We
were a little nervous about venturing into Myanmar for several reasons. Is it
really the right thing to do? Can we afford it? Do we really have enough
mint-conditioned US dollar bills to survive without being able to use ATM
machines? Are we really up for the difficult challenges and hard travel
involved? We
needn't have worried on any account. Things have changed since our guidebook was
written and as in all developing countries at a rate of knots. We
decided to spread the money we can afford to spend around among the smaller
independent businesses rather than spending exclusively with government travel
operators so the moral dilemmas about not coming are not so compelling, while simultaneously
trying to live on a smaller budget. We will definitely have enough bills and
the ATMs are now dispensing Kyat anyway. It is not that difficult and, well, so
far the more harrowing journeys are still before us.
The
Chinese traders of gold in the flashy red shops, the street side fresh
vegetable markets groaning with produce and their wily business sense are
infused with a mellowing Burmese attitude we discovered yesterday in Chinatown.
It is near impossible to discern who is who in terms of heritage but I have
never heard less Chinese spoken in a Chinatown before and we have been to a
good number around the world as we are automatically drawn to them and always
end up loving it!
That quintessentially Thai way of presenting fruit in such an appealing and instantly edible way, the quick, easy, genuine smiles and child like delight in the simplest things as well as the face-painting and Buddhist devotion all instantly take me back to Thailand but here they are still somehow Burmese not just a copy.
The
pan chewing, selling and staining of public streets, the henna red hair of the
men, the delicious curry, fried snacks and sweets of many of the street stalls,
the lilting Indian accented English, and the many Hindu and Muslim places of
worship located in the same neighborhoods also project a similar atmosphere to
India but still it is not the same.
There
is a cross-cultural feel with pan vendors having Chinese faces and Indian
street stalls selling noodles and Burmese dishes. There seems to be no
animosity and a great deal of not just tolerance but acceptance, harmony and
goodwill.
We
delighted in seeing the ever-changing vendors pedal their wares on the circle
train loop around Yangon yesterday. Pineapples, pan, stuffed tofu with chilli,
donuts with sugar and condensed milk, bananas, and noodles were among the few I
could recognize but there were more that I couldn’t. Not all on sale was food
and 2 shoulder poles of hats and a variety of Buddhist magazines were also
available. That is to say nothing of the bags, basket loads and bundles of
fresh vegetables going home with their buyers. The vendors mostly carry their
goods on their heads and then plop down on the low stool, they carry with them,
in front of each customer, once they have indicated that they will buy. One
needs to be quick to make a purchase as the vendors swap carriages at each
station and they are only a few minutes apart.
The 3 hours was a wonderful
insight into how and where the real people live and the other passengers were as
keen to understand us as we were them. The sheer awe on the faces of the
children and elderly as we sidled by the airport runaway was a joy to behold. Once
we had past the taxiing planes other passengers crowded around to see if I got
any decent snaps and a few gave me the thumbs up. The train was excellent
entertainment and great value for a $1 fare even though we suspect that was
five times the local rate if not more.
The Buddhist nuns here also seem to play a much more prominent role than in other Asian cultures.
Here so many men still wear the traditional attire, whereas elsewhere we have been in Asia it is predominately the women who continue the traditions. Last night’s monsoon dinner show us just how versatile those “longyi” wraps the men wear are. As we sat at our outdoor table under the awnings, the skies opened up.
Here so many men still wear the traditional attire, whereas elsewhere we have been in Asia it is predominately the women who continue the traditions. Last night’s monsoon dinner show us just how versatile those “longyi” wraps the men wear are. As we sat at our outdoor table under the awnings, the skies opened up.
Our
little umbrella was no match for the torrential downpour and the one the
restaurant offered soon supplemented it. We managed to finish our meal without
it floating away but eventually relocated to a slightly better protected table
and watched all the men adjust the length of their “skirts” to accommodate the
flood waters under the tables and across the road and footpaths while the women
just became as soaked to the skin as we were. Just as we had laughed our way
through dinner they too giggled their way home and appreciated the cooling and
purifying effect.
Today's visit to 14th century Shwedagon Pagoda, the iconic Budddhist symbol of the nation was serene and calming. It is truly a haven of spirituality and a source of national pride. One cannot help but be moved by the beauty and devotion so obviously enshrined in the site and the people, who have protected, restored and revered it for so long.
Today's visit to 14th century Shwedagon Pagoda, the iconic Budddhist symbol of the nation was serene and calming. It is truly a haven of spirituality and a source of national pride. One cannot help but be moved by the beauty and devotion so obviously enshrined in the site and the people, who have protected, restored and revered it for so long.
How wonderful, thoroughly enjoyed reading and look forward to the next instalment!
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