Temple-Hopping in Bagan

BAGAN, MYANMAR- Four thousand, four hundred temples are scattered across the plain of Bagan in an area the size of Manhattan. The temples were built over a period of 230 years (from the 9th through the 13th centuries.) This is fairly amazing considering the size and architectural and artistic intricacy of many of these buildings.
I set out around 9am by horse cart. In that my priority is good early lighting for photography with as many temples as possible, I decide against taking a bike. The bikes are one-speed, clunky cruiser-type models that often get bogged down in the sandy areas on dirt roads. The horse cart by contrast, is an open but covered cart with a thick foam pad in the back. With a good imagination, I could picture myself as one of the Burmese kings reclining in my coach, being fed slices of jackfruit as I survey the monuments my slaves have built for me. But I don’t have that good an imagination.
Speaking of the kings who ordered the construction of these temples, many were quite a horrific yet interesting bunch of characters. In fact they were not unlike many of the narcissistic meglomanics who were having cathedrals built for their legacies in Europe around the same time period. The following are some examples of a few of these early Burmese kings. Upon conversion to Theraveda Buddhism, King Anawratha demanded that the monk who converted him hand over the classic Buddhist texts and relics. When the monk refused Anawratha sent an army to the monastery and stole them. He then proceeded to build Buddhist temples. King Narathu decreed that the bricks in his mortarless Dhammayangyi Temple fit together so tightly that not even a pin could pass between them. He then decided that he didn’t want anyone to ever build a temple similar to Dhammayangyi. So he had all of the people killed who were instrumental in its design.
Many of these structures consist of a centered finial or sikhara (a corncob-like tower) surrounded halls on all four sides, each containing a large Buddha statue. Sometimes the tower is a stupa or zedi (a solid, cylindrical cone) and sometimes it is surround by any number of smaller stupas on the corners of each tier of the temple. A few have temples such as Dhammayangyi, almost resemble a Mayan pyramid in their basic shape. Many have some variation on the Indian-influenced sikhara or tower. This is a great simplification for the temples in Bagan are quite diverse in their size, design and detail.
But all of the temples are in varying states of disrepair, as you might think they would be after 1000 years. Some appear to have been almost completely rebuilt with new bricks and concrete. Unfortunately, time is not the only thing that has taken its toll on these buildings. Earthquakes, (especially a 6.5 on the Richter in 1975) have significantly sped up the process of decay. Fortunately though, renovation and reinforcement of the temples have been greatly helped by UNESCO.
So after two days of taking horse carts out the temple grounds, I decide to take a bike. It’s getting close to 4:30pm and I want to get out to the popular Shwesandaw Paya before sunset. Shwesandaw itself is a relatively simple stupa-type structure, but it near sundown it becomes a tourist mecca for the great views it affords. After several wrong turns with helpful locals telling me it’s just down the road, I find what I believe is the right turnoff. It’s an uneven dirt road. I curse as the rickety old bike bogs down in patches of sand as I make my way through the magical, temple-dotted landscape. A young woman up the road carries two full buckets on each side suspended from a bamboo shaft across her shoulders.
“Shwesandaw?” I ask pointing at the large stupa ahead. She confirms I’m going the right direction. I pull up, park and lock my bike and then slowly scramble up the steps. The steps are about 14 inches high (reminding me of my Yangon guesthouse which seems to have used the same architect) going up about a 70 degree grade. It makes Half-Dome in Yosemite seem like a breeze. These steps only have one railing. A terrified-looking, Japanese tourist passes me going down sideways and very slowly. Busloads of tourists are arriving and people are steadily making their way up the stairways on all four sides to the middle and top tiers of Shwesandaw. We all watch as the sun sinks into the mountains behind the Ayerwaddy River. Looking back, I see orange highlights on the already sienna temples spread across the eastern Bagan plain. It’s a perfect way to end a day- my last in the wonder that is Bagan.