Yangon

Late last night I arrived in Yangon, the old capital of Burma. My journey was not so comfortable with a delayed flight, missed meal, some pain, and the tail end of a virus. However, there is a comforting efficiency and calm friendliness that makes everything work out well here. A friendly taxi driver whisked me to the hotel and pointed out all of the interesting landmarks on the way.

The hotel is quaint, clean and downtown and the counter staff go out of their way to serve. I was settled in no time, with a map, a schedule of services and a nice bottle of water! The restaurant at the hotel had closed but I was told there were two restaurants a block away so off I set late in the night. I had no trouble finding the restaurants but was a bit surprised to find them out on the busy sidewalk! I asked for a table and was asked to share with two locals, both chain smokers. This was a severe test of my ability to detach and you would be surprised. I smiled beatifically as I ordered minced fish ball soup, terror biting at my very soul. The bowl arrived and I recognized most of the ingredients. I said a little prayer and hoped that the soup had boiled for a long time as I saw tiny little quail eggs, egg white, assembled fish ingredients, all excellent hosts of bacteria! It was delicious. I had made the error of asking to wash my hands and was shown into the area where dishes were washed. I should not have gone there. However, it is now the following morning and I have survived!

I have already toured The Strand, Sule Pagoda, Indiatown, Chinatown and the local market. This is an extraordinary place, teeming with life and energy. I am charmed by the easygoing nature of Yangonians(!) and have enjoyed the hustle and bustle of downtown. It consumes energy though, and I must measure mine out carefully. The streets feel completely safe, just as all other Myanmar locations have felt. The colonial architecture, now much neglected, remains and a renaissance seems possible, even probable. The proximity of food stalls and sewers, the profane and the divine, is challenging to the senses. Five million people are thriving here so it will all work out.

Temple of pigeons!

A Dream Experience in Bagan

Bagan, a very small, dusty town, sits on the edge of the Irrawaddy, a few square miles of land on an arid plain in the middle of Myanmar.  That is the ordinary part. The extraordinary part is that it is literally filled with temples and pagodas all built between 1000 and 1200 CE. It is said that there were once 10 000 temples and it is easy to believe this claim. What remains though is the greatest collection of Buddhist architecture that exists on the planet. Wherever the eye wanders, there are ancient buildings piercing the blue sky. As soon as one climbs up high on a building, this dreamlike landscape of devotion and art comes into view. As far as the eye can see, the magnificent architectural achievements of a long ago time thrill the mind and the heart. A great empire existed here while Europe was still struggling through a very dark period and before the stones of the first cathedrals were stacked.

One glimpses a period when the great religions of India swept off the northern plains of the Ganges and took root elsewhere. There is one remaining Hindu temple built in the late 900s, a precursor of great ideas to come. The teachings of the Bhudda were warmly welcomed and great tributes were built in his name. Architects and artists must have come from near and far to make amazing innovations in building techniques and recount in a myriad of ways the life and teaching of the Enlightened One.

Time, end of empire and earthquakes have done a great deal of damage to the structures. Reconstruction, of varying quality, has kept many of the buildings safe and usable. So the modern day visitor can wander from temple to temple filled with awe and wonder, seeking out the high points in antiquity and worship. As I wandered, I could hear guides telling all kinds of stories to their audiences. In some instances, the information was clearly wrong, but does it matter? Visitors come from all over the world to spend time here. I saw many local people walking through the temples as well.

This evening, I will leave this extraordinary place but I will never forget it.

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By boat from Mandalay to Bagan

Early morning rising after a sleepless night and a short taxi ride to the jetty. Passengers are all huddled in the darkness to check in for the boat at 6.30 am, to launch at 7 am precisely. First light appears as we wait and the misty dawn permits glimpses of boats, bank, daily life on the water, temples after temples. We pass under two bridges as we leave Mandalay, both bearing scarce road traffic. The river is enormous and wide.

We settle in for the long voyage. Breakfast is served, nescafé or tea, a boiled egg, two slices of bread with margarine and jam! Delicious! 

We have comfortable assigned seats in the inside cabin, probably a hundred passengers, full boat today, and there are many extra seats on two upper decks for fresh air. It is amazing how cool it is outside, for hours. I don a sweater for the first time in ages. I wear the sweater inside the main cabin!

There is lots of time to meditate, read, gaze, ponder. The river is wide, with high sand banks all along. At one point, we had two men sitting up front with long sticks guiding us over a sandbar. We made it across unimpeded and not delayed.

We see many rafts of piled bamboo sticks tethered together as platforms.   The larger settlements along the way on either bank are peppered with temples. The boat takes the long route! We always travel from high bank to next high bank, looking for the deeper water. As we proceed, the water smoothens as the elevation change lessens. There is not a single bridge between Mandalay and Bagan.

The journey takes twelve hours. No reason is given for the extra three hours! Perhaps the water is low and speed must be reduced. 

Tourism in Myanmar

The world is not yet flocking to Myanmar and the tourism industry is clearly in its infancy. It is clear for all to see that there are few if any services available yet in many places. 

The contrast with Thailand, north, south, east and west, is complete. There, every imagined need can be satisfied. Tourists are everywhere, and in many places are the only economy. In Myanmar, one rarely sees congregations of foreigners. Temples, if crowded,  are crowded with local people. Restaurants are patronized by local people.

When Cambodia opened up for tourism, in the 1990s,  after its destructive civil war, a brutal  genocide and invasion, there was an enormous explosion of tourist infrastructure. One does not see this yet in Myanmar, despite the current ease of entering the country. 

While at times this lack of infrastructure leads to discomfort, for example when one needs to go to the bathroom, overall  it is so refreshing. The country appears lost in time. Locked into a time warp by a military regime in 1962, time has stood still. The infrastructure has simply not been built. Roads don't exist or are in ill repair. Train service is from another era. The river is the easiest way to travel. Poverty is visible everywhere.

What will the future bring?  Is it inevitable that industries will quickly emerge to satisfy every whim of the tourist?  Will the open friendliness of the people become open caginess? Will every interaction be with a tout? Who knows. For now it is an extraordinary experience to be in, and to move around in, this amazing society.

Magic and Mystery in Mandalay

Here at last, in Mandalay. My first impressions are of being somewhere really different.

The people look different. Their faces, clothing and lived environment are quite different from the rest of South East Asia. I am more reminded of India as I move around. 

The streets of Mandalay are busy and dirty and  buildings are generally drab and unkempt. The sidewalks are cluttered with shelters, furniture and goods. The roadsides are just dirt and gravel. Most traffic is scooters and bicycles. Cars have steering wheels on the right but also drive on the right. I have never seen this before. Negotiating through traffic is therefore difficult. In the absence of traffic lights, vehicles just move into the junction and claim a passage through. There is no squabbling. Horns toot, often for no apparent reason, another Indian reminder.

The friendliness of the people appears genuine. They shout out greetings and only expect greetings back. Often, people want to engage in conversation and yet they are not touts. It is delightful.

Almost all men and women, young and old,  wear longyis, the distinctive lower garment. It is tied in such a way that walking, running, squatting, etc. are all accomplished with ease. Men wear a checkered cloth, women wear all colours and patterns. Women are as publicly visible as men and are not shy to smile. They often have thanata, a yellow skin cream made from the bark and wood of a local tree, as sun protection on the cheeks.

Poverty is highly visible. One can frequently see people living in shacks made of tarps and cloth by the side of the road. There is a sprinkling of beggars but they are not aggressive at all. Homeless people sleep on benches and on the ground. 

Despite the poverty, goods are available everywhere. The public market is busy and very crowded. There is nothing one cannot buy! The highest profile businesses and the most glossy sell technology. Obviously there is a revolution under foot. Internet is widely available and cell phones are ubiquitous. Scooter operators easily operate phones on the go! People all seem busy and involved. 

Factories, large and small, but mostly small, are integrated with the city housing. Small printing presses, mills, pharmaceutical production, mechanics, gyms, streetside restaurants and carts all mix together and create a sense of energy and purpose. It is still the cooler season in February and activity does not wane in the heat of the day.

There is a beautiful coolness in the mornings. Many people, again both men and women, exercise by walking briskly in the morning. There is a whole hour of coolness before the sun heats up!

This is a unique and fascinating place to be!

I am in heaven

Don't be alarmed. The world is perfect as it is.

This weekend is the Chiang Mai Flower Festival. As winter loosens its tenuous grip on this beautiful place, I find myself in heaven. I do need to let you know there is a definite absence of vestal virgins so please spread the word to terrorists. Heaven is quite simply an orchid place.

This morning I attended a transformative yin yoga class given by an Irish yoga teacher. We will remember that in recent history an internecine war killed more than 3000 people there and yet a beautiful and passionate yoga teacher can emerge from there. At the end of class he asked us to connect with one other person and discuss conflict in one's life and how we might move to a happier place in difficult relationships. I chatted with another Irish yogi who confessed that his most difficult relationships were with his five siblings. After I listened carefully, I asked him to do his best to forget all that history and when he is with any of his siblings, just accept who they are, do not try to change them, and keep the meetings very short!

We only had a few moments but there was no need for me to talk of my own experience. I hate no one. I love everyone and everything. The world is perfect as it is. This is how we find it today. There is only this moment.  Peace and love to all.

What is happening?

My days fly by. I wake always well before dawn. I have some time for quiet contemplation before others become active. Most mornings I run as soon as there is enough light. I also attend yoga classes and meditate. The city of Chiang Mai is bursting with temples - more than 200 in the city itself.

Most days I also set out on foot to explore the city. There are surprises around every corner. The markets are ubiquitous and one wonders how any of the sellers can make a living, given that hundreds of people are selling exactly the same 'things'. There are morning and night markets in addition to 'any time' markets. There are restaurants everywhere too and the food of course is delicious. The speed of cooking, combined with a diversity of fresh produce year round and a courageous and creative use of spices, herbs  and coconut all conspire to create one of the world's most exciting cuisines. All other cuisines are also available.

Today, I decided to rent a bicycle. It took about 30 seconds to make the arrangements. Off I set on my trusty steed. I had noticed lots of people riding around, without helmets, in daylight and in the dark, and had serious reservations about the danger involved, given that roads can be insanely busy at certain times of day. However, I worked up my courage, arranged the seat at an unusually high spot to create space for legs, and launched into traffic. I soon discovered the cardinal rule for cycling here is to completely ignore what is happening behind you. Secondly, if one sees space, one moves towards it. There is nothing more to know. One can do left and right turns with gay abandon or just simply forge straight ahead, working one's way around all obstacles. It feels amazingly safe. The Thai tradition of reverence for the head (which must never be touched) presumably discourages them from crushing heads under vehicles. There is no other explanation for the careful progress of vehicles caught behind bicycles. One cannot forge ahead until the way is clear. There is no gunning of engines, no threats of swift movement and no ugly gestures. It's like a dignified path through life. Be kind to all.

However, surprises come from nowhere. When I was very far from base, I noticed the left pedal starting to become very independent. It would not engage when it was at the highest point in the cycle but would then flop forward a quarter circle in a most alarming way. I continued my progress hoping that nothing untoward would spoil my perfect journey.  As I manoeuvred through a particularly busy junction, while doing the dreaded right turn across a very busy and fast highway, the left pedal was quite suddenly not there and my left leg flailed helplessly in midair. I heard a clatter of course and found a way to get back to retrieve the nuisance pedal. I know little about bicycles and how they are put together. I do fear their anomalies however, such as screwing tight in the wrong direction and the danger of stripping threads. But I had no choice. I needed to reattach the pedal if I was to avoid walking a very long way home. I did finally get it attached, with only bare hands (by now black) as tools, only to discover that both pedals were now facing in the same direction. Back to the drawing board, and a swift hand tightening of the offending bolt, and I was on my way again, looking more like a duck with one malfunctioning wing than the smooth worldly operator of a two wheeled vehicle.

I limped to a bicycle store that I had spied earlier, and where envy had surfaced as I saw beautiful bicycles rather like the ones all of my athletic friends ride. A young man took pity on me and quickly tightened the bolt with a wrench that was longer and newer than any I have ever seen. When I offered payment I got the kind of smile that makes one weep. I muttered my thanks in appalling Thai, wiped away my tears in manly style, and rode as fast as I could back to my abode. The pedal was quickly becoming loose as I rode so I asked the owners not to rent it out again as it really was a hazard. I doubt that my admonition will make any difference but it is important to try.

Apart from the obvious excitement of such an expedition, I now have a good route identified for my next very long run. I also know where I can go for a refreshing swim after it. Life is so good, so rich, so precious.  Carpe diem!

Peace and love, Nigel