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A taste of Myanmar – where time stood still

Once off-limits, Myanmar has recently opened up to reveal a magical land of gilded pagodas and welcoming locals, largely untouched by the wider world. Words by Alissa Jenkins, photography by Ewen Bell

The morning haze blurs the horizon, making today’s cloudless sky barely distinguishable from the lake.

Peppering the steel-blue backdrop are rows of bamboo poles (used to fix floating gardens to the lake bed) and cone-hatted fishermen crouching on the nose of their motorised canoes.

Minus the drone of our own motorboat and the occasional singing swallow, it’s silent, serene and undeniably picturesque.

Though Inle Lake is one of Myanmar’s most popular travel destinations, spanning over 116 square kilometres, the country is yet to see visitor numbers anything like that of its neighbouring nations.

Sandwiched between Thailand, Laos, China, India and Bangladesh, all of 15,000 Australians travelled to Myanmar in 2014, compared to the half-million who visited Thailand next door. Still relatively new to the tourism game, it’s a destination that has slipped under the radar of most.

In the weeks prior to my trip, whenever I tell friends and family of my travel plans, their reaction is much the same: “You’re going where?" Then I mention the country’s former name, Burma.

Officially renamed the Republic of the Union of Myanmar in 1989, it’s been largely off-limits due to political unrest that resulted in one of the world’s longest-running civil wars. In the last 100 years alone Myanmar has been run as a British colony, an independent nation, a military dictatorship and, since 2011, a civilian government.

Now with a dissolved military junta, democratic elections held in November 2015 that saw Ang San Suu Kyi’s National League for Democracy (NLD) win a majority in parliament, and an established Ministry of Hotels and Tourism, the republic is on the up and open.

Continuing along Inle Lake’s glassy top, thatched-roofed homes hover on stilts between swathes of floating garden, their reflections rippled away by passing boats. Marking the entrance to each are gnarled timber jetties where women with cheeks smeared in custard-like thanaka sit and wash their laundry.

As we deviate off into narrow canals, whirring past boisterous boys frolicking in the shallows and grazing water buffalo, we eventually arrive at the small creek-side village of Indein – home of Inn Thein Pagoda. Here hundreds of ancient, weather-beaten stupas (and newer less-elaborate versions) erupt out of the overgrown setting.

“When people have enough money they build stupas as meritorious good deeds," says our Exo Travel guide and Burmese local, Yè Thiha Thwin. He explains that merit-making plays a pivotal role in Buddhist belief as we wander around the towering structures, spotting only two other visitors in the distance inspecting the brickwork.

This isn’t the only or the largest Buddhist sanctuary on Inle Lake, let alone in wider Myanmar. With almost 90 per cent of the population practising Buddhism, Myanmar is one of the most devout Buddhist countries in the world.

The landscape glitters with gilded stupas and centuries-old temples, and many more saffron-draped monks and novices. Yè explains that it’s customary for a man to serve in a monastery at least once in his life.

The largest and holiest of all such sites is Shwedagon Pagoda; the gold-plated heart and soul of Myanmar’s largest city (and former capital), Yangon, 600 steamy kilometres south of Inle Lake. Said to be over 2500 years old, its imposing gold dome rises 99 metres high, crowned in thousands of emeralds, rubies, diamonds and various other jewels donated by local people. Having survived several earthquakes, a fire and decades of conflict, it serves as both a revered shrine and beacon of hope to Burmese people.

Arguably even more iconic than Shwedagon and claiming more ooohs and ahhhs than Inle is Myanmar’s Bagan plains, characterised by thousands of temples and pagodas, built around the 12th century.

But Myanmar’s appeal doesn’t lie solely in its past. Fast forward to today and its people are as refreshing as the largely unurbanised landscape.

In contrast to the strict militant control that once ruled Myanmar, it seems the people are correspondingly open, welcoming and curious to meet the growing number of travellers roaming their homeland. “If you accidentally leave your phone in a taxi for example, you’re more likely to get it back again here," says Yè as one by one we climb back into the motorboat.

It’s a telling comment about the kind of place this is, especially since mobile phones only reached Myanmar barely three years ago, initially costing several thousand dollars a pop. But as globalisation continues to seep in, sim cards can now be bought for a couple of US dollars, wi-fi (although sluggish) is becoming increasingly widespread, while ever more contemporary car models are chugging along Myanmar’s quiet streets.

With visitor numbers on the rise, so too are tourist experiences like our next stop on Inle Lake, Inthar Heritage House.

Once docked we saunter along a stained-timber boardwalk, garlanded with bougainvillea vines, towards a buzzing three-storey house on stilts. Modelled off a traditional Burmese home, the upper levels comprise an acclaimed restaurant, a recreation of a traditional bedroom and an art gallery showcasing the works of local artists. However, it’s downstairs that we’ve come to see.

Tip-toeing down into a series of timber-clad rooms, we find the tenants sprawled out and sunning themselves on window-side lounges until they notice our arrival. Within seconds a handful of Burmese cats are slinking towards us at the entrance, welcoming us with leg nuzzles.

Opened in 2009, Inthar’s cat sanctuary was set up to help breed pure Burmese cats and reintroduce them to their home country after the pedigree died out here after the Second World War. Some chocolate, others smoky and a couple champagne in colour, they prowl around us as we walk through to the outdoor ‘Cat Village’, where more moggies are dozing inside mini palaces overlooking the lake.

I crouch down to photograph the golden eyes of one resident, a feature that the Burmese breed are renowned for, when suddenly a delicate bundle leaps up onto my shoulders and curls itself around my neck. It would appear that Burmese cats are also renowned for their affectionate nature.

Later that afternoon, when our day on the lake draws to a close, we glide back to our hotel, Novotel Inle Lake Myat Min, the only international hotel to open in the area as yet.

Fishermen reel in their last-ditch efforts for tonight’s dinner, while others heave dripping loads of weeds aboard that will be dried and used as fertiliser.

It’s an exciting time to be in Myanmar, witnessing the traditional way of life on the brink of a modernised future, bright as the glowing orb now slowly sinking towards the horizon.

With a flock of cormorants flapping overhead before they roost, I hope that in the years to come the appeal of tourist dollars is balanced with the protection necessary to maintain the authenticity of this place. A place that we’ll all soon know the name of.

 

Details

GETTING THERE

Qantas fly daily between major Australian airports and Singapore, while Jetstar operates flights between Singapore and Yangon daily.

Although Myanmar is a relatively new frontier, Jetstar has been flying this route for over 10 years.

STAYING THERE

We stayed with Accor Hotels – one of the few international hotel brands to establish Burmese outposts, including the lavish Hotel Novotel Inle Lake Myat Min on Inle Lake.

Accor hotels offer packaged deals with Exo Travel, which guided us through Myanmar.

Exo offers tailor-made tours so prices vary widely.

Visit exotravel.com for more information.

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WHAT TO BRING HOME

Myanmar is well known for its precious stones, especially rubies and jade, but there are many knock-offs around.

If you do pick a gem keepsake, make sure you ask for an official receipt or certificate issued by government-licensed dealers. The export of gems and stones without such documentation is illegal.

Failing that, you’ll find an array of gorgeous fabrics, scarves and throws at any one of Myanmar’s many markets.

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These community homestays are changing how travellers experience Nepal

    After youth-led protests in 2025, this year Nepal elected a 35-year-old former rapper as Prime Minister. In a country where tourism is its biggest industry, what’s next for travellers? 

    In 1986, Nepal changed its clock. It had used India Standard Time since 1920 so, to differentiate, it wound its clock 15 minutes ahead of, not behind, its big-brother neighbour. Boss move. “Nepal is strongly opposed to the idea that our identity is connected to India,” says Community Homestay Network (CHN) guide Bikal Khanal.  

    Tharu dance
    Tharu dance is traditionally set to hand drums. (Credit: Kate Lewis)

    Today, Nepal is the only independent country with a 45-minute deviation to universal time; an oddity that’s become a symbol of national pride. The quirk is nearly as endearing as Kathmandu’s Tribhuvan airport where carved varnished wood and shiny red bricks rule. One sign points to a ‘Travelator’ and another to a ‘Grievance Handling Desk’ while visas are noisily stamped at customs for US dollars, cash only. When am I?  

    Nepal gray langur
    Spot the endemic Nepal gray langur. (Credit: Simon Urwin)

    The 15 or 45 minute anomaly sees me tap out completely on timezone calculations. Why bend my brain calculating if it’s quarter to or quarter past elsewhere when I’m in the honking here and now of Kathmandu where the air is high-altitude crisp, the prayer flags flutter and the street dogs howl?  

    How tourism is changing in Nepal

    Bardiya National Park
    Bardiya National Park is rich with wildlife. (Credit: Simon Urwin)

    India is not the only association many Nepalis would like to shake. With eight of the world’s 10 tallest mountains, including Mount Everest and Annapurna, Nepal has long attracted mountaineers and trekkers, and expedition numbers are continuing to rise.  

    Tourism is one of the country’s biggest sources of foreign currency, so this growth is not negative, per se. But according to Ang Tshering Lama, who co-founded Phaplu Mountain Bike Club, being reduced to a mere trekking destination is limiting.  

    “Trekking is just one layer of our identity,” says Ang. “When it becomes the dominant narrative, it limits how we’re seen and how we see ourselves.” Nepal’s recent success, however, in diverting trekkers to less-trafficked areas such as Manaslu mofuntain, where visitor numbers rose by 117 per cent last year, offers hope that tourism can diversify even more radically.   

    Local men in Bhada village
    Local men in Bhada village. (Credit: Simon Urwin)

    The founder of CHN, Shiva Dhakal, wants that change. “The whole idea of the Community Homestay Network is to promote experiences outside of trekking,” he says. “Community tourism changes lives and helps kids stay home instead of coming to the city or migrating to the Middle East.”  

    Ang grew up seeing people leave, “not because they wanted to but because there weren’t enough opportunities to stay”, he states. Yet from remote villages to living traditions; food, art, music and emerging subcultures, “there’s so much that’s not being seen.” 

    CHN is opening some of those doors. It doesn’t own, or fund, any homes. Rather, it promotes homestays to travellers on a single, slick platform, while fostering entrepreneurship in places where women, marginalised castes, Indigenous people and the youth stand to benefit the most.  

    A new generation demanding more

    Dalla Town Hall
    Dalla Town Hall, where volunteers discuss anti-poaching tactics. (Credit: Bheem Thapa)

    The future prospects of next-gen Nepalis can no longer be ignored. On a Kathmandu tour with 33-year-old guide Monica K.C, we pass buildings torched in the September 2025 ‘Gen Z protests’, including the Supreme Court and Parliament House. Seventy-two people died. “They were anti-corruption protests,” says Monica. “Politicians’ children are living a lavish life but the airports are crowded with youngsters leaving to find work.”  

    We stop in ‘little Tibet’ at the wondrous sixth-century Boudha Stupa. “The wheel of life is Buddhism in a nutshell,” says Monica. “Things such as hate, ignorance and anger keep you rotating around the wheel, so you must follow the principles of Buddhism to detach. If you can’t, there’s no nirvana for you.”  

    Boudha Stupa's prayer wheels
    Boudha Stupa’s prayer wheels are used to recite Buddhist prayers. (Credit: Kate Lewis)

    In a sun-drenched twist to the usual temple visit, we ascend the stupa’s sloping plinth and roam its whitewashed dome. Tendrils of diaphanous prayer flags stream from a steeple-like structure where the Buddha’s unblinking eyes stare out. No nirvana for you… 

    bouda stupa prayer flags
    Tibetan-style prayer flags embellish the whitewashed dome of Bouda Stupa, a Buddhist temple. (Credit: Kate Hennessy)

    The dome is delightfully free of guard rails or chiding from security. There is, however, a stern ‘No TikTok’ sign, perhaps in response to the youth’s newly flexed power. The booted-out Prime Minister, K.P. Sharma Oli, was replaced in a resounding election victory in March by 35-year-old Balendra Shah of the Rastriya Swatantra Party (RSP) – a former rapper and mayor of Kathmandu. The RSP’s manifesto indicates tourism is a priority, and that Nepal’s cultural identity in areas such as gastronomy will be strengthened.  

    Boudha Stupa vendors
    Vibrant souvenir shops and cafes around Boudha Stupa. (Credit: Kate Hennessy)

    A more confronting stop awaits at Pashupatinath Temple. Today is Bala Chaturdashi, a Hindu festival where thousands of devotees gather to honour their dead ancestors. Vendors hauling foam mattresses do a lucrative trade as people set up for a night of vigil. This includes burning the bodies of recently deceased relatives on bamboo pyres in the Bagmati River, which flows into the sacred Ganges.  

    A woman at annual Hindu festival Bala Chaturdashi
    A woman at annual Hindu festival Bala Chaturdashi, in Kathmandu. (Credit: Kate Hennessy)

    Wrapped in a shroud, the bodies are positioned with their heads facing north to the Himalayas where Lord Shiva resides. They’re covered with flowers and straw and set alight by male family members.  

    Hours later, the ashes are swept into the river where devotees will take a holy dip the next day. As much as Monica assures us it’s not voyeuristic to watch, I struggle to do so. “Here you see the reality of life because everyone ends up there,” she says, gesturing to the river.  

    Life unfiltered in the Terai region

    tharu woman
    Tharu woman and master weaver Parbati Chaudhary in Bhada Village. (Credit: Bheem Thapa)

    The reality of life needs processing time, which the western Terai region delivers in spades. The Terai is largely separated from India by the Karnali River and Bardiya National Park, where elephants, rhinos and the elusive Bengal tiger roam.  

    Once a nomadic tribe, the Indigenous Tharu people are now the largest ethnic group here. “They didn’t know their daily life was interesting for international travellers but they’re starting to understand now,” says CHN founder Shiva.  

    safari through Bardiya National Park
    Take a Jeep safari through Bardiya National Park. (Credit: Bheem Thapa)

    We fly Buddha Air to Dhangadhi airport and drive five hours to stay in Tharu homes. The journey to Bhada village is a blur of roadside fruit stalls, traffic-stopping sacred cows and fields sown with wheat, rice, mustard, spinach, cauliflower and potatoes. Nepal’s agriculture feeds only Nepal.  

    Marigolds
    Marigolds are an important part of Hindu rituals. (Credit: Simon Urwin)

    “The only thing we export is young people,” says our guide Bikal. As the light dims and we plunge evermore rural, mysterious mounds of compacted hay – some house-sized – loom like the creatures from Where The Wild Things Are. Even our trusty driver gets flummoxed by a dirt road that abruptly ends and we find ourselves hurtling across a paddock.  

    On arrival, some are ferried to mud-walled cottages greened by gourd creepers, with thatched roofs and rustic-chic mosquito nets. Myself and two others are ushered to the home of corner store owner, mechanic and mushroom farmer Man Kumar Chilaruwa and his wife Rajkumari.  

    community homestay entrance
    A warm welcome at a community homestay. (Credit: Simon Urwin)

    They escort us to a bunker-esque back building with steel doors and a folding security gate, behind which is gleaming linoleum, dolphin-printed tiles and a shower cavity that must be gingerly stepped through to reach the toilet.  

    The ceiling lights emit a rainbow of colours (the bathroom light gets stuck in, frankly, a quite frightening red). We’re nevertheless touched that our hosts invested in all this bling when the average salary is around $275 a month.  

    In the coming days, we participate in Tharu traditions such as making moonshine, dancing, weaving straw handicrafts and gold-panning. We’re fed well with staples of rice, mustard greens, lentil pancakes, daal, curried chicken and tomato chutney served on antibacterial saal leaves.  

    food at community homestay
    Dig in. (Credit: Kate Hennessy)

    Sonara community homestay president Indradevi Tharu tells us river snails are often served, and the boiled and pickled flesh of rats hunted in the rice fields. “Perhaps next time?” we say and all have a laugh.  

    The power of community homestays 

    community homestay owners in Nepal
    Barda community homestay owners Parbati Chaudhary and Ram Krishni Devi Chaudhary. (Credit: Simon Urwin)

    Immersing Western visitors in foreign cultural practices is not new. But with the Tharu, I never get that uneasy sensation that I’m being performed for. Despite being the only tourists, there’s no ‘othering’; just warm, composed and ultra-dignified welcomes. Like we’ve always been here.  

    “I love to have travellers in my village so I can see the world,” says local woman Parbati Chaudhary. “Why would I travel the world when the world comes to me?” 

    The graceful acceptance the Tharu offer, as well as the slow pace, works miracles on my frazzled nervous system. One day I even take a nap on a vacant homestay bed. 

    Sonara community room
    An authentic stay in the Sonara community. (Credit: Kate Hennessy)

    Roosters strut and goats bray as we sit on the ground in al fresco kitchens, rolling rice flour into cylinders steamed to make dhikri (dumplings). When water is needed, we fetch it using a hand-operated pump as a family of ducks strolls by, side-eying us like curious neighbours.  

    Animal lovers will delight in Tharu villages. Kind and resourceful inventions are everywhere, such as snacking stations where two posts lean together, with leafy boughs dangling on rope for baby goats to forage from.  

    CHN’s CEO, Aayusha Prasain, nods knowingly when one in our group says she cried when she left her host, Shayam Chaudhary, in Bhada. Shayam’s 17-year-old son, Prashant, had translated, which deepened the connection.  

    “Community tourism turns travel into a relationship, not a transaction,” says Aayusha. “It places decision-making power in the hands of local communities, especially women and youth.” Since 2018, CHN has hosted more than 4000 travellers from 52 countries in 408 households, and estimates women’s participation has increased by 381 per cent.  

    Elephant watch
    Elephant watch. (Credit: Simon Urwin)

    In the Bardiya community, where vexing human-animal conflict has been a balancing act for decades due to elephants raiding crops, long-time homestay operator Salik Ram Chaudhary says young people keep the older ones on their toes.  

    Gathering greens
    Gathering greens. (Credit: Bheem Thapa)

    “We can’t keep homestays stagnant,” he says. “We have to upgrade our service and redefine our product or young people won’t see it as an attractive business. If we can keep evolving with this travelling trend we’re confident the youths will stay and continue it.” 

    Back in Kathmandu, Monica explains that after the deaths of young protestors in September, a determination had spread to not let their sacrifice be in vain. “We want to keep holding the government accountable,” she says. “We don’t know what situation we’re facing, but we’re ready to face it.”  

    Interested in Nepal but prefer to experience it in total comfort? Read our guide to luxury travel in Nepal