Myanmar

From Burma to Myanmar

Travels in an Awakening Land

JANUARY / FEBRUARY 2013

[Kenneth Alan Collins Last revision: 03/06/2013]

For years I have wanted to visit Burma, the country that in the late 1980’s was renamed Myanmar by the oppressive military dictatorship that had governed the country for decades, and largely isolated and insulated it. Most of us, wanting to be politically correct, continued to call it Burma, as did the U.S. State Department, the New York Times, and countless other “official” sources. Over the years, I have so wanted to visit this ancient land, but was conflicted about whether traveling there would constitute support of a really awful, corrupt, brutal cabal of generals. There were arguments on both sides of the ethical divide, some saying that any money spent in Burma would ultimately support its miserable government, and others maintaining that if you traveled simply and did not ride the trains, or stay in big hotels owned by various criminals affiliated with the government, you would actually be helping the local populace, which desperately needed any extra help it could get. I stayed on the fence.

And then, in late 2011, under the present head of government, some major liberalizations were undertaken and continued throughout 2012. While the country is by no means a democratic gold standard, it has changed a lot in a short time. Not only has the political system loosened up considerably but the country is opening outward economically and socially, and global investment is growing rapidly (with all the downsides that that is likely to bring as well as the positives).

Hence in early 2012, I decided that the time had finally come for David, my life partner, and me to visit, and if we didn’t make it our destination for our next mid-winter warm-weather trip in January 2013, the country would be overrun with visitors.

Many Americans do not recognize the name Myanmar when I say we made a trip there, because the name has been so little used in the U.S. What we discovered was that this is a name that most citizens of the country are okay with, because Burma refers to the major ethnic group in the country, but there are approximately 200 other ethnic groups or tribes, and the name Myanmar is more inclusive of such appreciable ethnic minorities as the Shans, Kachins, Karins, and Mons, along with many others, than Burma conveys. So we became comfortable with the “new” name, which is also used as the adjectival form (e.g., Myanmar traditions, or Myanma traditions). Many place names have also reverted to their original (i.e., pre-British colonial period) names, thus, Rangoon, the largest city, is now Yangon, Pagan is Bagan, Pegu is now Bago, and the great Irrawaddy River is now the Ayeyarwady River (actually Ayeyarwady means “Big River” so adding “river” is redundant).

We were not a minute too soon in going there, and very likely, a bit too late, because already at the beginning of 2013, tourism by Westerners, Japanese, and even some Chinese, was exploding. The increase in foreign visitation has been so great and so sudden, that hotel rooms are in short supply, despite a building boom - this was the first country I have traveled in where it was necessary to call ahead to cities we were going to to line up a room reservation. I am not used to doing this in Asia, South America, or even in Europe, but we discovered it was a really good idea on this trip. Further indication of the explosive nature of recent changes is that in the last 12 – 18 months, the government has permitted the importation of automobiles for private sale, and observers say that this has, practically overnight, led to traffic jams, previously unknown, in the big cities (namely, Yangon, formerly Rangoon, and Mandalay). In fact, until a short time ago, there was practically no motorized traffic to be seen, except for diesel-spewing motorbikes.

Myanmar is an intensely Buddhist country, perhaps the most devoutly Buddhist in the world (with perhaps the exception of Tibet). It does have a very significant Muslim component, as well as Christians and Hindus, and one sees temples and churches representing all these religions. For a Westerner, it remains somewhat exotic to see Buddhist monks (dressed in maroon, unlike Thai Buddhist monks, who wear saffron-colored robes) and nuns (in pink robes) walking down city streets with their rice bowls and/or alms bowls – either singly or in a line – as part of the everyday street scene. In the morning they would stop at shops to be given some food (sometimes just a spoonful of uncooked rice). Novitiate nuns, perhaps no older than 10 or 11, with shaved heads (at first I thought they were boys!), singing a sing-song begging request as they moved from doorstep to doorstep, became a normal sight. Another interesting aspect of Buddhist religious behavior is earning “credits” by being kind to fellow creatures. At one temple complex, a woman was selling birds caged in a half-domed cage of woven twigs. A young woman “bought” three birds and immediately released them – by doing so, she gained merit for the next life.

As a poor Third World country, it is always interesting and quite disturbing to observe the wholesale manner in Western technology is adopted, because it has happened so quickly that the benefits are definitely weighed down by the negatives. A few examples. Packaging, once simply done and always of natural materials (large leaves for wrapping) is now all plastic, and one sees piles everywhere of discarded plastic bags and containers, looking very gross. Intercity buses now sport large flat-screen TVs above the driver, and accompanying speakers strung every few meters along where the overhead luggage racks run. So now long-haul buses play, without interruption, soupy Myanmar pop song pap and stupid soap operas, and there is no escaping them (except, thank goodness, I can’t understand Burmese). Air pollution is severe in the major cities and the sky is rarely a real blue. Yangon, a city of over 4,000,000, has banned diesel motorbikes, but even so, is fairly polluted. Mandalay, the second largest city is swamped with motorbikes, and they definitely make the air there very bad. Sidewalks are, without doubt, one of the world’s most challenging obstacle courses – when not totally blocked by parked motorbikes, they are grossly uneven, and often large pieces of paving are entirely missing, and if you do not pay attention, you’ll fall into the open sewage trenches just under the sidewalk. Most of the time, the path of least resistance is to just walk in the street and hope no one on a vehicle of some kind hits you.

It is also important to bear in mind that the populace has very few rights and protections, as we understand them. David, in his own brief write-up on our trip to Myanmar, focuses on our bus trip from Mandalay to Hsipaw, in which the driver hit a young boy on a bicycle and did not so much as slow down. Very likely there were serious injuries, perhaps death. It was very unsettling. As little justice as we may feel exists in the U.S., people at least have the sense they can demand wrongs be righted, even if they are not. In Myanmar, we heard tales of peasant farmers not having any title to their land and being driven off at the whim of the landlord, often a corrupt government official who has become rich by virtue of his position. As previously mentioned, sidewalks are little more than dangerous obstacle courses – if you fell into the sewage exposed where the pavement should be, that is your problem – lots of luck suing anyone. In short, some of the basic protections, large and small, we take for granted in the U.S. appear to be non-existent, unknown – call it what you will – in Myanmar.

So, yes, this is definitely the Third World. But it is important to mention that there were many positive delights. Most notable was the seeming unceasing kindness of the Myanmar people. The smiles, the unforced politeness and friendliness, the honesty (e.g., finding a Westerner’s cell phone left behind, and running up to return it to whoever it was who apparently left it behind), the gentleness, were truly startling, especially to an American who can easily see many acts of extreme aggressiveness at home in the course of everyday interactions. It takes some getting used to to enter a bank branch to change U.S. dollars into Myanmar kyats (pronounced “chats”) and have 10 guards and bank employees waiting at the front door and politely bowing to you in greeting. It might seem like obsequiousness, but after a while, one perceives that there is a deep self-confidence that underlies such behavior.

One pleasant surprise was that the climate, overall, was quite pleasant. Of course, January and early February represent the coolest, driest period of the year, but anyone who has been in relatively nearby Bangkok, with its suffocating humidity, even in January, will instantly appreciate how much more comfortable the climate in Myanmar is. In fact, in the mountain foothills, places like Hsipaw and Inle Lake were decidedly chilly at night, and it was essential to have some warm clothes for the early morning hours.

Sometimes it is with a bit of amazement that I realize Westerners – in this case, the British – conquered and colonized a country like Myanmar (not until the mid-19^th century) – Westerners in a Southeast Asia setting always look so physically unattractive and unhealthy, compared to the lithe, fine-featured Burmese and other ethnic peoples of this country. Westerners so often lacked a smoothness of body language, often had flushed faces or were bright-red sunburned. Whereas despite the craziness of a Myanmar town’s streets, the local people walked with grace (even when women were carrying heavy loads in baskets on their heads), Westerners moved liked an ancient jalopy that shook, pitched, and lurched along the way. And we almost never saw any local who was overweight. Westerners did not seem to exemplify the “survival of the fittest.”

Which brings up another interesting point. The basic diet in Myanmar (as in most Asian countries) is so much healthier than a Western diet, particularly our junk food / snack food / processed food / desert laden diet. We each came back weighing 8 pounds less, and most of it was due to eating less (once you start eating less, your stomach adapts and you need less) and eating healthy. Whether eating a typical Myanmar dinner, or Chinese or Thai food, most dishes were a mix of a tiny bit of meat, cubed, with lots of vegetables, sauces, and rice. We virtually never snacked, ate pastries or other junk food, and if we were served “desert” it was typically whole or cut-up fruit. As soon as we got back to the U.S., we were indulging in cakes and pies, eating more, and watching our weight begin its climb back to what it had been before we departed.

While most of the important sights to see are religious – usually large Buddhist temple complexes, the British colonial buildings in Yangon are well-worth seeing, a few museums (usually dimly lit and not very well signed) contain objects that deepen and amplify one’s understanding of the local culture. But a real pleasure of Myanmar was just walking the streets or taking a city bus or bicycling (bicycles can be rented almost everywhere for less than $2/day). As with many Third World countries where life today has not changed that much from life hundreds of years ago, one sees a world that disappeared in the West many decades, if not centuries, ago. In a warm climate, life moves easily back and forth from indoors to outdoors. It is easy to spot craftsmen (and women) working away right on the street. No one seems to mind your bending over their shoulder to get a better look.

The Burmese (and some other ethnic groups) put a beige paste on their cheeks – women, children, and teenagers. It is a paste made of the bark of the thanaka tree and used both as a cosmetic and because it is thought to protect the tender skin from sun damage. Occasionally, the paste is applied in a stencil-like manner, so that a beautiful leaf design results. It is one of the most characteristic sights in Myanmar and to the best of my knowledge, not seen in any other Southeast Asian country.

There are many fine crafts to be seen in Myanmar, notably, bamboo basket weaving, lacquer ware, stone- and wood-carving, gold-working, and weaving with lotus thread and silk. What is particularly striking about the lovely craft products found in the country is that the workshops where they are made are comparable to what one might have seen in the West 200 years ago. Simple buildings with earthen floors (or sometimes on stilts over water), and ingenious tools mostly fashioned out of natural products. And yet, following time-honored techniques and a very non-hi-tech collection of implements, gorgeous, sophisticated objects, made to delight the eye, emerge. In very similar settings we observed the making of cheroots (the classic very small cigar popular in Myanmar), or watched a village blacksmith’s working his simple forge under a wooden ramada.

An observation I have made traveling in other Third World countries applies here as well, though it is in no way specific to Myanmar. As budget travelers getting around on public transportation, eating in simple restaurants, and staying in the kind of basic hotels known universally as backpacker hotels (indeed, we did travel with a small backpack each, plus one modest handbag, which is the most practical way to get around), we mainly mixed with young Western travelers, mostly in their 20’s, who were often doing phenomenal trips and made us feel like the most ordinary of plain-vanilla travelers. There was the young French ER doctor who was with Médecins Sans Frontières (Doctors Without Borders) – we met him in Hspiaw – he bought the best multi-gear bicycle he could find in Yangon and was bicycling throughout Myanmar (Hsipaw is almost 500 miles from Yangon). There was a youngish-looking Italian couple we befriended, meeting up with them in several cities, who began in July 2012 traveling overland from Italy along the ancient Silk Route, and were exploring much of Southeast Asia, still having almost 5 months to go. There was a young English couple – he a carpenter about 25 – who were going to be “on the road” for 2 years. And so it kept going – fascinating stories of stupendous travels, often filled with minor horror tales, but with no slackening of enthusiasm to see the world. Our spending 4 weeks in Myanmar constituting our entire trip seemed quite puny in comparison with these adventurous souls.

Of course, there are great sights to see in Myanmar. Given the strength and pervasiveness of Buddhism, there is a wealth of great temples. Many of the most famous date only to the middle of the 19^th century, but that was a period of extensive royal support for building stupas, pagodas and entire complexes with a main temple, smaller temples, and ancillary structures. The best place to see truly ancient temples is Bagan, where over two thousand temples spread across 25 square miles of plains. These temples – which ought to have a UNESCO World Heritage Site designation (the word is that it is coming very soon) - largely date from the 1000’s to the 1300’s and are magnificent indeed. Some have bas-reliefs and/or interior frescoes that clearly show the influence of Indian (i.e., Hindu) artistic styles of that early period.

There is an interesting divergence between Western preservationists and local Buddhists seeking merit, as well as Myanmar archeologists, which has been playing out in recent years. Westerners tend to use careful analysis, scholarly research, advanced technology, to eke out all the details of what is missing in ancient structures, and to do minimal restoration (much less “renovation”), rather focusing on preventing further deterioration and strengthening what remains. The Myanmar approach is different – Buddhists, understandably treat even ancient temples, despite being in an advanced state of decay, as sacred, and their approach is not to worry too much about scholarly exactitude, but rather to modernize such buildings and make them worthy of a place of prayer, meditation, etc. Wealthy Buddhists also want to contribute to “fixing up” deteriorated temples to gain merit for a better next life – one sees tablets at many of the Bagan temples indicating that so and so made the restoration possible through the funds he contributed. Thus there has been quite a bit of what is loosely called “restoration” and this has created tension with Western experts, who also more or less run the UNESCO program. Some of the delay in World Heritage status designation results from this inevitable difference in approach.

While temple sites constituted a major component of our travels in Myanmar, there were a few other things we did that I will remember fondly:

· One goes to Hsipaw to “trek” with guides to explore life in the surrounding countryside – we did two trips there, one where we were the guide’s only customers, and got to explore Shan village life and walk through the surrounding forests and fields, observing everyday life, sipping tea and simple sweets with local folks, passing Nat shrines and unpretentious monasteries preparing for the next full moon festival; memorable was a climb to a hilltop monastery that brought out fresh cut pineapple from a nearby field that turned out to be the most delicious pineapple I have ever eaten;

· In Bago, we spent a morning just strolling along the chaotic main street and smaller lanes feeding into it – the press of life, the variety of people, from very young children to old ladies going places on trishaws, the bicycles precariously loaded with a 10-foot high pyramid of goods, the teahouses filled with busily-conversing men and the news stores with customers poring over magazines, the daily market in full swing, gave us a taste of ordinary life not at all geared to our needs as tourists;

· In Ngwe Saung, a tranquil beach town on the Bay of Bengal where we slowed down for a few days at the end of our trip, we watched fisherman throwing nets to harvest shellfish, ponies being led past us at sunset with tinkling bells creating soft melodic sounds, and women with baskets of goods on their heads walking in a line right at the edge of the breaking waves;

Ladies with baskets of goods on their head, Ngwe Saung beach (Bay of Bengal), Sunset

· Perhaps most fascinating, we took the 3-hour Circuit Line train out of the main Yangon railroad station, making a big loop out into the suburbs and then the farms in the countryside and back into the city center, observing the changing flow of passengers at the various stops along the way, market goods being dragged into and out of our car, a lady selling watermelon slices (carrying it all on her head) and the betel leaf vendor setting up customers with all the elements to properly chew leaves and nuts – we just sat (or occasionally hung out a doorway) as the pulse of life passed us outside and ebbed and flowed into our primitive wooden car.

Watermelon lady on the Circuit Line, Yangon

One aspect of existence outside the West that has always appealed to me was exemplified, in spades, in Myanmar. We in the U.S. are so committed to economic productivity and efficiency - we use countless tools, instruments, policies and procedures, to measure everything down to the last nano-unit of precision. Nothing could be further from the Myanmar approach. An example that summed it all for me was renting a bicycle. Rental was by the day, which went undefined, only being limited by closing time of the shop (typically after dark). Occasionally one could negotiate half-price for a half-day rental, but this was never defined, no one was measuring elapsed hours down to the minute as happens here. If you rented a bicycle for half a day and brought it back at 2:30 or 3:00 that was as good as bringing it back at 12 noon. Personal interactions determined the terms of so many “business”-like arrangements – it was not governed by automated systems that control so much of our lives in the U.S. It was a very refreshing change.

In exploring a country like Myanmar, you basically have to take the good with the bad, the discomforts with the countless moments of beauty, exoticism, and charm. If you are able to do that, then the experience becomes akin to experiencing the 1001 Arabian nights! Almost every moment brings sights, sounds and smells one would never come across at home.