FINALLY!!!!

FINALLY!!!

It is early Sunday morning as I sit and observe the comings and goings of the Ayarwaddy Hotel lobby. I am awaiting James youngest son Finney to arrive and transport me across the city of Mandalay to attend services. FINALLY, after 26 years I will get to see where my friend lives. Be able to wander the grounds of the school and church that he has both physically and spiritually built and nurtured into vibrancy. I will also witness and participate in the 25th graduation ceremony of the Seminary. Now sitting in the backseat of the family car, the Indy 500 time trials driving of Burma commences, providing incredible views if you can focus on them fast enough from the car window. The stop lights of red, green and yellow are not what you will find on the streets of Burma (which is actually kind of funny, since those are the national colors and many things are draped accordingly). Instead you will see a countdown of numbers telling you 3-2-1 time to stop. I know color blindness can be a problem when driving, but I am thinking dyslexia could be worse in this scenario.

 {Triple Motor Bike Ride ~ side saddle check, carrying a few bags check, missing one small child to make it complete}

{Count down to a STOP}

A frequent sight while traveling throughout the entire country is the single file lines of slender framed Buddhist monks draped in robes covering one shoulder. As few as ten or as many as forty monks follow in the foot path of the monk walking in front of them.  The hues displayed by their cloaks are like a trees leaves turning into autumn splendor, from vibrant cinnamon, to rusty red or mustard yellow. The individual adornment depends on the particular monastery they attend. Their lanky arms swaddled around earthen bowls, sometimes bigger than the small boy monks themselves.  The promenade stops at various restaurants, where the proprietors fill their balanced vessels with rice or perhaps soup. It is interesting to watch, basically the monks are being fed by the impoverished Burmese people. I witness this site repeatedly as the car careens around corners.

Arriving at James villa was so delightful, FINALLY putting a place and face to all the things I have heard about for so many years. His lovely wife Sui and sons oozing with hospitality from every pore. I felt like an important dignitary coming from afar. The reception was beyond unbelievable as it seemed every student and congregational member greeted me. The complex was set up beautifully with dormitories surrounding the perimeter. A  commons area with tables and seating in the center was flanked by an outdoor kitchen, shaded by mature overhanging trees.  The largest building which was at capacity this morning, fulfills many purposes for the school and then for Sunday services. Today it served as the commencement hall with many visiting family and friends of the graduates in attendance.

{Courtyard at the Seminary}

As I sat at the end of the row near the front, I had a great vantage point to turn and see the smiling, singing people. The joy that I felt overwhelmed me and made me smile as big as any Burmese in attendance. Who knew that so many years ago being seated next to James at a mission’s dinner in Dallas would change my life and bring so much goodness with it.  Certainly not I.  How amazing that we do nothing and God orchestrates circumstances and lives to intersect, all the while knowing that the outcome will be so incredible because HE sees the start and the finish. Yes, over the last few weeks I have been reliving the ”beginnings”, explaining to my traveling group of my initiation into the world of Burma by James 26 years ago. How grateful I feel at getting to see this beauty come to fruition while still in this world and not just later in the world to come.  I am honored beyond belief to stand and address this 25th graduating class of Seminary Bible students. It also makes one ponder of how much can be done even with limited resources, political upheaval, and persecution when God is at the helm and you do as my friend James said when he graduated from his studies “I want nothing that hinders your face Lord”.

 {Who else but lovely James}

The ceremony was traditional in that the graduates (11 men and 1 woman) wore caps and gowns and did a processional and recessional. During the lovely service,. I would sit with my eyes closed listening to the harmonious music coming forth. Many songs familiar in tune, with the melodies seeming to have more Spirit when you don’t have to understand the words, yet still feel the life deep within it. I shared during my speech that when I met James all of this was just mere seeds being planted and now it has become a vibrant forest stretching throughout the Myanmar countryside. At the conclusion of the service, as would be normal in any setting it was time for photographs. However, where I am concerned (fair, blonde) waaaaaayyyyy more photographs than are normal or necessary. (More on that phenomenon later). 

After sharing a delicious lunch prepared by Sui in James home, we exchanged thoughtful gifts and tried to catch up on the people, events and years of our lives. Mid-afternoon, Finney returned me to the hotel, but on the way back he took a different route. I realized that this outdoor menagerie of markets was a mere 6 blocks from where I was staying, easily walkable and just what I adore. So armed with my camera and kyats I set out to discover the flavor of any great place, the STREET MARKETS! The sand covered my flip flops as I made my way down the edge of the road, (where a sidewalk would typically reside) between the traffic and shops. As always the stares and hellos followed me everywhere I turned. I couldn’t believe how much there was to see even before arriving at the true designated marketplace. Women seated cross legged on rattan mats, dipped their woven flat baskets into gigantic piles of spices shaking them fervently as to remove any stones or sediment.

{Mounds of Spices}

 {One purveyor showing me his list, in case I was in the buying mood. I probably would have gone for the Lab Lab or the Eye Bean (Blue)}

Fascinating to observe this process over and over again as I passed each store front. One group of ladies shaking sesame, another tumeric, etc…  Each woman seemed to have her own technique down pat and it was incredible to watch the spices float through the air with the aroma following.

The lingering scent was like a soothing perfume covering the exhaust plumes from the road.  I was glad my nostrils were inhaling the fragrant incense, because when I rounded the corner and arrived at the actual street where the market began, I found my feet were now covered with fish slime and water. Quite a sight to behold every size fish imaginable being sold, some whole, others cut and gutted, but all got slapped into a plastic shopping bag. Let’s just say ice wasn’t any part of the equation.

{Cadre of Fish}

{Portable scales for weighing scales}

{Some silvery thin slimy????????? with mini whiskers}

{Scale Scraping Station}

{I appreciated the use of leaves with a little dirt for display, instead of the full dirt road ~ had I been buying this stall would have been my choice}

Proceeding from the seafood section, I meandered into the living fowl department. Some feathered friends tied together like a chicken convention and other birds crammed into wooden cages of all shapes and sizes.

{This was the non-living fowl section}

I was definitely the only Anglo for miles so the peering continued with wonder and amazement, like I was the odd market item on display. One well-spoken man pushing a bicycle full of balloons stopped to speak with me. His English was perfect and he asked why I would ever want to come and slush around in this area. I said I LOVE IT, it is the true fabric of the country and it is captivating.  He laughed and wished me well and went on about pushing his bike through the crowds of vendors.

{Balloon Bike Man}

 Feeling the need to give my nose a mini vacation from the plethora of smells, I decided to venture off the main street and on to the arteries where trucks, crates and garage like stalls were filled to abundance with every kind of produce imaginable.

{Endless lines of stalls with produce}

{Overflowing fruits & veggies delectably displayed}

{The Green Feet told me to stop for the Cauliflower Truck, definitely a first for me to see}

{Baskets and Baskets and Baskets of Tomatoes}

Shortly after starting my vegetable walk a young man standing on the back of a full truck of cauliflower started waving at me somewhat spastically. I waved and continued on my way. A few moments later he was right beside me and shoving a Burmese magazine toward my face and pointing to the picture and then turning his finger toward me. I was a bit confused as he spoke in rapid fire Burmese assuming I understood.  Suddenly I realized, he thinks I am the girl in the picture because she has blonde hair. I shook my head no. He seemed a bit disappointed, I felt bad. I then motioned to look at the photo closer and began to burst out laughing, as it was a picture of Cameron Diaz. No most definitely NOT. I have been told I resemble Drew Barrymore (personally I don’t see it) but that is as far as it goes with my Charlie’s Angel status.

{I don't think so, but thanks for the compliment}

Continuing onward I was not sure what was around the next bend, but by the smell of it something was definitely cooking.

{I knew what was in one pot ~ love the Indiana Corn Girl sitting on some comfy shucks}

Yes, woks with simmering bits and pieces are what I encountered in full display. It is always fascinating to see all the bobbing and bubbling like baby boats tossed in a sea of oil, yet you have absolutely no idea what it is they are preparing.

{Fried This & That}

{Just in case the cooking gets too fired up! ADORED these buckets wanted to take one home}

Beyond the sputtering and splattering, the noise of clanging dangling pots ensued, so I continued to walk further into the marketplace maze.  Catching a glimpse of a rainbow of colors, the next left I took exploded into fabulous fragrant blooms of all varieties.

{Cart of colors}

  {The delicate strands mostly used at Buddhist shrines for offerings}

{Blossoms Galore}

 {Unending Blooms, LOVE the woven slatted cart}

This was one of my most favorite stops, as the brightness seemed to alleviate the dust that usually prevails. I spent lots of time breathing in and photographing these blossoms arrayed on rolling carts, motor scooters and nimble fingered arrangers.

While I surveyed the area, I paused to watch children and adults play the popular game Chinlone in the middle of the flower strewn street. Chinlone means cane ball and the game is played with a 5” ball made from woven bamboo strips. It is a bit like Hackey Sack in that you use your feet and not hands, but you can also use your head and knees as well. It usually consists of 6 players who pass the ball around while walking in a circle.  There was also a group of boys probably five years old, playing Shoot ‘Em Up and run and hide, darting between stalls and climbing over the full stacks of gunny sacks. I was made a part of the “Gunsmoke” drama and thus I entertained the crowds as I pretended to be shot and took a dramatic fall onto a sack of produce, before hitting the ground.

I didn’t feel the need to buy anything at this intriguing venue, just take lots and lots of photos and be in the moment, it was spectacular. Every time I would take a picture of a child the parent or grand-parent would want to see it.  I wondered how many of them had never seen a digital image like that before. 

{Now you see why I couldn't stop clicking}

It was the most pleasant of afternoons doing exactly what I love in any country that I visit, seeing the markets with all the incredible, unique wares and connecting with real people. Thus, begins the last part of my Burma adventure without my treasured new friends of the first two weeks. Myanmar is like a book you want to keep reading and never put down. Every chapter reveals a nuance you have never seen before. More paragraphs will be written, as James has much to show and tell and there is still so much to see and do. I know I am not even half way through the pages of this story. I scarce can take it all in…..but I most certainly will try. No bookmark in my hand.