vendors. 
 
As the only Westerner aboard ,I feel I am the target of all eyes; the passengers look at me with good-natured curiosity mixed with stupor...The boat continues its route and describes innumerable circumvolutions to follow the bend of the river. It takes al
 
Luckily we arrive without problem in Margue, where the boat stops for the night. But the next day, only an hour after our departure, the ferry noisily hits bottom and is immobilize in the centre of the river. The machines run to their maximum capacity but
 
Time passes; the passengers show no emotion and take the mishap patiently. After a few hours , some of them decide to leave the boat and take the pirogues that come from the shore. Gradually the boat empties. The crew seem resigned to their fate, waiting 
 
Luckily, I arrive just time to board the ferry to Rangoon. This one is more like a freighter. It stops in the smallest villages to take on more freight every time. Everything produce in Burma seems to come abroad, from rice to coal as well as voluminous l
 
Soon the boat enters the Twante Canal. I feel the proximity of the capital by the number of boats we come across; fishing boats, bamboo rafts covered with pottery, ferries full of passengers, at the edge of the canal, a shiny cupola drowned in the mist ri