My purpose in traveling to Burma was to reconnect with my Burmese friend who had studied in the States 24 years ago. We have kept in contact as best as possible due to the country’s various mandates. Unable to find a traveling companion, I was determined to venture out solo in order to attend the graduation ceremony at his school and travel with his family to the north of Myanmar. Having tried to visit before, I knew that getting things arranged could prove somewhat difficult. One is not allowed to stay in the homes of friends and all travel be it air, rail, tours, hotels etc…must be arranged in country with a local travel agent. So even though the recent openness has improved the system somewhat, there are still many hurdles to leap over. Thankfully a friend introduced me to a woman who has been traveling there with her husband for ten years and navigates the system well. After speaking with Kathy, I found out that they would be taking a group over in January and she offered for me to join them on the first part of my trip. A wonderful answer to my numerous dilemmas. The ease of having my visa, hotels and touring arranged was phenomenal. The true surprise (as I met them at the airport) was “THE GROUP” I got the pleasure to be a part of and get to know. They were an exceptional highlight and bonus of my journey.
"THE GROUP BAREFOOTIN" at Shwedagon Pagoda
Yangon is awake and bustling and my jet lag along with the screeching of wandering cats outside my window, has left me sleepless. In spite of the lack of sleep, I am excited to embrace the day full speed ahead. Being the first morning, our group gets more acquainted outside in the open air dining space adjacent to the hotel. I embarked on the initial discovery of morning fare in these parts. The usual breakfast entries of Myanmar were arranged on the buffet for self-selection. Fried rice a must, the equivalent of Korean kimchi made the Burmese way, unpeeled fruits such as bananas and oranges, white bread for toasting with interesting tropical fruit jams, and some other cooked veggies in sauces unknown. The hotel staff cooks made to order eggs and Burmese type pancakes with honey instead of syrup. The self-serve coffee had a bit too many grounds for my liking, so I was pleased with myself for bringing 3 in 1 Korean packets with me. Little did I know, until my sweet group made me aware, that our rooms were supplied daily with the lovely café in a pouch. I then became the recipient of coffee in a sleeve from all who did not want theirs. What wonderful people, my group. (A girl needs her coffee, especially when her average sleep is 3 hours a night) I selected a plantain and pancake for my first meal. The plantains were so flavorful that I took a second. This would be my breakfast for the next four days, either plantains solo or with a pancake on the side and my 3 in 1. I mention it because after three days of plantains they ran out. On seeing me at breakfast my kind server who knew my routine brought me a pancake and sent the other server girl for a plantain run unbeknownst to me. She came back minutes later with an entire stalk of plantains (I’m talking at least 60 in the bunch over her shoulder) like they cut them off the tree (which come to think of it, they just might have). So, we all got a good laugh. The bigger story here is how much the Burmese take pride in what they do and seem to really like serving others. Their service is always accompanied with a lovely smile and bow to boot. This is just the first of many examples I will experience in this amazing culture.
Golden Silk Road Boutique Hotel-Yangon, Open Air Dining On The Left
The sea of sand that I observed briefly in the night has now grown in the light of day; like a tidal wave it has engulfed me. As I travel unmarked street to unpaved path, it is the same. Dedicated ladies in the middle of the road sweep with handmade straw brooms attempting to corral the limitless particles into bigger piles. Fruitless in my estimation, but I am awed with the persistence to keep order in their world. My fascination is not with the dust itself, but that these gentle, meticulous, kind people continue with everyday living and seem not to notice.
My first official lunch in Myanmar was actually Indian, not surprising since they are neighbors. Biryani, but made Burmese style with cashews, raisins, peas, cloves, cinnamon, saffron, and bay leaf. The rice was a domestic grain not the typical basmati and in Burma it is cooked together with the chicken. The dish was scrumptious with the exact amount of seasoning and the chicken fell off the bone almost like it had been pressure cooked. The take out entrée came with a spoon and an extra packet of spice, just in case you needed to take it up a notch. Mine was perfect as is.
There is a freedom that we never get to experience unless we arrive in a country like Burma. The evolving rules of the road change (if there were any to begin with) as often as new people are added to the traffic. It is more fun than any amusement ride I have ever been on. Thoroughfares that are the width of one lane and a quarter accommodate two vehicles be it commercial truck, bus, taxi, motorbike, three-wheelers (with room for 8 or more passengers in back), light trucks (small pickup with 10 or more riders inside and on top), and bicycles with or without side carts. All are able to survive as long as they have a horn and can honk loudly and often. One can pass on either the left or the right side of the route, whichever you prefer. Having the agility to swerve missing wandering livestock and dogs napping in the center of the artery is definitely a plus. The cherry on top is throwing in a few pedestrians, some food cart vendors pushing, and ladies balancing a cadre of things on their heads to round out the mix. Every vehicle has its own nuances that I love. You will see compact discs suspended by string blowing in the breeze used as reflectors off carts. (Reminded me of tin pie plates scaring away the birds in the garden) Taxis careen at breakneck speed no matter what the conditions, constantly beeping at the other motorists letting them know that they have paying customers, so move. Scooters or motorbikes give a new meaning to: I can carry my entire family, a step ladder, wheels, bamboo poles, baby, bicycle, livestock, baskets of produce, flowers, etc, etc, etc… effortlessly. Seriously, I have seen all the above mentioned items and more whizzing past me. I especially like the female scooter passenger, riding in a long skirt, poised sitting side saddle with her ankles daintily crossed and a handbag dangling from her wrist. She balances so well holding on to nothing, as if seated on a stationary chair in the middle of a room.
This was not the Taxis I was writing about, wrong kind of horns.
Double Stacked Produce, Balancing in a Skirt, just sayin'
Chips Anyone?
Yes guys, you can wear a skirt and pedal
I think motor bike guy next to chair bike guy is kind of slacking, don't you?
I see eggs, but not the kitchen sink
The most interesting part of the driving experience is that all the cars have the steering wheels on the right like the British who departed here in 1948. Yet, they drive on the right, like the Americans. Apparently, on a random day in 1974 they announced that instead of driving on the left they would now drive on the right. An act some say to put more distance from those who had ruled them in the past. My Burmese friend said it was utter chaos that day. He was in University and no one knew which bus to get on or which way it was going, totally crazy. The main problem with this driving set up is that it gives the driver an unbelievable blind spot, especially for tour buses which require a spotter to jump out at any given time and direct. Foreign passengers seeing the cars on the right hand side of the road assume the steering wheel also resides to the left and frequently open the driver’s side door to the laughs of locals. I have only seen one scooter collision so far, not bad when you consider the congestion everywhere and the numerous sand and rocks that must be maneuvered. It is absolutely without a doubt an adrenaline rush. Rumor has it that steering wheels will be moving over to the left side of the vehicle by 2015.
One side note is the interesting way that these wide range of vehicles fill up. It was several days until I realized every 5 seconds I was passing a gas station and didn’t know it. Basically, anyone who wants to sell petrol is able to and does in an assortment of interesting vessels. Water and whiskey bottles, cooking oil containers, metal cans, you name it and they use it to hold gas. The bottles of different shapes and sizes are filled with varying shades of yellow to red gasoline and are placed either on a small wobbly legged table or the more creative custom designed multi shelf holder. Occasionally, you will see an actual service station with pumps as we know it, but to every one of them there are 500 individuals selling in front of their shops or homes.
Gas Station Pump of Burma {#1}
Gas Station Pump of Burma {#2}
Gas Station Pump of Burma {#3}
Not Sure?
Myanmar is way beyond bustling traffic, it is all the rest and more. YES, YES, YES I love being right in the center of it!