Myanmar

Feb 27 - March 9

Myanmar

We are in Yangon (formerly Rangoon), Myanmar (formerly Burma), a place I've always wanted to be. A great novel set in Myanmar is Amy Tan's "Saving Fish from Drowning".  The title reflects some of the complexity of this place - a Buddhist fisherman doesn't want to harm the fish, but needs to feed his family. He tells himself that netting the fish is saving them from drowning. I'm immediately struck by the beautiful eyes of the Burmese people.  Their eyes are large and dark and expressive.  I think I finally know what is meant by "liquid" eyes.

The Burmese ethnic group are about 60% of the population and there are myriads of other ethnic groups, so changing the name from Burma to Myanmar makes sense to me.  In some of the remote regions (closed to tourism) there are active ethnic insurgencies against the government. The military government here has been utterly repressive for decades and the country has been isolated from most of the world. But the current military leader saw the economy continuing to sink and has now opened the country to tourism.

Shwedagon Pagoda, Yangon

Reclining Buddha, Yangon

The press is more open than before, but it's not a free press. Aung Sun Soo Kyi, leader of the opposition party and Nobel Peace Prize winner, is no longer under house arrest. Everyone we talk to seems to be waiting for the government to change the constitution so she can be elected president in 2015.  Her photo, and her father's photo, are everywhere, including on T-shirts and in the temples.  Her father led Burma out of British colonization after WWII and was assassinated at age 32. This country has been waiting for a long time.

At the hotel I set my watch a half hour back to correspond to Myanmar time, and we request a 4:30 wake up call so we can catch our flight to Bagan in the morning.  The streets are pretty quiet during the night, but the quiet is punctuated about every hour with startlingly loud and happy shouts or startlingly loud music.  Perhaps people are still celebrating their new freedoms. Our 4:30 wake up call comes at 3:30, but again at 4:30 too.  Our hotel is not inexpensive, as Yangon is growing rapidly and there is a shortage of rooms.  But there is no internet in the rooms.  And laundry service, so inexpensive everywhere else we've been, is so outrageous here that we end up rinsing out our duds and hanging them all over our room when we reach Mandalay. Many places accept US money, so Doug tries to use the crisp new US bills we saved for Myanmar, knowing they didn't want old currency.  It's central bank policy, and they have scrutinizing eyes. A new US ten dollar bill that we think is pristine is rejected due to a pin prick sized black spot that we had to squint to see.

In Yangon, the capital city, I'm struck by how  many people are wearing traditional longyis (sarongs), both men and women, and including our guide Thu. He was an English major in college. Thu has been a monk twice, first as a young novitiate and again as a young man when he meditated three hours per day. He tells us that intense meditation let him move his mind outside of his body and perch it on his shoulder. If you feel a pain in your body while meditating, it simply represents the pain that exists in the world. Thu studied Theraveda Buddhism, based on the original teachings of Buddha.  People walk around pagodas in a clockwise pattern, so their right side is always closest to the temple.

As we are dazzled by the gold and diamonds in the Shwedagon Pagoda Thu tells us that many donors from around the world pay for constant renovations, including the many smaller pagodas that surround the main pagoda.  This earns them merit in this world to help improve their status in their next life.  When Doug asks about this, Thu says that if he had wealth he would earn merit by donating to an orphanage, not a temple. We like him. The Shwedagon Pagoda, like so many others, is believed to hold a relic of Buddha.  Apparently when Buddha (Siddhartha actually, he wasn't the Buddha yet) cut off his hair there was plenty to go around.

Motorcycles are banned in Yangon, which makes crossing the street less hazardous than in other cities.  Our taxi driver says there are two reasons motorcycles are banned - one is public safety, and the second is security. Someone once took a few potshots at one of the military government officials from the back of a motorcycle.  The government has moved out of town to a newly built city, but the motorcycle ban remains.

Refurbished WWII troop transport buses, now used to transport tourists

Truck near the wharf, power transfer via spliced rope

We see a fascinating collection of old trucks, buses and tractors.  I ask Doug if one truck with a single wheel in front and no hood is WWII era.  He shakes his head: "Older." Many of the vehicles have been repaired with materials at hand.  Doug finds a drive belt made from a spliced rope. Our travel agent, based in Hanoi, has booked us on domestic flights to get around - the roads are that bad.  The trains run up to 100% behind schedule, and we see one inching along, with every car jerking sideways in it's own chicken dance.  Once we get out of the cities, we find that oxcarts are still commonly used for farming.

Bagon
After seeing some of the main sights of Yangon (the Shwedagon Pagoda is a highlight) we fly to Bagan. Bagan is in some ways similar to Angkor Wat, full of temples.  But they are not huge centralized structures like those near Angkor, these vary in size and dot the plains of Bagan.  People are living next to them and farming around them, there are that many. Our guide Men Men ("Mee Mee") tells us that when the king converted the populace to Buddhism, anyone with political or commercial aspirations showed his devotion to the king by building a Buddhist temple, as large as he could afford.  Bagan was a prosperous area with a population approaching a million, so there are LOTS of temples. Men Men takes us in the larger temples (our shoes off of course) and we see ancient murals hidden away from the elements.

Temples of Bagan

It's very dry in Bagan.  The rains will start again in April.  There are three seasons of four months each - rainy, summer, and winter.  We're in winter, it's bone dry and about 80 to 85 degrees F.  We take a day trip to Mount Popa, and along the way we see that the road crosses several dry washes.  Men Men says when it rains, you take a bus or taxi to the wash, which is now a significant stream, wade across, and get in another vehicle on the other side.  There are government projects underway to build bridges and irrigation systems, but they are "long range plans", as the Burmese say.  They're not holding their breath for completion. Along the road women are sweeping the sand off the road.  They smile and wave when vehicles pass; they are seeking "donations" from the drivers.  In the temples it's similar.  The steps are covered with people lackadaisically swabbing the steps with bottled water, asking "Donation for cleaning?".  Men Men says if we want to support the temple, put the money in a donation box, not in their hands.  But it demonstrates the poverty and the need that exists here.

Mother and child wearing thanaka, traditional sunscreen made from tree bark

"Long neck" tribal woman, not so common anymore

We've seen enough temples for a while, so we take an afternoon to see Mount Popa.  Actually, the mount is topped by a temple, but at least we see some new territory along the drive.  The temple on Mount Popa is not Buddhist, though there are now several Buddha figures there.  It's dedicated to the ancient Nats, the animist spirits that are still very important to the Burmese people.  The Nats are depicted in human form, but they have the power to bring good luck or bad luck. Men Men, who is a devout Buddhist, takes a moment at the temple to pray to the Nats.  As we are climbing back down from the temple, I see Buddhist monks ascending.  I ask Men Men "Would a monk pray to a Nat?"  "Of course", he replies. "It's perfectly acceptable for anyone to pray to the Nats, as long as you pray to Buddha first." "Do you pray TO Buddha? Or do you simply pray in front of Buddha?"  "You pray to Buddha, he can grant your wishes so it's okay to ask him for specific things".  We are learning that Buddhism is like Christianity or any other religion - the answer you get depends on who you ask.

Boating on the Ayeryawady

After a few nights we ask Men Men to show us a restaurant that won't be full of other tourists.  He complies, Doug and I are the only white faces there. Men Men orders us a traditional dinner and goes on home.  The dinner is plentiful, and plenty baffling.  The waitress speaks enough English to name each dish as she sets it down, but there are eight dishes, and about eighteen different side dishes of condiments to adorn them with. We tuck in, sometimes knowing what we're eating and sometimes not.  It's good, but everything seems to be swimming in grease. We cut the grease with Myanmar beer.

Our personal buffet, traditional Myanmar meal

Next day it's ballooning over Bagan.  We rise early and get picked up at the hotel at 5:30 am.  This is something we've never done before, so we enjoy seeing the field of balloons inflate and start to rise over their baskets.  Our captain Christoph (from Belgium) tells us the basics, including the fact that sometimes the baskets tip over on landing, and this is "perfectly natural".  We climb in, Christoph turns on more gas, we bump the ground a little and we're off. The winds are variable, we get a good look at the Ayeraywady River and the town, but are a bit far from the bulk of the temples.  As we eventually descend, Christoph tells us the winds have picked up a ground level, which he doesn't like. We are getting farther from the designated landing zone. We swing and bump along the ground, and sure enough the basket tips over as we touch ground and we are hanging out sideways.  After we've climbed out and the champagne has been popped, Christoph says "You know how I told you it's natural to tip over?  Well, that never happened before." Lucky us!  We are waiting for the ground crew to find us, but the villagers have already found us.  The T-shirts and sand paintings and longyi sellers are there. Chistoph says they generally beat the ground crew.

Ballooning over Bagan

Local inspectors viewing our "crash" landing

The Road to Mandalay
In Mandalay we are met by a new local guide, Pyu Pyu.  We're amazed at how many English speakers we encounter everywhere in Myanmar. Despite the country's isolation up until 2008, English has been taught in the schools by government mandate.  Even our taxi drivers seem well versed in English, sometimes they have less of an accent than our guides. Mandalay is surrounded by small towns full of ancient temples; the kings had a habit of moving their capitals and their people around, so we see a lot more temples. We also visit a monastery that allows visitors to watch the monks line up for their final meal of the day at noon.  We take a walk on the world's longest wooden bridge, 1.2 kilometers of teak, no vehicles, no handrails. It was built in the early 1800's to cross the lake.

Then it's night. Pyu Pyu and our driver have dropped us at the hotel in Mandalay and told us where to find a place to eat.  We're picking our way along the street. The pavement is awful, there seem to be abandoned construction projects everywhere.  Motorcycles are parked on the few places where the sidewalk is intact. There are holes, drop-offs and piles of rubble everywhere. And why is it so dark?  I look up - Mandalay, the second largest city in the country, has no streetlights, even where the street is given over to the night market. There are goods spread on the road, and shoppers browsing, but there is still traffic coming. Some of the vehicle headlights spread a little light on the road, but not all of them have headlights. (Correction: our guide later points out later that SOME of the streets in Mandalay have lights.) There are a few stoplights, but not nearly enough.  Drivers have somehow figured it out.  When a group of them feel they've been waiting at the intersection long enough, they ease out into cross traffic until it gradually stops and gives them their turn to go.

World's longest wooden bridge, 1.2 kilometers

Next day we take a boat ride up the river. There is no dock, just boat after boat parallel to the shore.  The innermost boat is tied to stakes on the shore, the second boat is moored parallel to the first boat, etc. We cross on planks from boat to boat before we board our boat, the seventh one.  Everyone cooperates. Owner of the inner boats help you across the planks until you get to your boat. We go up river to Mingon to see (what else?) another temple. The ride along the river is breezy and pleasant.  It must be about 85 degrees.  Doug and I are in shirt sleeves enjoying the breeze. The boatman and our guide are wearing sweaters and jackets.  After all, it's winter in Myanmar. Along the river we see lots of vegetable fields and small wooden homes.  Pyu Pyu says that when the water is low families take advantage of the fertile riverside to plant dry season crops.  When the river rises they pick up their homes and move them.

Monks lining up for lunch with their alms bowls

Myanmar monk

Factories in Myanmar
We see several "factories" in Myanmar - silk weaving, lacquer-ware making, gold leaf pounding, black-smithing, silver-smithing, marble carving, boat making, cheroot rolling. But when a guide says we're going to see a "factory", I've learned what to expect. It's generally a modestly sized open air building.  The employees are sitting around like they would be at home, wearing longyis and sitting on the floor on woven floor mats. Men and women work on different tasks in different areas.  Everything we see is hand made. The gold leaf pounding is entirely traditional. Here in Mandalay, all the gold leaf is pounded thin by hand. Three or four strong young men in longyis stand over small pieces of gold pressed between layers of bamboo paper. They rhythmically pound with wooden mallets, over and over and over.  They make about $1 per day.  (Taxi drivers and boatmen make about $3 per day in Myanmar.) Gold leaf is important at the temples. Many Buddha figures are still being covered over and over again with gold leaf pressed on by the faithful.

On the river with Pyu Pyu, our Mandalay guide

Silk weaving piecework, they can do about 2" per day

Pounding gold leaf, for $1 per day

Teak log transport on the river

We visit an ancient teak monastery.  I like the teak monastaries, they're dark inside and it seems cooler than some of the bright marbled and mirrored temples. This one is in a small village, and the monks are teaching school.  It's not a monastery school, however, the boys are not monk novitiates and there are girls in the school.  It looks and sounds like chaos. The kids are on the floor, on the desks, and hanging out the windows.  They are all reciting something they are supposed to be memorizing, but not in harmony with each other.  One by one they approach the monk to recite.  The monk is sprawled in a chair at the front with a switch in his hand (for the flies or the kids?, or maybe both?). Each kid in turn squats low before the monk, puts his or her hands together in a prayerful position and bows their head to the floor.  This is not religion, it's just showing the respect every kid should show a monk. Then they recite.

At school

We learn later that monks have much respect. You are not supposed to put your head above a monk's.  If he is sitting on the floor you should sit lower. They do not pay for transportation.  Monks simply say where they want to go. In the boats, the monks get the front seat, or the highest seat.  On the public bus, you may buy the last first class ticket so you can sit in front.  But if a monk gets on, you are supposed to give him your seat and move to the back. You could end up standing in the back, that's just the way it's done. There are also nuns, wearing pink (yes, pink) robes instead of yellow or burgundy.  The nuns don't generate as much respect; monks don't cook their own food, but nuns and local women cook for the monks. Monks rise at 4:00 am, pray and meditate, then go out seeking alms. "Alms", are generally people putting rice into their black iron pots. The rest of their food is donated to monasteries or bought using donations to monasteries. The monks eat two meals a day, breakfast and lunch. Monks spend a good deal of time studying the dharmas, Buddha's teachings on how to live and pray. They must learn Pali, a language based on Sanskrit that is not spoken anywhere but in temples.

Nun 

Monk getting his head shaved

Village on Lake Inle

Lake Inle

Lake Inle
Lake Inle is a highlight of our Myanmar tour.  The lake is huge and shallow (15 to 20 feet deep). It's surrounded by mountains, and generally cool and breezy, at least in the mornings and evenings. The government has imposed new limits on woodcutting in the mountains, due to erosion silting into the lake. People live in stilt house villages along the shore. Each village has a specialty, i.e. the fishing village, the weaving village, the boatmaking village, the gardening village. The basis of the economy is fishing and gardening in floating gardens. The gardens have to float because the lake levels fluctuate so much with the seasons. The villagers generally start gardens with water hyacinth plants on the bottom layer, because it's so buoyant.  They anchor the floating gardens with long poles stuck into the lake bottom. Over the years they add more plants and silt from the lake bottom, then plant their vegetables. They get six crops a year. This has only been happening since 1967, when a local monk preached against fishing.

Floating gardens staked to the lake bed

Floating gardens

Leg rower

Lake Inle is the home of the "leg rowers". The fishermen stand in the back of their boats, hold the single oar in one hand, and wrap a leg around the oar to power their stroke.  The boats are all made of teak and they're heavy.  Using a leg to row gives them one hand free to handle their fishing nets and baskets.  Doug and I marvel that life along the lake still seems unchanged despite the areas popularity with tourists.  If we come back in ten years we know it will look different.




We see more temples, and it's interesting to ask our new guide Thwin Oo about Buddhism.  He's knowledgeable, but I suspect religion is not a huge part of his life.  He tells us that some of the practices are cultural, not religious, like the prohibition on women approaching the Buddha figure at some of the holiest temples. But there is so much history - the Buddha that most of us think of (Gautama, or Siddhartha before he achieved Nirvana) is the fourth Buddha in this world.  There will be one more.  But there have been at least 28 Buddhas because there have been four previous worlds.  No Buddhist knows or can remember his previous lives, but good Buddhists know all of the 128 former lives of Gautama. The footprint of Buddha is segmented into symbols depicting each form that he took in his previous lives.

Leg Inle leg rower with fishing basket

Doug & Thwin Oo, our guide

I'm a little upset that our lodge, though scenically poised over the water on stilts, is just off the main body of the lake on a canal.  I don't mind the location, just the fact that boats are going past all day long.  These hand made teak boats are long and thin, occupied by people, goods going to market, and piles of lake weeds being hauled to supplement the floating gardens. There are some boats being rowed by the leg rowers, but most of the boats are powered by diesel engines adapted from road vehicles.  The major adaptation seems to be removing the mufflers, and it's noisy here.  After I contact the travel agent and find we can't change our pre-paid resort, Doug says, correctly, that I'll get used to it.  Thwin Oo gives me the appropriate Asian response - only on this canal into Lake Inle does it sound like this.  I'd have to come halfway around the world to hear this again.

Our room on Lake Inle

Thwin Oo gets us up early and into the boat for a ride to the local market in a village situated on a canal near the lake.  There is a complicated schedule governing which village hosts the market each weekday.  This is the most authentic market I've ever seen.  Ninety percent of the goods are spread on mats on the grounds. The hill tribes are here to sell their vegetables and handicrafts.  Thwin Oo says many of them reach the market at dawn, after walking down from the hills for several hours in the dark, carrying their bundles.  The Pao women are dressed in their traditional clothes with red turbans around their heads.  They tolerate tourists, but don't let us get in their way. When Thwin Oo stops in the narrow aisle to tell us what we're looking at, they just shoulder by us. When we return through the market area a few hours later, the market is simply gone. They've rolled up their mats and gone home.

Market near Lake Inle

Pao tribal women at the market

After a day and a half relaxing at our lodge (we're on stilts, so we can't go very far), Thwin Oo picks us up in the boat for the last time.  We take a taxi to the airport in He Ho.  This airport serves the Lake Inle area, so it sees a good amount of use, but we enjoy it's less developed atmosphere.  The terminal building is small. The gates to board your flights are three sliding glass doors, right next to each other, through which you walk onto the tarmac.  There is one runway.  The glass doors are standing open, and the runway is about a hundred and fifty feet from the doors, so we we experience the deafening whoosh of every prop plane that lands and takes off.  The loud speaker for flight announcements is exactly that - someone walks to the front of the waiting area with a hand-held loudspeaker.  In case you miss your flight announcement due to the din, someone else walks around with a hand held sign with the flight number written on it in magic marker. We have boarding passes, but there is no electronic scanning, so they don't know who is boarding and who is not.  Instead, the staff paste colored stickers on the passengers when you check in.  If a flight doesn't have the right number of passengers on board, the staff walk around looking for people still seated in the waiting area who are wearing the sticker for that flight.  We've already experienced two one-hour flight delays on previous legs of our trip due to "fog in Yangon", which is the national hub.  However, Thwin Oo was able to tell us two days prior to our final domestic flight that it would be delayed an hour due to "fog in Yangon", so apparently this is a euphemism for "we don't fly on time".

We return to Yangon, visit the market and a cool contemporary art gallery, and see another temple which has, of course, a hair of the Buddha. We walk around downtown to see the old British colonial buildings and we stop and the historic (Kipling to Mick Jagger) Strand Hotel for a drink in the bar.

Buddhas in Bagan

Ancient mural of Buddha

Gardeners near Lake Inle

Ox carts are still used in farming