Ngwe Saung, Burma

It's been a full 12,000 miles since we last saw the sea: the Aegean to the Andaman. We ran over the hot sand and charged into the surf, as Ngwe Saung marked the end of our travels. For now, anyway.

In this stunning beach setting we took the time to reflect on all the experiences of our last 8 months exploring Asia. Before starting to wonder about the rest of the world.

Inle Lake, Burma

There is an otherworldly feel to the beauty of Inle Lake. The shallow waters are fringed by an all but lost way of life where vegetable patches float and inhabitants paddle along boats with just one leg.

Pushed along in this peculiar manner we explored the semi-aquatic street-life of a village built entirely on stilts. It's a surreal feeling to glide along at the eye level of tomatoes, broad beans and chillis growing voraciously on little organic islands.

At another village, we visited a project supported by our irrepressible new friend, Pascale. A workshop producing refined scarves from silk and the root of the vital lotus plant.

Behind the tourist friendly shop-front a team of craftsmen and women keep alive their traditional techniques. We were humbled to learn that the silk-workers' daily reward was less than the change from a modest purchase.

The many traditional ethnic groups of the area are recognisable by the colour of their rich clothes. We couldn't help but be inquisitive and our friend Nan Pan, a more worldy modern Burman, was able to break the ice.

We soon became objects of curiosity ourselves. Kids in the marketplace stopped to stare at us before collapsing into giggles.

The extraordinary sights, sounds and feelings of exploring Inle Lake, and in such good company, will live long in our memory.

Stilted Village (video clip)

Our extraordinary tour of an ordinary village on Inle Lake.

Bagan, Burma

Bagan is the most magnificent complex of ancient temples we'd never heard of. On a dusty plain by the Irrawaddy river, noble kings and petty despots have been building pagodas here since the 9th century. There are now thousands of them. Some crumbling, some brand new.

Bagan should be world renowned for its history and beauty. It could be a modern tourist mecca congested with tour buses. As it was, we toured the vast area with a few new friends by bicycle, fuelled by freshly ground cane sugar juice.

A knowledgeable young guide showed us the exquisite frescoes, Buddhist icons and long forgotten nooks of one of the few pagodas we managed to explore.

In truth, we gave the temples short shrift, for in Bagan we became English teachers.

Our class of young adults were so keen to learn that the cultural wonders took a back seat as we began classes in a spare space in the local monastery. We offered only enthusiasm and native vowel sounds but were soon overwhelmed, and a little embarrassed, by the generosity shown in return. Our students gave us performances of lute-playing, traditional dancing, gifts of watermelons, paintings and wood carvings and made us guests of honour at their peanut-farming village.

One day, when we return, we really should spend more time admiring the pagodas.