About Myammar Country
Bagan in Myanmar
Taking a hot-air balloon ride
over Bagan is not a cheap affair – prices start from US$320++, a hefty premium
price to pay in a country where you can eat a full meal at just US$2-3. Here’s
a little about what the ballooning over Bagan experience was like for me.
An early start
Ballooning to catch the
sunrise means waking up at an unearthly hour when it is still pitch dark,
rubbing sleep out of my eyes as the shuttle make its way to the take-off field.
Breakfast was laid out on tables in the outdoors and I met my balloon pilot for
the first time, an older Canadian man with a slew of experience piloting
balloons across the world.
As breakfast finished and the
dark started to dwindle, more people started scurrying around, helping with the
setting up of the balloons. The quiet pre-dawn air was punctuated with loud
violent hisses and thin sharp flames that heated up the air that fills up the
balloon – somehow it doesn’t seem possible that mere hot air will somehow be strong
enough to fly 13 people and a sturdy wicker basket anywhere.
There was palpable excitement in the air as the balloons rose up
like waking giants struggling to their feet, massive red, green and yellow
blobs popping up all around. Photos were snapped, humble-bragging selfies
posted and everyone was eager to get going. Meanwhile, the pilot stood in the
middle of the basket making his checks, his cockpit consisting of a mere handle
to control the flames, and several ropes to guide the direction of the balloon.
Going up
The first balloons made their ascent while the
rest of us watched in awe as they took off. Then our pilot called us closer,
and suddenly it was our turn to fly, and there was a mad scramble to scramble
over the side of the basket and settle in as the helpers removed the sandbags
and our pilot turned up the flames. Soon enough we were airborne, and we stood
back up to take in the view and wave at the helpers and friends left behind on
the ground, figures getting smaller as we climbed into the air.
Rising up in a balloon isn’t like being in a rocket – it’s
not a sudden upward burst through the atmosphere, more like a slightly rocky,
meandering rise and a feeling like the world is spread beneath you. Sound seems
to fall away with the ground, a serenity only broken by the harsh bursts of
flame as the pilot controls the height of the balloon.
The temples and pagodas that looked statuesque at ground level
looked minuscule from this height, and I realised that there are a lot more
temples than I had imagined, spread across the sprawling brown plain like
little lego houses. I could see a surprising amount of detail in the ground
below, from small rabbit-sized creatures dashing across the patches of
farmland, to scooters carrying tourists, quietly putt-putting their way to
their chosen view point to watch the balloons float past like a ghostly flock
of geese.
My advice is to take all the photos you want
because how often will you get a chance like this to hover in the air, but to
leave some time to quietly appreciate the beauty of this bird’s eye view
through your own eyes instead of your camera’s.
What goes up must come down
About an hour after the initial flurry of take
off, the balloons headed as one to the landing field and started their descent.
We braced ourselves as our basket landed with a thump, nearly tipping over
because of the winds, but the pilot and the helpers manoeuvred us upright,
allowing us to clamber out of the basket with some relief.
The experience ended with a round of champagne
and a certificate of our journey signed by the pilot. It was barely even 9am
when I boarded the shuttle and returned to my lodging, where many of the other
guests were only just waking up for their own breakfasts.
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