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Published: July 15th 2011
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Actually it won't. I've stubbornly clung to "Burma" as a rather lazy protest against the military junta that runs this joint who renamed the country "Myanmar", but have since learned that renaming the country might have been one of the few sensible things that they have done. The people here don't seem to like "Burma" nor do they refer to their country, language or culture as "Burmese" so hence, I'll give in and refer to it by it's proper name.
The name of the country is only one of the many things I've learned about this amazing country. For instance, I learned that the vast majority of men wear "longhi" instead of pants. Envision a sarong for dudes. It looks quite comfortable and I'm sure the draft is nice but man, do they really need to rearrange them so often? Every where I look there are men re-arranging their longhis and I constantly had to divert my eyes for risk of catching a glimpse of the one eyed monster. I did learn afterward that they were cleverly designed to ensure a high degree of censure.
Women, some of the boys wear a distinctive makeup on their cheeks which resemble
a thick coat of heavy makeup which they haven't bothered to rub in. Apparently, they wear this as a way of appearing whiter or paler. I'm not sure whether I'll see this in other regional countries but we'll see!
Most importantly, the Myanmar people are perhaps the most gracious, kind, warm and hospitable people I have ever met. Aside from a few pushy merchants (hey, no self respecting country is without them), we are greeted wherever we go with smiles, greetings and often unasked for assistance without any expectation of payment.
In sharp contrast to my experience travelling in Africa, I pass as a local here. In spite of my western clothing people have assumed that when in the presence of a white person, I must be their guide. This has worked both in my favour and against it. I've been ignored by waitresses in restaurants not because they were being rude but out of respect by not encroaching on my space as I'm "guiding". Conversely, I put my head down at the toll booth into Bagan where foreigners are charged entry. Not losing sleep over short changing the junta.
Avoiding government services has been a primary
goal. Actually it's quite easy. If we're not sure if the hotel/restaurant/taxi is government run, simply put it through the "does it look gross test". If the answer is no, then it is probably run by the government. The economic restrictions that are placed on private citizens pretty much makes it very difficult for anyone to obtain wealth and foreign sanctions and restrictions makes any foreign investment virtually impossible so anything that looks remotely nice is government run.
In spite of the less than gleaming infrastructure, I'm definitely in my element here. The busses are chaotic, slow and inefficient, the hotels are grubby, cockroach friendly and dingy but also extremely welcoming, homely and full of character.
So to save a nauseating shopping list of my random goings-on in Myanmar I'll attempt an abbreviated volume. Here goes.
First stop was in Yangon, the former capital. So, why was the capital moved to some remote, ass backwards city hours away from the airport? An astrologist recommended it. Seriously. After Bangkok, we were kind of citied out but we did spend the day in the most ridiculously hot and humid weather getting lost while observing the street food and some
of the most impressive pagodas in all of Asia. Yada yada yada... 20 km of walking and buckets of sweating, it was off for a 15 hour bus ride to Inle Lake in the centre/east part of the country.
To say that I stayed ON Inle Lake would be a lie. I had pictured staying at a cute bungalow hostel on the lake. Instead I stayed on a rustic bungalow on the canal about 5KM from the lake or so. So close. More encouragingly, the grey facade and diesel exhaust infused air of the cities was replaced by a vividly green landscape of rice paddies, mountains and clean crisp air. The humidity was replaced by cool breezes and yes, even a sweater made an appearance.
Here, we spent the next few days riding bikes along dusty paths and trails along the mountains searching for scaldingly (and therefore really not useable) hot springs and taking teh odd boat ride to explore the unique lifestyle of those lakeside. Villages poured onto the lake, suspended over the water by stilts and interspersed by floating rows of floating gardens. Ingeniously, boats collect floating lillypad-like plants, weave them together and cover them with
soil and voila! Gardens growing tomatoes, carrots and a plethora of other veggies right out over the lake. Disappointingly, the "Jumping Cat Monastery" should be renamed "Dozing Kittens Monastery". No jumping for us tourists. Shoulda brought my lighter.
Honestly, the highlight of Inle might have been the guesthouse. If every any of you are in the hood, make sure you drop by Queens Inn. Run by the friendliest person ever, we were greeted with freshly squeezed lassi whenever we returned and served a buffet of peanuts, chick peas or soybeans with gallons of tea. The meals were cooked as if she were cooking for her family. Mmmmmm....
Our last stop (and present location) is in Bagan located on the western part of Myanmar. Bagan is home to over 4400 pagodas, most of which were built 1000 years ago. Dotting the landscape, Bagan is an all you can eat of temples connected by dirt roads and best navigated by bicycle. At first glance, most pagodas looked identical but many held their own unique charms. The golden ticket was discovering a pagoda with hidden and completely dark hallways or stairways that often were little more than a foot and a
half wide and 3 feet tall. Eventually you would arise on a platform on the top offering a stunning view of the valley with views of pagodas as far as you could see. Similar to Pompeii, but here there was not another tourist in sight.
I woke today at 4 am to view sunrise from atop a pagoda and arrived back nearly 11 hours later and still wanting to see more in spite of the crippling (but luckily dry) heat. To escape the heat I dozed and read for an hour on the ruins and I still find it incredible to have such an amazing site without anyone to bother me. I can't say enough about this place so I'll stop.
A day trip t Mount Popa, a nearby volcano was a must. Shockingly, there was a pagoda atop the climb and was kept company by friends I've met along the way and a troop of monkeys that were a little too bold for my taste. Oh and I stepped in monkey shit. Barefoot. You win this round, monkey.
Before I sign off, for those playing the "what and when will Ryan lose his..." the first entry
is camera 😞 on day 13. That's right. 2 summers travelling, 2 lost digital cameras. I'm more ticked about the memory card but the bloody thing fell from my pocket while biking. Boo. To my surprise I'm still in possession of my hat and sunglasses... wits might be the next to go!
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