A blonde moment in Bagan

By HEATHER RAMSAY

Is it original?" The gentle voice startled me, and I turned to find a crimson-clad monk nodding and beaming widely. I had been taking notes and making rough sketches at the Shwezigon Paya in Bagan, Myanmar, so I assumed that he was referring to these.

"Is it original?" he repeated politely. "Your hair."

Sure, my hair was windswept and unkempt from careening around the temples of Bagan on a horse-drawn cart, but I was piqued that he thought it could be an ill-fitting wig or a bad hair transplant.

"Yes, it is original," I answered curtly, stopping short of giving my locks a tug to prove it.

"It's a very nice colour," he said approvingly. "Do you call it golden?"

Blonde moment and international misunderstanding over, we settled down to discuss natural hair colour and the tricky nuances of the English language. It didn't seem at all strange to be talking about such earthly aspects of western life with an ascetic in a country that is quite cut off from the rest of the world.

Theravada Buddhism is the main religion in Myanmar, and monks, spectacular temples and impressive archaeological sites like Bagan show its importance during the country's long history.

The ruins of the fabled kingdom of Bagan sit on a plain bounded by a sweeping curve of the Irrawaddy, or Ayeyarwady River, about 600km north of the capital Yangon (formerly Rangoon). Palaces and other wooden buildings disappeared long ago, but over 2000 brick pagodas and temples still spike skywards from among fields of sesame, maize and pulses. To see so many monuments in a 42sq km area is astounding, but they are mere remnants of a golden era when Bagan was known as the "city of four million pagodas".

The Shwezigon Paya where we sat chatting to the monk was started by Anawrahta, the king who made Bagan the capital of Burma in the 11th century, and finished by Kyanzittha, another prolific temple builder. Built to contain bones, hair and other relics of the Buddha, the shrine was the most important reliquary in Bagan, and its construction also incorporated elements of pre-Buddhist animist spirits called "nats".

This blend of old and new beliefs proved popular and the glittering golden stupa was copied throughout the country. Today many of Bagan's temples and pagodas are archaeological sites more than places of worship, but the Shwezigon Paya still attracts many pilgrims.

After running the usual gauntlet of vendors at the entrance, and hoping that I wasn't wearing a "shameless dress", which a sign said were forbidden, we walked around the base of the pagoda, admiring the architectural detail and pondering the meaning of different structural elements.

We strolled past elderly women smoking enormous hand-wrapped cheroots that almost hid their weathered faces, and whose equally large coughing fits echoed around the complex. Bells tolled and monks chanted, and kids laughed and chattered in the welcome shade cast by the solid spire. People sat in quiet contemplation, while others prayed on the pagoda terrace, bowing so low that their heads touched the ground.

We visited many more temples and caves but when they began to blur into one we decided to follow trails through trees and farmland in search of the river. Even here crumbling stupas punctuated the scenery and novice monks passed by, alms bowls carried casually in the crook of their arms.

In a basic village dogs eyed us as warily, and small children ran away crying at the sight of us. Older ones shyly asked for "bonbons" and "stylos" - proof that Bagan is a popular destination for French tour groups.

On the sandy banks of the river children were kicking a cane ball into a makeshift goal, but the game was abandoned when we appeared. We were interested in the nets in the river, the cultivated plots on the dry riverbed, and the bullocks ploughing the shore, but the kids were interested in us. Their curiosity was truly rewarded when one of us stepped into knee-deep mud while taking a photo of boats unloading their wares.

Watching the sunset over the pagoda-studded plain is the highlight of evening entertainment in sleepy Bagan. We climbed to the top terrace of an obscure temple, which we shared with just a couple of other people. As the yellow orb of the sun flicked its dying rays across the river and tinted the temples and low hills with its lambent flame, an unearthly hush seemed to settle across the plain.

However, some sites get extremely crowded at sunset and a controversial viewing tower is planned to take the pressure off the monuments.

The Bagan temples have endured raids by Kublai Khan's forces, floods, earthquakes, vandalism and looting, so hopefully a sensitive restoration and protection programme will help them to survive for many centuries more.

* Heather Ramsay flew from Bangkok to Yangon courtesy of Thai Airways.