Spent the morning packing and organizing… Our flight from Bagan was originally supposed to leave at 5:40 pm, but we received an email from Golden Myanmar Airlines (about a week ago) telling us that the flight time had changed and would now leave at 4:30. So we figured we should get there early since we had no idea about the layout of the Bagan Airport or the procedures for checking in and checking baggage (we’ve given up on doing it all as carry-on for the return trip, so that we can have room for gifts). So we got a taxi at 2:00… (Taxi driver asked where we were from.. “America” and then he asked where, so we said California.. And then he said something we didn’t understand and he kept repeating it. Finally we realized he was saying “Schwarzenegger.” Mmmmmmm….. interesting.

We got to the airport more quickly than we had imagined so at 2:30 we were sitting on a few hard benches, along with several other folks. The Golden Myanmar desk was still closed, as were all the other airlines.. So all of the passengers sat around and waited.. At about 3:30 someone came to the check-in desk (along with other people who opened the check-in desks for assorted other local airlines). Clearly the Burmese are better at being NYers than we NYers.. as they managed to get ahead of us very quickly, without us even noticing. It also appears that monks get preferential treatment and they just go to the front of the line.

Then we were told that the plane was late so that the original time for the flight was now correct!

Anyway, we checked in, checked luggage (hoping for the best) and were given our little circle “stickers” to put on our chest.. This way, all airline personnel know which passengers are going to what city and on what carrier… sort of like being luggage. It’s all color-coded. We were the orange group with “RGN” (Rangoon, former name of Yangon) handwritten. After a while we got tired of waiting on the hard benches.. all of us facing forward (not too conversational), so we, along with some others, decided to go on thru Security and to the gate. That was simple, although everyone goes through hand screening. Then we were on the other side and everyone – regardless of the color sticker – is then sitting (again facing forward) in a large waiting area painted bubble gum pink.

Occasionally the loudspeaker announces something in Burmese and also supposedly in English, but it was very difficult to hear or understand. After standing up and moving toward the door twice and being told that our color was not going yet, finally it was our turn… to take the old rickety bus on the tarmac to get to the small plane. Again, monks went first. The plane was “open seating.” It was sort of like our Bombadier models but the body of the plane is much lower to the ground and the wheels are smaller and fatter.

Boarded and arrived in Yangon to begin our very messy return to California.

The Savoy (where we stayed two weeks ago) was not available, so we are staying in some very large hotel called the Kandawgyi Palace. It’s fancy with four restaurants, and definitely more Las Vegas than we would like. But it’s convenient and actually less expensive than the boutique-y Savoy. No real character, but large rooms, great bathrooms, and excellent television reception and WiFi (as compared to Bagan).

We had planned to eat at a small French restaurant we heard about while we were here before, but by the time we got to the hotel it was after 8 and we opted to just eat at one of their four restaurants. We figured it was safe food-wise to order some sashimi (we shall see)… and we started with this street food dish that we had seen over and again here in Bagan, but were a little nervous about trying on the street (after surveying the lack of hygiene, dicey water, etc.) – “Mont Lin May Ar” – which they say is translated as “husband and wife snacks.” They are great… From what we saw as to making them on the street.. they use pans that are like tiny muffin pans (very tiny “wells” for the ingredients).. They put in dollops of some kind of rice flour batter and put that into the large sizzling cast iron pan with the muffin holes. Then they add all sorts of toppings like quail eggs (which they put on everything), scallions, roasted chickpeas, diced prawns, etc.. and then they either served them open faced or join the two halves together.. hence, I assume the term “husband and wife.”

Now we’re heading to bed and bracing ourselves for tomorrow which will be a 42 hour day… and that’s just once we get going with travel… (We hang out here in Yangon.. maybe strolling, but maybe just sitting in the lobby (or sleeping in the lobby)… our flight to Narita, Japan is at 10 pm; we have to vacate the room at 1:00.. and leave for the airport at around 7.. so we have 6 hours before going to the Yangon Airport… Then it’s a 7-hour flight to Narita and we arrive around 6:30 am (Tuesday)… Then we have to hang out at the Narita Airport until 5:30 pm for our flight to LAX.. (but always lots to window shop at Narita) then 10 hours to arrive at LAX at around 10:45 am, same day…  go through customs and board a smaller plane to SFO at 1:45pm. I’ve tried in vain to get United to re-book us on the direct flight to SFO.. but no luck. Oh, they could do it if I paid an extra $7,000!!! We’re in Business Class… so this would be a totally new booking. Stuck with the LAX detour.

That’s it.. See you stateside. No more news from me, unless something really exciting happens between now and then.

Best — Fern

Set out this morning for the main market in Nyaung U (Bagan has three distinct areas — New Bagan (which isn’t very new), Old Bagan (which is where we are staying), and Nyaung U..  Nyaung U is the administrative center of Bagan and where the airport is located, as well as a lot of hustle and bustle. Frankly, the three areas blend seamlessly into one another and I’m not certain I could say what makes each different. We thought Old Bagan would have all the pagodas and temples but the temples are everywhere… You stumble on them as you drive or walk; they are situated far from the roads and also right on the road (sometimes without any demarcation); they are large and they are small. Some are considered very “important” and others less so. We stuck mostly to the “less important” ones since they didn’t have any crowds, no buses, no one there… just us. And we favored the less adorned ones – all brick and covered with cement or gild.

Anyway, the market was right up there with the best of them. Huge, sprawling, teeny stalls – some with tent like covering; others completely open, vendors all sitting cross-legged on the floor. People shopping for every conceivable kind of food and going about their daily chores. Some tourists (all with iPhones snapping away). Lots of vendors selling textiles, longyis, lacquerware… but the majority of the market is fruits, vegetables, flowers, spices, meat, fish. And of course there are little places to sit on tiny stools to have noodles or other fare. (We are trying to stay away from street food, but not totally successful, in an effort to stay clear of stomach issues now and when we return. We are however eating freely at tiny “restaurants” which are probably on par with the street food guys.)

We bought a few small items to bring home, and then headed for more pagodas. Whenever we pay for a purchase they say “Lucky money, lucky money” and then take the bills (kyat) and dust them over all the goods in their little stall, repeating over and again “Lucky money.”  I always thought this was done with the money from the first sale of the day… so perhaps in each occasion we were the first sale. Or maybe they just want extra luck for their sales for the day. My grandfather (who immigrated from Romania in the early years of the 20^th Century, had a small men’s clothing store in Brooklyn. He, too, as a shopkeeper, was superstitious. Toward the end of each day he would “close out” the register and bundle up the cash from sales, and then sales after that time were considered as sales for the following day. In this way, he always started out the day with a sale already completed. And he had a cash register that kept a running total of his sales, but he kept that covered up with tape – believing that if you watched the totals it would bring bad luck.  Different cultures, different customs — same end point.

We were planning to have lunch at a restaurant called Xanadu, but as we drove up to this very high end hotel, we realized that the new (2005) very controversial “tower” (200’) sits right at the edge of, or maybe on, the hotel property. The tower was built by the former military government as they considered increasing and attracting tourists. But it sits amid many sacred temples. It was intended to give visiting dignitaries and well-heeled tourists spectacular views of the temples and all of Bagan. It was commissioned by a Burmese tycoon. Preservationists (and environmentalists) were outraged from the start, but locals could not voice opposition. Some say that because of this tower (and also some shoddy reconstruction work on damaged temples), Bagan will not achieve its much desired UNESCO World Heritage status, but from what we’ve read, it seems as though, despite UNESCO’s harsh words about the tower, the status will be forthcoming soon. Anyway, once we realized the hotel and the tower were connected (or so we think), we decided to have the taxi turn around and we ate lunch elsewhere (excellent Shan noodles with chicken and lots of accompaniments).

Once again, the majority of tourists appear to be from Germany, France, Spain, Thailand, Singapore, Japan with just a sprinkling of Americans. Kids and even vendors (and taxi drivers) use their very very limited English to ask where we are from. They are surprised when we say “US” to which they always reply “America.” Then if they have a few more words, they always say “Obama” with thumbs up. They also tell you that Obama came to Myanmar (although sometimes in convoluted ways). They also say Trump with thumbs down.

While we have clearly seen a lot and are making some judgements as to what is going on in the country, it’s difficult to really understand the complexities of this place. Without language, we cannot engage in any real conversation, and even if we encountered Burmese people who spoke English well enough to have a conversation, I doubt they’d be open enough to truly say what they know and feel. One thing I will say, is that there is a minimal military presence, unlike Tibet where we encountered police and military (and even security checkpoints) at every turn. As you know, Myanmar was under the rule of an oppressive military junta from 1962 to 2011. The generals suppressed all dissent which was symbolized by the house arrest of Aung San Suu Kyi. The country was condemned by international organizations. A gradual liberalization has been under way over the past six years and the government changed hands earlier this year. There has also been long running rebellions between the dominant ethnic group and the country’s small minority groups.

Htin Kyaw was sworn in as president in March, and this is the first democratically elected government after so many years of military control. The position belonged to Nobel Laureate Aung San Suu Kyi, who has been associated with the pro-democracy movement and who spent decades under house arrest while she led a nonviolent campaign to unseat the military leaders. But she was barred from becoming President, and the new president is supposedly her proxy. Kyaw is the first civilian elected president. Despite all of this, I’m sure the military wields a great deal of power. Still, young people tell us that whatever English they speak they have learned from American movies – with Rambo and Transformers being the ones mentioned over and again! They also watch international news on television and the Internet (which is not blocked, and those with smart phones have access to YouTube and other social media). The country is highly literate (90%) and education (although poorly funded) is compulsory, beginning at age 5. One taxi driver told us that schooling is mandatory through age 18 and that English is now taught beginning at age 5 (but it is mostly reading and not speaking).

We will have New Year’s Eve dinner at the hotel (as there is a “compulsory” charge for the dinner, so we might as well take advantage of it). Not my favorite way to spend New Year’s. I’m sure that there will be staged performances, and probably a buffet. I’ll report on that in the final missive tomorrow or the next day.. We are close to New Years here… and we leave Bagan tomorrow afternoon (fly to Yangon) We spend one night in Yangon (Sunday, January 1) and then have a marathon flying day on Monday (January 2).. We fly from Yangon to Narita (6.5 hours), then have an 8+ hour wait at the Narita Airport and then fly to Los Angeles (9 hours), go through customs and board a short flight to SFO. We are trying to switch to a direct flight to SFO, but even with all of my status thus far we have been unable to make the change. We’ll keep trying.

Happy New Year… We think we will be watching the ball drop as we pack at around 11:30 am here (it will already be January 1 here) – as ex-NYers this is a must!

Best- Let’s hope 2017 isn’t as bad as we are all predicting.

Fern

December 27. 6:30 pm. (California Time – 4:20 am)

Mingalaba (Hello). Greetings from Mandalay

Set out this morning for Mandalay Hill, from which you can get spectacular views of Mandalay, see literally thousands of pagodas and monasteries dotting the city and countryside, and also visit the Sutaungpyei Pagoda. Apparently there are stairs that go up the 750 feet (like climbing a 70’ apartment building?), but frankly we never saw them and everyone was doing what we did – being dropped off at an entry point, coming by trucks and cars, and buses, and taxis… and then going on an escalator to get to the main landing.  Anyway, once “inside” the Pagoda, you’re staggered by the plethora of statues and Buddhas and glitter and gold. Everywhere you look there are tiny pieces of reflective mirror set into columns and walls and floors and surrounding nearly all the statues. I suppose that each of the statues – small and large – tell another story, but alas I do not know any. We didn’t see any Americans at all for the entire time we’ve been in Mandalay, although there were tourists at the Pagoda (Taiwanese, Japanese, Chinese, and some Europeans).

As with most of the pagodas and monasteries – although they are hundreds and thousands of years old, they seem to always be under some kind of construction, reconstruction, repair. For this one, we saw a crew of men (of course on the floor without any tools, breaking mirrored glass with their hands… into small pieces (we later realized to replace some tiny pieces that had fallen out and also to fix a section of a wall that had hundreds of these little mirrored pieces. They had no gloves, no knee pads… Nada! We walked around for about an hour or so (of course barefoot) and then started to head for the stairs, since it was our intention to walk to the bottom of the hill. Somehow we couldn’t find the stairs and realized that the first part of the stair walk was still considered within the pagoda boundaries so you’d have to walk barefoot. We quickly opted to find a taxi, which proved not possible.

So we spotted a pickup truck outfitted with a metal canopy and housing two benches facing one another inside the truck. There were spaces on the benches, so we hopped on. The truck fit about 8 on each side and 5 people hanging off the back. There were also tiny plastic stools in the middle, between the benches. There was an assortment of passengers – all Burmese, except us – including a Buddhist nun who was caring for three small children – probably under the age of 5. I think the nuns care for orphans and these young children are raised in the monastery. Everyone was very friendly and thought it funny that we were on the truck (can’t imagine what they were saying, but they were laughing). The nun seemed to have lots of goodies with her, and gave us oranges and candy and then some toilet paper to use as a napkin.

The truck went about 35 mph down the steep dirt road with about 20 hairpin turns… Obviously no seat belts… We were all just holding onto the frame of the truck… and as we made the sharp turns we slid into one another. It was a little death defying – made the tuk tuk seem safe and peaceful. Of course, I felt safe because the nun made a prayer before the truck started to go – although I think she was blessing and praying for the children.

From there we headed to the teak monastery, Shwenandow… with amazing carvings throughout…. As with all the temples, the streets and paths leading to and those around the temple are filled with little makeshift vending stands. We purchased a marionette. Burma is famous for its puppets, and we purchased an old one rather than one crafted recently.

Then we stopped to visit yet another temple — Sandamuni Paya (I think) — this one with 1,774 marble slabs inscribed with important Buddhist text. Some people refer to this temple as “The World’s Largest Book.’  And then we headed to lunch (at the restaurant we wanted to go to last night, but was closed when we got there). We had the traditional Burmese meal, which consists of your selected main courses (we picked a chicken curry, dried beef, and fish cakes; but the meal also includes sour soup, and about 8 different small dishes that might be considered condiments, but which are eaten as separate side dishes – one was fired crickets, we think; others included eggplant, some vegetables, etc. OK.. so we are not giving Burmese food a big five-star rating, and I think after having had their local dishes a few times now, we’ll go back to Indian food while here.

Then we headed to the area in town where they actually carve the Buddhas that wind up in temples and everywhere else. It was a bit odd to see dozens and dozens of half-finished Buddhas – some with totally finished bodies and detail, but a cube shape for the head! They were also carving teak columns and other small pieces. We strolled that area for a while. Seems as if labor is divided by gender.. with men doing the carving and women doing the “polishing” of the marble and limestone. And the teak carvers are all men, who have an interesting style – sitting cross legged on the floor and using their legs as braces for the wood as they do the carving.

Strolled from there to yet another temple which literally has a huge “mall” with hundreds of vendors in a mall-like set up “inside” the sacred grounds. We needed to take our shoes off to walk the line of shops. Then, enough with temples – we headed to the Chinese Market – a group of about  20 streets within the city grid where Chinese-Burmese vendors sell every imaginable kind of food, including some ingredients that are not found in other Burmese markets. Had a lot of fun watching the vendors cook and make sales. Lots of young, somewhat upscale shoppers coming on motorcycles.

Then we needed to find a taxi, which the hotel kept telling us was very very difficult (and they recommend that you have the taxi driver wait for you and then you are guaranteed a driver and also a safe car). Well we’ve had no problem finding taxis, but this area was a bit chaotic. We saw a parked taxi with a little kid sitting inside (and figured that the parent who must be the driver couldn’t be too far away). As soon as we approached the driver came to the car (he was the grandfather), and off we went to the hotel – with the toddler (probably 3 or 4 years old) coming along for the ride!.  I guess that brings up another point. All cars have seat belts but no one uses them. The toddler was standing on the seat for most of the drive. Speaking of driving, they drive US style on the right hand side of the road, but the cars are all British style. I think this is because they get their cars in Thailand.

After a brief stop at the hotel – just long enough to get a gin and tonic – we headed for dinner at a restaurant we had read about called “Smart Garden.” The Burmese use English words for a lot of restaurants.. Names like Happy, Taste, Feeling, etc… Anyway, Smart Garden is situated on a large lake about 20 kilometers outside of town.. so the taxi ride was about 35 minutes. We knew that the restaurant had about a dozen little huts that jut out onto the lake and had hoped to be seated in one of them. When we arrived there was a lot of flurry, because absolutely no one speaks English. Anyway they did offer us one of the huts, but we wound up at a table on the “grass” because you had to sit on the floor cross-legged in the hut with the low table… and Mike felt he’d never be able to get up from the floor. Food was actually good; obviously very very cheap. We had a beef dish, a noodle dish, and a great crab dish, and rice, as well as two large beers – for about $15.00. Lots of dogs and cats lingering around for the food that falls on the ground, I suppose.

OK… that’s it for today.

Tomorrow we head to U Bein Bridge, and then I’m not sure (Actually, planning an easy day as I want to get some work done in the afternoon and early evening – we leave Mandalay (by boat) very very early on Thursday for Bagan.

All the best –

Fern

Yangon, Myanmar. Happy Hanukkah, Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays

I’ll try to condense a very long day into a short write up…

Headed out this morning to the Old Yangon again… but we took a different route and walked on different streets. Things were as chaotic as previously although today was a Saturday.  Meandered in and out of alleys; hotter and it seemed more humid than yesterday. I think we were also lagging more because now we knew you just had to keep walking. The area we walked through today seemed older, less tended to, and poorer than what we had seen yesterday (but it could just be my imagination).

Then we headed to Pomelo a fair trade shop we had heard about – carrying many products made by and through the clients of various NGOs such as ones that work with women with AIDS, etc.  Picked up some nice gifts and then headed to the Strand Hotel for an upscale “lunch” (at 2:30) of Burmese High Tea.  A bit like the British ones in London at fancy hotels.. but instead of little tiny sandwiches there were various Asian dishes… and lots of sweets. The Strand is an absolutely beautifully-restored hotel (that is actually located about a block or so from the tail end of the Night Market).

During the colonial period, The Strand was one of the most luxurious hotels in the British Empire… and the clientele was all White. It was sold and underwent a major renovation in 1937 and then in 1941, during WWII, following the Japanese occupation of Burma, the hotel housed Japanese troops (pretty nice digs). Then ownership changed to the old Imperial Hotel in Tokyo. In 1945, Burmese became part of the clientele of the hotel, but after Burmese independence the hotel became neglected (by post-colonial governments). After the 1988 coup, the hotel was sold and then underwent a major renovation. It is now a very very high-end hotel with teak and marble floors, mahogany furniture, etc. but unlike the other old hotels that get restored, the restoration stuck to its architectural past, so there isn’t any new addition, no swimming pool , etc. .. just elegant. While we are not staying at the Strand (although I would highly recommend it–but you will be in a White enclave), as you’ll hear in future posts, we used their services as needed!

Left High Tea and headed back to the hotel to drop off our bags of purchases from Pomelo and walked to the 2,500 year -old Schwedagon Pagoda – which is totally jaw-dropping… or as awesome as it gets.. It’s located west of the Royal Lake on a 114-acre site and is considered the most sacred and impressive Buddhist site for Myanmar people. It stands at 110 meters and is covered with hundreds of gold plates. The stupa has more than 4,000 diamonds (I’m told the largest is 72 carats). It has to be one of the wonders of the religious world. It is like a little city with hundreds colorful temples, stupas, and statues that reflect the many different eras of its 25 centuries. And the “village” has adapted in funny ways to current times – including the introduction of LEDs that flash around some of the Buddhas!  Strolling around the site you see Buddhist monks, and families, and the seriously religious as well as the gawkers.

As we entered we needed to pay (about $2 because we are foreigners; this seems to be the norm here; locals can enter free and foreigners cover the tab – which is fine by me); and we checked shoes and socks.. Then we could either use stairs or an escalator to get to the top… which is like walking within a little idyllic village with monstrous size Buddhas and reclining Buddhas and sitting Buddhas and stupas. People are congregated to just chat, to pray, to stroll. Young couples seem to come here to do what young couples do.

We expected to stay just a short time, but we stayed way longer. We had entered through the West Gate and that was where we checked our shoes, so we needed to leave by that same gate. We split up and then as we each tried to find the West Gate again we both got lost – connected only through texting — but not together. I wound up asking many people, but few spoke any English. Eventually I stumbled on one Burmese man who spoke a few words and was able to point in the direction. He also asked where I was from and when I said California he said “USA” and then said “Obama, Obama!” And I thought, how different travel will be under Trump.

We then headed back to the hotel where there was a pre-planned “Christmas Dinner”… It was sweet, held pool side with flowers and candles floating in the water. Following dinner, we made a quick change and decided to head to the cathedral to see what Midnight Mass would be like. Though not Catholic, as we’ve traveled a lot over the holidays over the years, we’ve gone to observe Midnight Mass in Vietnam, Mexico, Guatemala, Ecuador, and other places. So this seemed like a good idea.

As we approached the cathedral at about 11:15 pm, we were shocked. The church was totally packed; it held about 2,000 people. It was standing room only and people were sitting outside in chairs and on the grass. Catholics represent just 1% of the country’s population. But it was also like a “fair” with food stands outside and huge, bigger-than-life blow ups of Santa Clauses at the entryway of the church.. and LEDs everywhere within the church.. It was like a giant light show. We were part of the standing crowd, but at one point, as they were trying to clear the aisles, a church usher made a beeline to me and began to usher us to seats up front (I assume because we were clearly one of the very very few Whites, non-Burmese visitors). Then he stopped and asked if we were Catholic. When I said “No” he decided we should just stand.

Anyway, from 11 to midnight the choir and a children’s choir sang Christmas carols (in English – which seemed odd, since we know very few people speak English). The church was excruciatingly hot with so many bodies and no air conditioning and only very, very small fans. Anyway, at midnight the bishop (I think it was a bishop as he had a pointy hat and then a red skull cap) began his sermon, which seemed to go on and on and on. We left at about 12:30. It was a bit surprising that there wasn’t any nod to the local ethnicity and culture. Other midnight masses we’ve been to have incorporated a lot of the local flair. After doing some research we learned that there is conflict among Burmese Catholics because the church hierarchy has entertained the junta, has supposedly paid off the government, but mostly because it did not support the monks (who were fighting for the people) during the Saffron Revolution.

We walked through the throngs outside, passed more vendors selling Santa caps and more food.. and headed back to the hotel. Tomorrow is another day.

Happy Hanukah, Merry Christmas…

Fern

Yangon, Myanmar

Mayttar nhang kyarr litepareat – I think this means “greetings”

Although most people seem to say “Maingalarpar” – which I think is “Hi” .. a sort of informal and friendly greeting. Arrived in Yangon yesterday at about 4:00 pm after an 8-hour flight from Tokyo. Got through customs and immigration fairly quickly… Everything is very organized and people form easily into singular file and wait their turn. Got out bags and then headed to find a taxi which turned out to be very easy and unlike most developing nations where everyone is yelling for you to take their taxi and bargaining for prices. Here there is a taxi desk; you stop there and tell them where you are going; they tell you the price and walk you outside to a waiting (legal) cab. It cost about $5 to get from the airport to the Savoy Hotel. https://www.savoy-myanmar.com/ ..  It’s a colonial style building about 15 minutes from the hustle and bustle (and noise and chaos) of “downtown”…  We settled in (room is lovely and they have an amazing pool…surprised us that there even was a pool; we don’t have any bathing suits with us, so the fact that it is here is pretty much useless for us)… and then took off to find a place for dinner.

Took a taxi right to the thick of the chaos and ate at Monsoon – an interesting place that from the outside looks abandoned and totally in need of repair, but the inside is fine and food was quite good. It’s an eclectic Asian menu with dishes from Myanmar, Thailand, Vietnam, Cambodia, and Laos. We stuck with Myanmar and had a chicken with yogurt curry and an eggplant dish with some kind of chili peppers. All good; tried Myanmar beer which was not too exciting, but perfectly fine. Decided to taxi back; by then we were pretty exhausted, having started out at about 6 am and it was now about 11 pm and there had been a 2.5 hour time difference. (I hate these places with the 30 minute time difference – like Tibet.. and now Yangon… makes it difficult to figure out time back home.) 

Woke up this morning to tend to some office-related issues, including the construction of the new space which seems to be going well; I get pictures each day so I’m in the loop and my architect checks it all out as well. I seem to be in good hands with Angela and Fanny at the helm. Following breakfast which was a mix of American style eggs and pastries and Asian dishes – we hopped in a taxi again (about $2 each trip) to get to the big market called Bog Yoke Aung San which has more than 2,000 “stalls” – some of which are about 100 sq. ft. and have six people working in them.

The aisles between the “shops” are about one meter.. You could probably spend a day just drifting through the fabric sections, the jewelry cluster, etc. Eventually we reached the food area and checked out produce and other goodies. We spent about two hours meandering the place and then started to walk the streets which are filled (as they are in most large cities in developing countries) with packed buses that can are puffing out outrageous amounts of fossil fuel, pedestrians trying to get from place to place, cars, taxis and trucks.. and of course the unbelievable amount of construction and construction debris which sort of just sits there without any kind of barricade. And the sidewalks appear to be just concrete coverings of the sewer system, so it’s not so pleasant in the heat. Anyway, the streets are fantastic – packed with people. Everyone seems very friendly although no one speaks any English.. Store signs, however are in English and Burmese and “some” streets are labeled with English as well as Burmese so we can sort of manage to find our way. One interesting thing is that Yangon doesn’t seem to have any “tuk-tuks” like you take in Thailand and India and in most other Asian cities. I think that without the tuk tuks, traffic is much worse.

We walked to the Sule Temple – about a mile or so from where we were. Sule Pagoda is one of the largest pagodas in Myanmar and apparently a critical space in recent Burmese politics. Supposedly it was built before the Shwedagon Pagoda (which is the most famous one) about 2,500 years ago. It has been a rallying point in the 1988 uprisings and also in the 2007 Saffron Revolution. The blending of religion, culture, spirituality, politics, and daily life is evident everywhere. Like in Tibet, the temple is completely surrounded by shops on the first level (sort of “under” the pagoda) and has some overpasses (crosswalk bridges that literally connect right into the side of the temple .. clearly after thoughts once cars and buses were blocking entry). As we walked the stairs of one overpass and stopped to photograph, a young guy asked if he could be helpful. His English was pretty good. Turns out he spent one semester at UW studying English! Those Huskies certainly get around.

As we approached the entrance (sort of stumbled on it as you emerge from the overpass), the rules were clear.. no shoes and no socks and lots of signs about what you can and cannot be wearing. Mike decided he didn’t want to hassle the socks and shoe deal and was tired and hot and sweaty (it’s about 90 during the day and pretty humid if you are in the sun; in the shade it’s bearable). I gave up my sandals and went barefoot as required, but was stopped at the next entrance because my legs were exposed (I was wearing a simple sleeveless dress). I needed to be in either long pants or in a Longy – a sheet of cloth that is wrapped around the lower part of your body and held in place by tying a knot. It goes from the waist to the floor.  It’s worn by both men and women in the streets… Not sure what they wear under the longy, but everyone seems to always be adjusting their knot. Anyway, they loaned me a longy and in I went.. Charming fashion with my little striped dress. 

Once inside (which is sort of like a little village with lots of shrines and areas to pray in front of each, so it’s a little like walking between houses), I strolled for a while and then saw a group of girls sitting on the floor taking pictures of themselves. They were trying to take a group picture but naturally one person was always out of the photo being the photographer. I made motions that I could take the picture and then they could all be in the photo, and they giggled and agreed.. So I took the picture and then they each decided they really needed a picture with me … one at a time. So I was at the temple a little longer than planned. Anyway, they were adorable as shown here.. The peace sign is used a lot – sort of like the 60s in the US.. I then retrieved my shoes, returned my longy, and met up with Mike… We then decided to walk (about another mile or so) to the only synagogue in Myanmar. We saw it on the map and decided the walk would be fun (although more sweaty)… and that it could be interesting to see. Along the way, as we kept checking out map to see if we were headed in the right direction, a young man stopped to see if he could help. Turned out he was Japanese; living in Yangon for the past 7 months selling real estate to foreigners. I think he thought we might be good prospects. Anyway, he did lead us to the right street which was helpful.

It was a longer and more messy walk than we had contemplated, but we got there… It is smooshed between an Indian-run paint and hardware shops and a Muslim shop. It’s about 120 years old – the Musmeah Yeshua Synagogue. It was open so we went inside. We were the only ones in there. It was cool and had ceiling fans so we sat for a bit. No fee, no security guards, no literature but there was a not too well put together exhibit about the building. They did have a little basket with kippahs.. Mike donned one.  I did a little research and learned that Myanmar once had a thriving Sephardic Jewish community that arrived with the British from India, following the teak wood trade. There were about 2,500 Jews.. but most fled during the Japanese occupation and then the others left when the Burmese army took power in 1962.

Now there are just 20 Jews spread out across the county…. But, as Samuels says, there is hope for preserving the community and the important role it had played in Myanmar’s history. But according to the article I read, the relationship between Muslims and Jews is good (and that seems to be evident when you sense that the area near the synagogue is populated mostly by Muslims.

Then we were in search for food. – essentially a good noodle shop… We thought we knew where to head, but we were really lost in the cacophony of the street life… Anyway, we were having a good time checking out tiny streets and moving about the narrow alleys and amid all the teeny shops. By the way, I think I know where all the e-waste goes! It’s sold on the streets of Yangon.

Along our “walk” we ran into a guy who asked if we could take his picture on this tiny street with all the shops and good around him. I said “sure” and then we learned (and met) that he is Indian, but his father grew up in Burma (we then met the father and the uncle and took a family picture for them. I’m guessing that maybe they lived on that street. The son, who lives in Mumbai is a banker (worked at JP Morgan for a decade and lived in London and Mumbai). We chatted briefly in the street (messing up traffic even more)… and then we parted.

never did find the noodle place and by 3:00 we were hungry, tired, dripping wet, hot, and ready for a taxi. We decided to just eat a late lunch at the hotel.

Mike is resting and I’m writing this and then moving on to deal with purchasing new printers for the new office (the wonders of the Internet), getting my flights for January and February (Oakland – Seattle – Oakland) and working on my syllabus for Winter Quarter. Doubt that I’ll get to all of it today, but I need to start devoting some time to it each day…

Tonight we will go to the Night Market and then find a place for dinner in that area.

Best..

Fern

PS – Sorry for the length. Read or toss!