The making of the polo ground was seriously delayed at first on account of the divergent opinions as to the best site, each declaring his selection to be the only one possible, and showering unlimited contempt upon all others. Every day we were dragged off to inspect a new spot, and all appeared to me so equally lacking in points of advantage, that I had no difficulty in impressing each new discoverer with my knowledge in such matters, by disparaging (in confidence) all other schemes than his.
Finally, a site was chosen, and while the ground was in course of construction, those whose views had been disregarded, derived the satisfaction (always to be had in such cases) of discussing the insurmountable obstacles to the selected proposal.
Some afternoons were devoted to rides. The jungle around Remyo is lovely, tho' not being there during the Rains, I did not see it to perfection. There are delightful rides in every direction, and exquisite views from the hills, whence can be seen for miles nothing but undulating waves of jungle, every colour from deepest reds and browns to the bright pink of the peach blossom, and the pale green of the feathery bamboos. It is a wonderful sight, this unbroken jungle, bordered in the far distance by the shadowy blue hills of the Shan States.
Sometimes we visited quaint pagodas, with their neighbouring pretty, many-roofed kyaungs where the yellow robed hpoongyis, wander in meditation, or study 'neath the shade of the palm and banana groves. The pagodas are all very similar in shape, and near to each is a tazoung full of images of Gaudama, with ever the same calm peaceful smile, denoting a philosophy superior to the cares and artificialities of the world around.
Sometimes we rode along narrow jungle paths, bordered by a tangled mass of bright coloured bushes and undergrowth, or by the tall, waving, jungle grass, which is always whispering. These paths lead to tiny collections of bamboo huts, surrounded by high fences to keep out dacoits and other marauders, where the unambitious native leads a peaceful, contented life, under the shadow of the bamboos and peepul trees; an uneventful existence, enlivened, perhaps, occasionally by a Pwé, or visit to a pagoda feast at a neighbouring village.
I enjoyed these expeditions, tho' they were ever fraught with danger to my limbs. Nothing would induce me again to mount a pony (I had had sufficient experience) so I accompanied the others on my bicycle.
Of late years many wonderful bicycle riders have exhibited their tricks to the public, but I am certain none have performed such extraordinary feats as are called for by the state of the Burmese roads, most of them mere jungle tracks, ploughed in every direction into deep ruts by the bullock carts. It was impossible to ride in the furrows, as they were not sufficiently wide to allow the pedals to work round, so I was obliged to perform a sort of plank riding trick along the top of the rut. Occasionally, my eminence would break off abruptly, and unless the bicycle succeeded in jumping the gap a fall was inevitable. Never had bicycle such severe usage, nor ever did such yeoman service as mine; but save an occasional twist of the handle bars, or a bent spoke, I never met with a serious accident, and I soon learned the art of "falling softly."
My anxieties, too, were increased by the mistaken kindness of my companions, who would persist in riding beside me and conversing. One man in particular (I have forgiven him, for I know he meant it kindly) would never consent to leave me to ride alone. He would trot along on his pony, either just beside, or worse still just behind me, when I felt I might fall at any moment, and that he could not help riding over me. He would chatter away gaily, while I, with agonised expression, struggled along, one eye on the road and one eye on the pony, scarce heeding his remarks, making the most hopelessly vague replies to his questions, and committing myself to I know not what opinions.
One day we actually took a walk. We ladies grew weary of our customary amusements, and though we had none of us done much walking since we left England, we hailed the new idea with delight. The men refused to accompany us (the English civilian in the East seems to forget how to walk) so we went with only a servant or two to carry our cameras, refreshments, and other necessities.