Myanmar

After the chaos and pollution of Calcutta, we could not wait to get to Myanmar. Myanmar is a very safe country in general, though there are definitely some iffy areas around the borders, including the well-known "golden triangle" in the north where all the opium trade takes place. Some people -- including the popular female opposition leader and Nobel laureate, Aung San Suu Kyi, who has spent most of her time under house arrest -- argue that visiting Myanmar provides support to a government that is known for maintaining strict control over its people. This of course includes many examples of human rights abuses, an incredible example of which is the famous imprisonment of a comedian for 7 years because of a vaguely insulting joke (he was only recently released). However, we had decided to check it out for ourselves - and as usual, spend our tourist dollars in local establishments where possible, so our money supports the people directly (and not the government). In any case, we had already seen the movie Beyond Rangoon, and we knew Hollywood would never steer us wrong.

Yangon (known as Rangoon in Burmese days) is a beautiful capital city - clean, safe, organized, and very hot, with some of the comforts of home, including a Starbucks impersonation. Dale surprised Dana with several nights at the Sofitel (our first 5-star hotel) for her birthday. We felt just a little silly wearing our Coolmax convertible pants and hiking boots in such a ritzy establishment - but could not get enough of all those 5-star luxuries (especially the cable television and breakfast buffet). We spent a few days organizing ourselves and sorting out the crazy currency situation: tourists are supposed to change some money into fake, monopoly-style tourist currency (called "FECs") which can only be used for accomodation, planes and trains, then some money into local currency (kyat -- pronounced "chat") to pay for food, taxis and buses. Meanwhile, we escaped the minimum FEC changing requirements at passport control by offering a small "present" (ie bribe) to the officials. In this case $1 was enough to do the trick.

In Yangon, we had our first taste of Bamar and Shan food (two of the more common indigenous tribes), which consists of about 65 unidentifyable dishes served all at once. All are fairly tasty except the very fishy soup and ubiquitous fish sauce, which is beyond disgusting. We reluctanly dragged ourselves out of our room to see some music - at places with such innovative names as the ABC Pub and Mr. Guitar. In Myanmar, both karaoke and bands doing cover songs of popular western music (e.g. that Titanic song we're all sick of) are quite popular. By day we visited the ornate Shwedagon Pagoda (see pics below), topped with an enormous diamond and enough gold to fully bejewel all the women of Myanmar.

Next we headed by overnight train up to Mandalay (the famous "Mandalay Express"). We were excited by the large, business-class style seats of the train, but that excitement soon turned into horror as we were bombarded by thousands of mosquitos throughout the entire journey. All of us slept fitfully for the 12-hour journey, with our shirts pulled up over our heads.

We enjoyed peaceful and pretty Mandalay and took a tour of the city on a trishaw, visiting some pagodas, the horribly inhumane local zoo, and up the Mandalay Hill for sunset. That evening we stumbled across a pwe (festival) and sampled some bizarre street food (quail egg pancakes, unidentifyable gelatinous green squares, etc.) while waiting for the show to begin. By 10 pm the show had only just begun, so we watched 2 acts (women doing traditional dance and assorted puppeteering) and headed for home, though the pwe continued until sunrise. En route to our hotel, some local men waved us over to an outdoor beer garden and offered us a drink. One of the men (allegedly an English teacher) began talking about how terrible Myanmar is and how wonderful America must surely be, and was particularly enamored with "Junior Bush" and Abe Lincoln. He then requested that we speak to "Junior Bush" on his behalf and ask Junior for permission please to emigrate to the USA. We explained that we did not actually know Junior Bush, and did not even vote for him so we would probably not have much luck with this request. Our new friend was unwilling to accept our answer and attempted to ply us with liquor hoping that maybe we'd give Junior a late-night drunken call. As we left him Dale wished him good luck, to which he called out after us, "You can't eat good luck."

The next day we took a ferry up the Irrawaddy River to the ancient city of Mingun. Mingun's pagodas were almost totally destroyed by an earthquake in 1838 - the enormous pagoda still stands but with giant fissures in it. We were able to climb to the top (hoping that the whole structure wouldn't split wide open) for a great view of the village, and there are some pics below.

From Mandalay, we headed to Bagan by ferry down the Irrawaddy River. During the 9 hour journey on deck we had great views of all the riverside villages, while inside the cabin Arnold´s movie "Eraser" blasted at top volume. At the Bagan ferry landing we enlisted a horse-drawn cart to take us the nearby village of Nyaung U and the comfy May Kha Lar Guest House. At this time Dana was not feeling well at all and was bed-ridden for a few days as Dale explored the town and ruins by bicycle. One of the benefits to being in a third world country is that there is no system of prescibed vs. over-the-counter medicines, so any drug for which you would normally need a doctor´s prescription in the States is yours for the asking at any roadside pharmacy (often just a stand in an outdoor market). This is fortunate for self-styled doctors like Dale, and he was able to bike from pharmacy to pharmacy and accululate large amounts of anti-parisite meds and antibiotics for just a few dollars. (It goes without saying that the drug cocktail Dale administered to Dana worked like a charm and she was out and about in just 24 hours.)

Bagan is absolutely incredible. In fact, now that we have the benfit of editing this after we have seen Angkor Wat, Cambodia, we would have to say that Bagan is better. There are literally thousands of pagodas spread out as far as the eye can see. One can ride through all the temples and ruins via bicycle (as we did) or rented horse-drawn carts or cars. Despite being a popular tourist site, it's possible to go for hours without seeing any other tourists while biking off the beaten path. Neighboring Nyaung U is a quiet village, but there were enough places to bike around and restaurants to eat in to keep us entertained for a few days. For example, we dined one night at the Nan Saant Thar Italian Restaurant that served surprisingly good homemade pasta (a person can only handle so much Shan or Bamar food).

From Bagan we took a torturous 10 hour bus ride to the village of Nyaungshwe in the Inle Lake region. The bus left at about 4am, so we were all pretty tired. After a few hours, the bus stopped for tea, and a strange looking tourist from the bus wandered up to us, babbled something incoherent, burst out in tears, and wandered off. Dana suggested that Dale go talk to him -- man to man type of thing -- while of course Dale argued that this was good occasion for Dana to put her professional counseling skills to work. As usual, Dana won that battle and Dale went to talked to the poor bugger, though it was incredibly hard to understand the guy through his thick, allegedly Swiss, accent:

Dale: What´s wrong?
Him: Today is the worst day of my life.
Dale: Why?
Him: I am the famous Swiss Baker. Haven´t you heard of me?
Dale: No
Swiss Baker: I work in Thailand. I am not so worried about myself but my girlfried, who is still in Thailand.
Dale: Why?
Swiss Baker: The Germans -- they threatened my life and my girlfriend´s. They don´t want me to do business anymore. My prices are too good.
Dale (thinking this must have something to do with opium or arms dealing, or some sort of sick, grass-roots advertising campaign): You are a baker?
Swiss Baker: Yes! (he sighs as if exasperated) I am the Swiss Baker!
Dale: I don´t understand. You bake bread?
Swiss Baker: Of course I bake bread! Muffins, cakes, everything!
Dale: And the Germans want to kill you?
Swiss Baker: Yes! It is the German bread mafia. And all those other people on the bus, they are Austrian! They hate me so much, they are talking about me the whole time! I can hear every word!
After this, even though the guy was still sobbing, Dale decided that between the paranoia and delusions of grandeur that this was not a friend to swap emails with.

After arrival in Nyaungshwe, we checked into the Four Sisters’ Inn – a small, homey place run by 4 Myanmar sisters. The Inle Lake area is made of numerous small villages built in and around the lake. Many of the villages consist of houses on stilts in the center of the lake – so one must use a canoe to get to a neighbor’s house. It’s a relaxing, slow-paced place where most of the people are farmers and many of the crops grow floating in the lake -- sold later at one of numerous "floating markets". We took a motorboat to the opposite side of the lake to visit a market and other temples and villages. The next day, we were wandering through the outskirts of the main village, when we bumped into Ma Kyi Nyunt, a friendly local Myanmar women who was trying to learn english and start a small touring business. She offered to canoe us around her small village. Everywhere we went, children hung out from their windows waving at us, making us feel like celebrities. We also stopped at various friends´ houses to see what they were up to (like pounding out rice cakes or stuffing rice in bamboo sticks) and at each place we were forced to sample the item and drink some tea. The next day we returned to Ma Kyi’s house-on-stilts to visit with her and her family. In order to get there we had to stand on one side of the canal and shout and wave until someone saw us and canoed over to pick us up. Not being familiar with Myanmar house-visiting etiquette, we brought some bakery items with us. Ma Kyi said she would offer them to her Buddha shrine the next day (we weren’t sure if that was a bad or good thing). She served us copious snacks and tea and before we left she requested that we send a letter to a friend she had made who lives in the States. Of course we agreed, and she was so thrilled that she desperately started poking around her sparse house looking for something to give us in return. Finally she brought over an old, clay opium pipe and said something along the lines of, "This is a gift for you. It is my dead father´s, and is about 200 years old." Of course we could not accept such a nice gift, especially after all the hospitality that this poor-as-dirt woman has showed us.

While in Nyaunghshwe, we took long bicycle rides through vast farmland. We encountered many children who ran after us to say “hello, bye-bye,” and give Dana flowers. A far distance from town we encountered a farm family who had never seen white people before – they couldn’t take their eyes off us and their father translated that they were exclaiming over how white our skin was. While riding bikes we were often stuck in cow traffic jams, and had to push our way through walking (and sometimes fighting) cows to continue.

Dana celebrated her birthday at the Four Sisters’ Inn. During dinner there that evening, Dana noticed 2 dozen local people hanging out in the dining room. She and Dale wondered what they were doing there until the sisters came out with a big birthday cake Dale had arranged as a surprise, and began cutting it into dozens of pieces – enough for the whole neighborhood. We figured birthday cakes are an unusual offering there so everyone in town wanted to try some.

From Nyaungshwe, we flew on a tiny plane back to Yangon and spent a final night at the Sofitel before heading off to Bangkok. We enjoyed Myanmar so much we tried to extend our stay, but all flights out were booked. This country definitely ranked as one of our favorite places so far. Myanmar Pics! (click picture for full-sized version)

Yangon (Rangoon): The Shwedagon Pagoda and a view from inside (a nun walks by)