First Few Burmese Days

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Note to readers – there will be a cascade of blogs published in the next few hours. I have been writing throughout my time in Myanmar but have not had regular or reliable access to the internet to post them.

My flight touched down in Yangon and taxied to a halt outside the international terminal. The building was nothing like I had expected. The sleek new terminal was clean and spacious inside and the immigration formalities were completed surprisingly quickly. They already had lots of information about me including height, weight, hair and eye colour. In applying for the visa I even needed to give my Father’s name. They stamped me through with a smile and I was met by the pickup I had arranged from a guesthouse in the city.

Flashbacks of my time and first impressions of India came flooding back on the ride into town. My ancient mini van was joined on the bumpy road by a variety of others which were battered, rusty and un-roadworthy. Our headlights cut through the haze of grit and pollution as we meandered through heavy traffic to the town centre. Small teashops and food stalls outside blocks of apartments set alongside narrow side streets flew by as I eventually arrived.

The decision to come here was based on extensive reading and much deliberation. There is much debate surrounding the effects of tourism on the country and its role in sustaining – even possible legitimising – a military dictatorship. Every trip a tourist makes to Burma further lines the General’s pockets as entrance fee’s and various other taxes goes straight to them.

However a large proportion of the money spent by tourists goes directly in to private enterprises and to communities that desperately need it. Tourism can also act as a two way educational channel allowing the people here a vital insight into the global attention their country receives.

On top of this Burma is a fascinating place to behold. It is an untouched version of Asia. Not one that has been tainted by iconic symbols of western capitalism in the form of Golden Arches or designer coffee cups. The synonymous brands we know all too well and are recognisable in most parts of the world are distinctly absent here. What remains is a well preserved culture and way of life that will, eventually I expect, evolve into another Thailand. For now though it represents an incredible adventure – one I could not wait to begin.

I decided for my first day to walk around the central area of town and absorb as much as I could of city life. The first thing that struck me was how very evident it was that this country is poor. The roads and pavements are an absolute mess with broken slabs, uneven pavements and the occasional open sewer. Concentration is required because finding ones self swimming in fetid water is a real possibility.

City life buzzes around these broken streets though and there is an incredible energy about the place. The pavements are full of an enormous amount of vendors which makes these types of walks fascinating. There are an incredible array of people selling items such as books, jewellery, sunglasses, textiles and electronics. Many of these being sold are old and quite clearly second hand already. Some items I would even class as antique yet they are being sold here for daily use.

The street theatre is wonderfully entertaining - telephone stalls are connected by long, trailing wires to an obscure socket for public use, women scatter dried corn to an army of pigeons, vendors call out with balanced vats of food on their heads. The vast majority of people wear the traditional longyi. The longyi is a sort of thinner and longer version of a kilt – a sarong wrapped in a variety of colours and generally a tight chequered pattern. Whether they are young or old, rich or poor, male of female – everyone wears this versatile item that is knotted at the waist.

Crammed down side streets where satellite dishes, washing lines and air conditioning units hang off high grubby apartment block walls there are food stalls, money changers, trishaw drivers, palm readers and many many more. Traffic rushes past these small vendors which on the roads which are laden with old smoky buses jammed with people, dented old taxis and the occasional trishaw.

The first part of my walk took me to one of the city’s main temples called Sule Paya, located in the heart of down town Yangon. This temple acts as a 2,000 year old round about and bisects many of the city’s main roads. On the outside traffic screeches around this beautiful paya but inside the atmosphere is calm and serene. I walked around it a few times and sat on the shaded cool marble floor to enjoy some respite from the heat.

I continued my walk to the riverfront where the Irrawaddy curls around part of the city. Here in particular there are some large remnants of colonial Rangoon – evidence of the 120-year British rule. Some of the buildings, such as the Strand Hotel, are wonderfully restored and painted evoking old-world charm. Others are in a serious state of disrepair with flaky paint and crumbling plaster exposing the brick beneath.

I wandered more through markets and wide-tree lined streets as well as small, dusty, litter strewn ones. On one such street a man offered to read my palm for 1,000 kyat (about $1). I accepted and it turned out to be good fun. Firstly he wanted to convince me of his credentials. He had studied the art of palm reading at school and university to become a professor on the subject – an eminent expert. His prediction was that I will lead a long and happy life with a loving wife, children and incredible wealth and much travel.

Buoyed by the good news I ambled on down the riverfront to my final destination – the Botataung Paya. I spotted the golden zedi from some distance away and made my way towards it. The riverfront is situated parallel to a wide boulevard on which heavy, over-laden logging trucks, buses rammed with people and a variety of old cards thunder along, kicking up a plume of dust and leaving a polluted haze in their wake.

The zedi of Botataung Paya is hollow and the inside the walls and ceilings are lined with intricately carved gold and silver. In the middle is a shrine in which is encased a piece of Buddha’s hair. An incredible amount of money had been passed through an opening here as an offering to the Buddha and lay scattered on the floor in front behind a shield of thick Perspex.

I explored the temple area further which was wonderfully atmospheric at this time of day. The sun was beginning to set and the colours that shimmered off the face of the large golden zedi were fabulous. I wandered around, exploring the various deities, bells, lakes and smaller temples in the complex amongst the other worshipers. Not another single foreigner was in sight as many of the city’s local inhabitants came forth to pray and make offerings or gain merit in some way, which was great to watch.

As the sky turned an inky black and the stars began to twinkle overhead I began walking back to my guest house. The night streets were awash with generators, ready to begin their rhythmic hum as the power shuts down at night. They are scattered everywhere and are the size of cars in some cases. Despite being abundantly rich in energy resources (oil and gas), electricity is a prized resource. Probably because most of it is sold off to neighbouring countries for a fat profit, instead of being used for its own citizens sadly. I found my guesthouse eventually, through the dusty streets and collapsed for the evening, utterly spent.

The main sight on my itinerary for the following day is one of Burma’s biggest tourist attractions both in terms of size and its volume of visitors – The Shewdagon Paya.

Ornate and elaborate long rising hall ways unfurl on four sides of the main zedi. These long, cool and dark passages are guarded at the bottom by enormous white dragon-type characters. Inside, these passages are lined with vendors selling an assortment of items from statues to small bells and ornaments.

These entrances are in stark contrast to the main zedi which lies at the centre of the complex. At the top of the stairway I was catapulted into the bright sunshine and glorious colour of the central complex. This area is awash with glittering gold, green, red and white stupas – the colours are amazing like some sort of Technicolor Buddhist disco. The whole area is full of intricate pagodas with Buddha images, statues, shrines, bells, deities, temples and palm trees.

The marble floor was cool in the morning light as I began to proceed around the central stupa clockwise. The main zedi is quite something. Standing 322 ft high from its base and at over 2,500 years old it is a mesmerising sight. It positively beams in the morning light, soaking up and reflecting the intense glare of the sun like an enormous mirror. The zedi is plated with solid gold – the individual plates (13,153 of them), which amount to over 60 tons – are visible on closer inspection. At the top an assortment of jewels of sapphire, ruby and no fewer than 1,100 diamonds crown this magnificent sight and dazzle like shooting stars as the sun catches them.

There is a constant hubbub of activity surrounding the stupa as it is visited by countless pilgrims and residents on a daily basis. The atmosphere is close to magical as they each pay homage to Buddha and various other shrines next to monks deep in meditation.

One rather more surprising aspect of this sight was the amount of money that seems to be changing hands here. There are large transparent donation boxes in various parts of the temple grounds stuffed with kyat. Donating money is seen as either doing a good deed to gain merit or an act to receive redemption for any wrongdoing. The Burmese people are deeply auspicious people, which is very evident here. I can only imagine this fat wad of cash goes towards the re-gilding of the main zedi, which happens every year.

I observed and explored the grounds here for some time. It certainly ranks as the most impressive Buddhist pagoda I have visited before – even more so than the mighty Wat Pha Kaew in Bangkok. The glittering architecture, magnificent gold zedi and peaceful yet bustling and colourful atmosphere made for an exceptional morning.

My plan after this was to come back and explore the pagoda in the evening, when it is supposed to be at its most magical. However, a swift attack of ‘Burma Belly’ assured that this was not possible. This attack consequently ensured that I spent the next day and a half in bed with crippling gut pains and constant trips to the toilet.

After a sweaty night of discomfort and delirium I felt a little better and ventured out, determined to make the most of my final day in Yangon (until I get back in 3 weeks anyway). I decided to experience more traditional and local life and catch the ferry across the river to a village called Dalah.
The ferry was an experience in itself as I was swept aboard by a sea of people carrying an assortment of produce in tubs on their heads from fruit and vegetables to live chickens neatly packed into a wicker basket. The journey was quick though and the ancient hulking ferry took just 10 minutes to swing across the Irrawaddy.

On the other side I was greeted with a dusty and busy market area into which was squeezed pick-up trucks, market vendors, trishaw drivers and food stalls. The area came alive with the arrival of the boat as people found onward transport or a mid-morning snack whilst trishaw drivers touted for business - the lone white face an obvious target.

I opted to walk the short distance into the village. What I discovered was that, although this place was just over the river, it was a world away from city life. Life here was slower and much simpler. My walking drew many looks and calls of ‘hello!’ or ‘minglaba!’ from the locals. Others looked up with a beaming smile and merely nodded approvingly in my direction.

I passed many different houses and vendors as I walked towards the centre of the village. Men, women and children were all working away either drying fish in the street or selling items from pirated DVD’s, old shoes and various drinks from road-side mats. Everyone was happy and friendly though and it was a joyful stroll.
There was a monastery I had spotted on my walk and I decided to head inside to have a look around. Next to the monastery was also a school and it was not long before a monk with broken English found me.

We started to chat about his time here, how and where he learnt his English and information on the school.
The teachers were all too happy to show me around the classrooms and allow me to see the children’s text books. The children, whose ages range from 5 to 8, were all learning English but were lacking very much in some essential items such as desks, pencils and exercise books. Despite the imperfect conditions the enthusiasm for teaching and learning was great to see.

After this I was taken to meet the head monk who spoke no English but was happy to teach me a couple of words of Burmese and pose for a couple of pictures before we said our farewells.
I made my way back to the bustling harbour to catch the boat back to Yangon and made some new friends on the ferry who were young girls of perhaps 11 or 12 selling drinking water on the boat. They found it positively hilarious as they taught me to say various Burmese words which I’m sure were probably rude or offensive!

I arrived back in Yangon and made my way back to the hotel to ready myself for the impending night bus to Mandalay. Yangon has been a great introduction to all facets of Burmese life from its bustling city streets, smiling chatty and friendly people and magnificent architecture. Mandalay has a lot to live up to.

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Photos

Sule Paya
Currently being cleaned and re-gilded.

Comments

[Summer_Snow]

Feeling of Myanmar Citizen
Your post is splendid and excellent. Very detail. I get goose bump when I am reading your description of Shwedagon Paya. Now I realize more and more to cherish our culture and building. I want to disagree with you for deciding base on broken pavement and bumpy road are evident of poor country. Coz we, as a citizens, we paid all the taxes legally or even under table money to get our things done. Moreover, I don't know whether you have heard before or not, Burmese people who work legally in other country also need to pay income tax to Myanmar Government. We are paying double tax where there is no such thing all over the world. They are controlling our taxes when we extend our passport expired date. Another reasons that I thought the roads have never been repair is ,well that's my thinking only but it might be right, bcoz they move the capital city to NayPyiDaw, which i never consider it's our capital now, from Yangon. They are purposely making Yangon life miserable by making cutting of the electricity and dirty street and bumpy roads. In fact, Burmese people are not that poor but just the government are sucking so much blood from the citizens. You can't imagine how much is the cars and handphone in Myanmar. Those old model 2nd hands cars which you probably couldn't find in other countries anymore are actually more cost then other countries cars. We don't have any installment plan for paying. We must pay all by cash. That's how we buy things. Why is that so? Again, government control all the car importing and selling and buying permit and they don't give permit to anyone unless it's their relative. That is the reason we have to pay so much higher price than it worth. Cars and hand phone are just a few example. There are more other things. You would be surprised if I told you what I think about half of this enormous donation on Shwedagon Paya might also goes to authorities and only a few goes to re-gliding of main zadi. Even though we know it would happen that way, we still donate by thinking only that we are donating to this zadi. Our intention are pure. We are doing a good deed. If they dare to take this money, they are the one who going to hell. I think for them, they don't mind about that since they are confirmed that they will be in hell for next 1000 of lives. I was smiling when I read about "Burma Belly" and I agree with you. When I was living in Myanmar, I didn't notice that. But after awhile I was out of my country and when I visit back to my country. I eat a lot of foods which I miss a lot and every time I've got that and next day have to run to clinic. hahaha.... Next time I bought the medicine first. So you should include what medicine to bring along to Burma. wow... you've got a lot of nice photos. The photo of Sule Paya you taken in front of old City Hall, they actually don't like taking picture in front of old City Hall. Lucky No police approached you after that. I am so happy and interested to read your post and your opinion about my country. Thank you for giving me opportunity to explain and voice out what I've been wanting to tell to the world who still don't know how it actually work in Myanmar. I am sure I will come back and read your many others post and will recommend to my friends. All the best...