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The temples of Bagan - A legacy of Burma’s past glory

The Malikha-2, with her long sleek hull and gleaming white superstructure, looks conspicuously out of place among the motley fleet of rusty barges and workboats tied up at the Mandalay waterfront.

The Malikha-2, with her long sleek hull and gleaming white superstructure, looks conspicuously out of place among the motley fleet of rusty barges and workboats tied up at the Mandalay waterfront. Located near the midpoint of navigation on the mighty Ayeyarwaddy River, Mandalay is a major port of call for boats traveling in both directions, north from the rice fields of the river's vast delta and south from the teak forests and gem mines of the northern hill country. The river is the lifeblood of Myanmar's economy, a vital transportation corridor that extends from the Adaman Sea almost the entire length of the country. But ever since the first settlers built their villages on the banks of the river more than 2,000 years ago the Ayeyarwaddy and the rich alluvial soil of its floodplain and delta have nurtured a succession of pre-Myanmar cultures. And of these the ancient city of Bagan is both the most fascinating and the most bizarre.

Most boats take two days to make the 190 km trip down river from Mandalay to Bagan but the Malikha-2, which was built specifically for the tourist trade and designed for speed, can do it in a mere seven hours. With the help of a makeshift handrail (a bamboo pole held at each end by a crew members) we negotiated a teetering plank from the riverbank onto the boat and made our way up to the observation deck. Coffee and a boxed breakfast were waiting and with three air-conditioned cabins as well as comfortable wicker chairs on the upper deck the Malikha-2 is a first class vessel.

I was still nursing my morning coffee as we cruised past temple-studded Mandalay Hill and slid under the city's two bridges. Beyond the bridges, the countryside is rural with little sign of habitation and, except for a few tiny skiffs the river itself is quiet. We pass a few sleepy villages where people and cattle are resting in the shade of thatched dwellings. The occasional golden dome of a stupa and a few scrub-covered hills are all that break the flat monotony of the floodplain. I asked one of the crew, who spoke some English, about the stupas, which are scattered across the countryside.

"In the Buddhist faith," he tells me, "it is important to earn merit for a good afterlife, and building a stupa or a temple earns a lot of merit." I'm not sure I followed all the nuances of his explanation but it seems that earning merit is rather like saving air-mile points for that final journey — the amount you get depends what on you spend to earn it — a bit of merit for feeding a monk, more for donating to a monastery, and a really big whack of merit for building a religious structure. In which case King Anawrahta and the folks who built Bagan must have had one hell of a ride into the hereafter.

Except for a bend in the river there is nothing to distinguish the place where Bagan stands from any other part of the Ayeyarwaddy valley. But although the land is flat and featureless it bristles with the domes, spires, and parapets of thousands of sacred structures.

The history of Bagan dates from 107 AD when 19 surrounding villages amalgamated to form the first Bagan Dynasty. But it was not until AD 1057, under King Anawrahta, that the building boom really took off. Anawrahta was introduced to Buddhism by a monk from Thaton who so thoroughly converted him that he abandoned his animist gods and enthusiastically embraced the teachings of Buddha. In 1057, hoping to gain both personal merit and prestige for his newly enlightened kingdom, Anawrahta requested some sacred scriptures and relics from the King of neighboring Thaton. When his request was rebuffed he assembled his army and, with the help of 30 elephants, overthrew the Thanton King and carted him and his holy books back to Bagan — and so began the Golden Era of Bagan's history. Driven by religious fervor and an obsessive quest for merit King Anawrahta and his subjects began a frenzy of building that lasted more than 200 years and saw the construction of an estimated 4,446 sacred structures on the banks of the Ayeyarwaddi.

No one knows why it all came to an end, but after flourishing for 230 years, Bagan suddenly slid into decline. Kublai Khan and his Mongol raiders ransacked the city in 1287 but there is evidence that it may already have been abandoned. Until the British established a presence there in the late 1800s the temples of Bagan became the spooky refuge of bats and spirits, avoided by everyone except a few bandits.

Despite the ravages of time, earthquakes, and corrosive bat dung more than 3,000 of Bagan's temples and pagodas are still standing. Several, like the Shwezigone Pagoda, have been restored to their original gold-embossed splendor, and Bagan, after centuries of crumbling into limbo, is once again attracting Buddhist pilgrims from throughout Southeast Asia and tourists from around the world.

We checked in to one of the Theante Hotel's bungalows in Nyaung U, a small town tucked into the northeast corner of the Bagan Archaeological Zone. With its colourful market, bustling waterfront, and lively restaurant row, Nyaung U is more than just a gateway to the temples of Bagan. The Theante Hotel is within easy walking distance of the market and jetty, and the magnificent Shwezigone Paya is only a short ride away in one of the town's many horse carts. But our three days in Nyaung U were barely enough to scratch the surface of this far-flung Buddhist Empire. The Bagan Archaeological Zone with its multitude of pagodas and maze of dirt roads and trails sprawls over an area of 42 square km.

We began our "temple crawl" with a visit to Shwesandaw Pagoda, which was built by King Anawarhta shortly after his 1057 conquest of Thanton. Five incredibly steep sets of stone stairs in the massive square base lead to a terrace just below its graceful circular stupa at the top. Even in a good pair of boots the stairs, which have no railings, would be a challenge. In bare feet the climb is daunting. But Shwesandaw, which enshrines a Buddha hair, is sacred ground and, like most of Bagan's Temples and Pagodas, shoes are forbidden.

The view from Shwesandaw's upper terrace across the pagoda-studded plain to the Ayeyarwaddy River and the hills beyond is truly spectacular. Ong Way, our knowledgeable local guide, pointed to some other temples we would visit and I was amazed at how far away they appeared. Even standing in their midst it's hard to comprehend the massive scale of Bagan's ruins. We visited 12 structures in all — both stupas (pagodas), and temples. The stupas are solid domes with no interior space, which commonly enshrine some sacred relic of The Buddha. Shwezigon’s graceful gold embossed Stupa is said to house a replica of the Buddha tooth. The temples, with their dimly lit passageways and lofty inner chambers, are stunning works of architecture. Some, like the Kyanzittha Cave Temple with its ancient frescos, are tiny. Others, like Ananda Paya, which towers 52 metres above the plain, are massive multi-chambered complexes. But every Temple, whether large or small, enshrines a Buddha Image and Alter where the faithful come to light their incense sticks and pray.

At sunset on our final day in Bagan we climbed to the top of Buledi Temple. As I looked at the hundreds of sacred spires silhouetted against a bright red sky I thought about the thousands of people who toiled away their lives to build this place. Like the pyramids of Egypt, and the Cathedrals of Europe, the Temples of Bagan are a product of mankind’s eternal quest for a better afterlife — a testament to the powerful influence of religion.