It is our last day in Yangon and I will be visiting the orphanages. The places you are glad exist, but break your heart just the same. I remember years ago helping in the Ukrainian orphanages and the saddest part was the children starting to perform the minute they saw a foreigner, in hopes of being selected and taken home with them. The Burmese children do not know about being adopted, so thankfully they do not experience the ups and downs of that process. At the first orphanage, our van was greeted by some older children dressed in the native tribal outfits. Within a few minutes, the younger ones joined the group and started putting leis of Christmas garland around our necks. Then, two small hands grabbed each of mine and started leading me around the compound. Sleeping quarters, the kitchen, playing grounds, vegetable gardens and livestock areas were all tour stops. One of the little girls touring with me picked a flower out of the garden and handed it to me. So sweet.
My Posy Girl
En route to tour the chicken coop across the creek
Growing gardens
Buddies
Tribal Dress
Sweet Thanaka Tour Guide
The tour ended at the main gathering place where all the children were assembled and ready to sing for us. After introducing ourselves and telling where we were from, the kids performed solo and as a group with gestures and dance moves. The beautiful, well-mannered children had every eye glued to these strange white faced foreigners. I had brought balloons as they are compact and easy to pack, but I didn’t think about the poor house parents having to listen to them squeak when the air is let out over and over again. Balloons eventually break, right? Snacks were passed around and they all wanted to touch and hug us as we boarded to leave. The waving hands never stopped and the smiles at no time left a face as we rolled out of the gates down the road
Smiles & Waves Good-bye
At the next orphanage, after the singing and touring, the kids broke into smaller groups and each of us visiting had time to interact while putting together puzzles. One bright little girl in my group named Mary spoke excellent English and became the spokeswoman for the others in our circle. The girls were giggling and egging her on to question me on something, but she was too shy to ask. I said “What is it Mary, what do they want to know?” Her little finger pointed toward my eyes and she said, “What do you call Those?” I suddenly realized she meant my eyelashes. Then she asked, “What is the makeup on them?” I said, “Mascara.” She said, “They are very long.” I asked if she wanted to touch them and she immediately shook her head yes. Mary’s finger was first, followed by six others. It was then that I realized that most Burmese and other Asians don’t really have much in the way of eyelashes, thus the curiosity. What a cute, funny bonding experience with these precious loving girls.
The street where the orphanage is located
Beautiful melodies from overflowing hearts
Two of the eyelash admirers from my group
More Cuteness
Everyone in our group had been traveling in many different directions today. The taxis and vans seemed to converge back at the hotel at the exact same time and we were hungry for PIZZA. Our leader (Mike) knew of a pizza shop located in the Oceans Mall, so several of us manned taxis and headed out to bring back take out. Arriving at the pizza place, we tried to make heads or tails out of the interesting pizza offerings (that included ketchup or chili sauce, don’t ask me). In the end, several were ordered and we proceeded to explore the mall as the pies were being baked. In the basement, there was a full grocery store that also carried limited clothing. I always enjoy scanning the shelves in a foreign country looking at all the packaging and trying to figure out what some of the goods actually are. Mike discovered the 3 in 1 aisle and was getting a bag, so I decided I better bulk up on my stash, with two more weeks in the trip. During the middle of my selecting, the power went out in the store, no lights anywhere (a very common occurrence). As Mark said, “The Americans make a bee line towards the exit and the locals continue to shop.” It was true. Within five minutes, the electric was back on and we were the only ones surprised by the ordeal. Leaving the grocery, we crossed the aisle to the pharmacy where very amusing finds could be found. Here is one such item that I got reprimanded for taking a photo of (thus the blurrrrriness), but I got it.
Not sure why they need this in Burma, I have yet to see one fat person
The pizza (though not the Hut) was tasty with a decent crust, a nice ending to the last day in Yangon. Tomorrow, we fly to Inle Lake where I am sure more glorious adventures await.