So the question is not whether you should visit Burma, but it is when you will visit. Yes, extreme human rights violations do occur every day and some of your money will go to the military while visiting. However, the little you can spare, whether giving kyat to a local villager for a handmade longgi or staying at a family owned guesthouse, will make the difference in a few lives, and in yours. So far, throughout my adventures, Burma has been my favorite trip of all...even better then the pyramids. So let's go back in time...
We had planned this trip months in advance, as I had fuond ridiculously cheap airfare to Rangoon on one of those pormotion days on AirAsia. It was so far in advance that it was still too early to be excited or nervous about going. It did not hit me until on the plane that I was going to Burma. Most poeple in the States do not even know what Burma is, let alone know where it is. We had been told to be careful and make sure to follow the rules while traveling throughout the country, as it is one of the most corrupt countries in the world. That is probably all I can say about that. I wish I could describe more about what happens there, but I live in the second most internet censored and monitored country after China. I'd prefer to stay out of Thai, or Burmese prisons, thank you.
We were greeted by Kaizer's friend at the airport, who was kind enough to pick us up and take us to his hotel in the city center. It was so helpful, as we would have been pretty lost upon arrival. We took a government taxi, which are more luxurious and expensive, through the green windy streets that led down to the main square. Driving through Rangoon was like going back a few decades. No car was made after 1990, and maybe had windows, sidemirrors, or paint jobs. Makeshift songtaews picked up locals, as 20-30 Burmese crammed into the back or on top of the vehicles. We learned what the real taxis were like a few hours later when we were on our own to get to the bus station. There is not much to a Rangoon taxi -- a frame, engine, and some seats. No belts, no mirrors, no pads. I remember ours had little putting green-like rugs at our feet. The car had literally been stripped from the inside, with no covers on the doors, where you could see the skeleton of the entire car. Interesting. We were lucky enough to never break down, as normal Rangoon roads seem to encourage lake sized potholes. It seemed like going off road may have been safer than paved roads. Anyways, after our nice cab ride to the hotel, our new friend, Deep Kieren helped us illegally exchange money through his hotel (a very common occurence). Since the junta is, well...the junta, government rates are purely entertainment. The average street black market rate for $US to kyat is $1=900ky. Government rate, 1$=560ky. I figure if even the most luxurious hotel in Rangoon is exchanging money illegally, it must be legit. Apparently using black market rates are common. So common that even the currency exchange operator at the airport was not open anymore. So obviously, with a rate of almost 1000 to 1 (and the highest bill being 1000), we felt like gazillionaires when Deep Kieren gave us two stacks of kyat worth a couple hundred dollars. And thus, we were ready to take on Burma, one thousand kyat at a time.
Deep Kieren and two of his friends gave us a brief tour of the area, which included eating khao suei (local noodle dish -- very good), and getting our bus tickets aranged for the 10 night bus to the mysterious Bagan. $15 for a ten hour ride isn't too shabby, i guess. And that was with dual pricing for farang. Before arriving in Burma, Kaizer had been in contact with a friend he met through an event at the FCCT (Foreign Correspondants Club Thailand), who was going to be going to Bagan on the same day. He contacted her and we agreed to meet up at the bus station. That was a bit difficult, since the bus station was more like a small town, with the population made up of buses. It even had a bus graveyard. We quickly realized we weren't going to find her among the confusion and size of this 'station'. So, what did we do? Find the nearest resteraunt and order local beer. The local beer happened to be the best tasting beer since Beer Lao. And Beer Lao is pretty damn good. The combination of the light smooth taste of Myanmar Beer and free nuts made for quite a few hours before our trip. However, the easy and cheap flowing brew soon began to show its high asian alcohol content. It was already too late before Shannon and I realized we each drank 3 large bottles of that green glowing delight. It was then we realized we had a ten hour bus ride, with no bathroom on board. And Burmese roads aren't what you would call smooth. I believe there is only one fully paved road in the counrty, and we were not taking it. Luckily, we stopped twice along the way, at the very convenient times of 11pm and 3am. Not that I was trying to sleep or anything. Oh yeah, and guess who we found upon boarding our bus -- Kaizer's friend Martha. She happened to be on the exact same bus at the same time. We knew it was her, as she was the only other white person on the bus. The bus stopped twice at these 'stops', sort of like our version of truck stops, but for buses, vans, cars, trucks making journeys. The food was...interesting, so I usually grabbed a whole marble cake from a vendor to hold me over.
We arrived around 3:30am into Bagan, where we grabbed our first horse cart that Deep had arranged for us back in Rangoon. Luckily, the quarter final Braca champions league second leg clash against Arsenal was still playing in the common kitchen area of the guesthouse. After I watched Messi and Xavi make the Gunners look silly in a 3-1 rout, I hit the bed around 4...Forca Barca. Unfortunately, the guesthouse was not worth its value, as it came equipped with prehistoric mosquitos and a dry coughing sick local that may or may not have died over night. So...we slept well. We left after a few hours of sleep, bargaining for the rooms, as we only stayed half of a night. Martha recommended a guesthouse that she read about called New Haven, which we found right around the corner. New Haven was our haven for the next few days, and it made our stay in Bagan amazing. They exchanged money for us at a good rate, arranged all our transport, rented us bikes, and provided spacious and comfortable rooms...with air-con! Although, since it was Burma, electricity would go out frequently, and would not come back on until the government felt like turning it back on...convenient, eh? So the first day we ventured out into the lost ancient city of Bagan, filled with over 2,000 temples, all for our exploring.
Bagan is Burma's prized jewel -- one of the greatest sites not only in the country but in South East Asia. Across endless plains, stretching back from the great Ayerwaddy River, thousands of stupas, chedis, and phatos (temples) of all sizes lye in every direction. The temples reflect the Kingdom of Bagan's golden period, which was between 1000 and 1200AD. It was overrun by Kublai Khan and the Mongols in 1287. The plains of Bagan were as if all the churches and cathedrals in Europe were placed together in the Loire Valley -- Asian style. After its decline and endurred invasions, Bagan became a mysterious location, with rumors of looters and 'nats' (haunted spirits). Once the Queen's Navy arrived for colonization, the cities of Nyaung U (where we stayed), and New Bagan sprung up. So after mongol, chinese, ghost, and spirit invasions, British colonialism, and a deveastating 1975 earthquake, Bagan still stands magnificient -- even though it is merely a frail shadow of what it was at its peak. So I will spare those who do not want a further history lecture and continue the story of our Burmese Days (a book by George Orwell for those who did not catch the pun).
So, we rented bikes. We bagn our journey by stopping after a minute or so to grab food. You can pretty much find anything you want in Bagan as far as food. We ate western, indian, burmese, chinese, and italian food in three days there. All amazing. And everything comes with free nuts. I don't know why I found those so amazing, but I did. I guess you have to be there. It also helps when Myanmar and Mandalay Beer is cheaper than water -- and water is cheap. So after eating we toured the mighty golden Shwezigon Paya. It resembeled That Luang from Vientiane, but bigger and better. Legend has it that the Shwezigon was built to house one of the four replicas of Buddha's tooth in Kandy (city in Sri Lanka). The other three were transported to other regions of the country. Perhaps the tooth fairy was among the looters and invaders in the 13th century, because I couldn't find any teeth. That was a dumb joke, I know. So when we parked our bikes outside the Paya, we were greeted by shop women who gave us paper butterfly pendants, and asked us to remember them for their presents. We shouldn't have accepted. After touring the great Paya and exploring the golden wonder by ourselves, we walked back through the corridor on the cool white marble under our barefeet. There we were greeted by our new 'friends', who literally grabbed us and sat us on stools to look at their goods. They basically forced everyone into buying something (extremely overpriced), and would not let us leave without doing so. So I bought a figurine or two, but apparently was not good enough. The lady gave my gifts to be wrapped to her friend who refused to give me my purchase until I bought something from her shop. I understand that these women did not have much money or get frequent business, but this was not the way to get me to buy something. I would say that I felt bad for literally pulling my BOUGHT goods from the woman's kung fu grip, but I didn't. I was becoming a nat myself, haunting the very steps of the Shwezigon, pillaging and plundering...but not really. I just wanted my little jade elephant. So after finally gathering everyone from the shopowners, and listeing to kung fu lady tell me how much she was not happy and that her butterfly present obviously meant I owed her $20 worth of lacquerware, we headed out. I must have cursed us, because Kaizer's chain fell off his bike as soon as he got on. We spent an extra 20 minutes with the butterfly ladies. At this point I was ready to unleash more evil spirits, so I rode my little basket bike around the Paya a few times to cool off in the scorching Burmese heat. I felt bad (a little) when the lady kept telling me she didn't like me. But I guess I just don't like poeple literally grabbing my arm, forcing me to sit and not get up until I bought something, and then get my purchase stolen. Oh well, sabai sabai. So we pushed on, and headed towards Old Bagan, where most of the larger stupas stood.
Riding through Bagan was amazing. Words can not really describe the feelings as you ride down windy bumpy roads passing horse carts and villagers surrounded by giant orange lit temples. We stopped frequently, as I love exploring temples, at nearly every stupa or chedi we passed. It was as if we were the first to stumble across the site, with no tourists, no fees, no guards, no gates, no 'do not climb' signs, no anything...just you, nature, and history. We explored all day, with a stop in a local village for some food. After enjoying some fried rice, we set off to find Shwesandaw Paya for a good sunset. After being lost for a good while, we found the white Paya completly deserted, apart from the few painting sellers and children selling postcards. Here Martha played with the children as she always did. She carried along a grocery bag full of pencils and school supplies to give out, which everyone loved her for it. Kaizer sat at the bottom of the chedi talking Bollywood and Shahrukh Khan to some local vendors. With India just west of Bagan, India flexes some of its Bollywood soft power. While everyone chatting, Shannon and I took advantage not a single tourist and climed Shwesandaw, to a magnificient view. It was so quiet...until the tour buses showed up. Right around sunset, hordes of buses and taxis destroy the grass around the temple, letting off obnoxious ankle biting univited guests. I didn't mind that everyone wanted to see a great view of a great ancient city. I did mind the demeanor and etiquette of most of the poeple. I found it disgusting to find women in tank tops and short hooker skirts smoking and drinking on a century old sacred temple. I found it obnoxious when peopel would follow and take pictures of devoutees who were actually there to pray, circling the layers of the Paya. I even saw these same people with lonelyplanet guidebooks. I have one, and one of the first things it mentions is that Burma is NOT Thailand, and you must be conservative and respectful, especially around sacred sites. I wish the ancient nats would have pushed the full moon party tank topped girls with cans of beer down the stairs of the temple...but that wuold be bad karma, and I wouldn't have wanted that. And of course, as soon as everyone finished their booze, cigarettes, and jumping pictures, they all immediately left. The tours may have only been there for maybe a half hour. It was great...we had Shwesandaw to ourselves once again. The nats worked. However, staying as long as we did presented us the difficutl task of biking home in the dark. And remember, electricity is unpredictable.
So obviously, the street lights on the only main road went out occasionally, making it difficult to ride a bike and shine a flashlight. And of course, my bike would get a nasty flat tire. Luckily, two locals we met earlier in one of the temples, who really liked Bollywood (good for us), came motorbiking by and saw we needed help. Breakdowns are extremely common, and they had a repair kit ready. It took about a half hour to patch up the multiple punctures from the thorn bush I decided to run over earlier. Kaizer and I held lights to the bike (as the street lights were out), while Shannon talked to some kids and Martha drew some portraits for one of the little boys. Since tourism is the only industry in Bagan, many of the children familiarize themselves in various languages. I talked to a girl who spoke 12 different languages...in french. I bought a set of post cards from her for a dollar. Most vendors sell hand made paintings, which we bought our fair share of. But they are incredible. So after the repair, we had dinner across from our guesthouse, had a few Mandaly Blues and called it an early night. After all, we were getting up for sunrise.
Kaizer had met a horse cart driver the day before and had arranged us two carts from Mr. Aye and Koko. We rolled out of bed around 4 to be greated by Mr. Aye, Koko, Lucky, and Rambo (the horses). Kaizer and Martha rode with the beetle leaf chewing red teeth Mr. Aye and Lucky, while we were with the young and quiet Koko and Rambo. Kaizer and his driver were chatting up a storm during the cold Bagan morning, while we stayed quiet, enjoyng the peace and avoided bug splats in our face. We had to have been the only people out. Roads were completely deserted, and the only sounds were the clanking of Rambo's feet. All the tourists must stay in New Bagan, which has more upscale accomodation, where as we felt like the only travelers in Nyaung U. We reaced our destination after twisting and turning down dark dusty roads with the silouettes of temples and chedis all amongst the mist. We were the first to reach the temple, and we climbed inside with flashlight in hand. I finally felt like Indiana Jones. We climbed a few flights of stairs in the dark to be greeted by the cool breeze that pushed its way across the Bagan plain. We sat and waited at the top for the sun to rise. Again, words cannot describe the feeling of being up on that temple, gazing acroass a thousand temples, with the sun rising above them all. It was like looking at a Nat Geo magazine, something you only see on TV. The near silence added to the affect, with only faint sounds of birds and wind in the background. The world had seemed to have stopped. No worries. No thoughts. Just beauty...
So after spending as much time as we wanted, we were ready to set off on a most excellent adventure on our horse carts. This was by far our favorite day, as it was so relaxing to just sit and ride throughout the deserted temples. It was only until sunset again, when we encountered the tourist buses from New Bagan. Sunset was not as good as the previous night, as it was much cloudier. It didn't matter, the relaxation of the carts and the nice breeze made up for it. Even by the afternoon, Koko was much more talkative. We obvioulsy talked a ton about football, especially Barca, and also discussed how schools run there and such. I was curious to see what a country such a Burma would teach students as far as world history or philosophy. I was not brave enough to ask him his political views. We had been warned that there are certain off limit topics of conversation with poeple, such as politics, the government, or anything bad that goes on. It is highly punishable. So after an amazing day of sunrises, dirt roads, and hrose carting, we ate at an italian resteraunt lit up by the nearby Shwezigon where we taught the owner how to make garlic bread. Though she baked a slice of bread with an actual pice of garlic on it, it turned out well, and told her to place it on the menu...i think she actually did. Again we went to bed early, for the next day we headed back to Rangoon for some Shwedagon action at sunrise.
That morning, we pretty much did nothing, except eat some free breakfast and wait for the matress padded pickup truck to take us to the bus station. I could have honestly gone the whole way on that truck. Yeah, it was an old and stained matress, but you could stratch out and feel the open breeze. Probably not too safe though. So Kaizer Shannon and I left Bagan knowing we would definately make it back to such an amazing place, as we did not want to leave. Martha was fortunate enough to spend a few more days there, as she was staying in Burma for a few weeks. Thus, we boarded our bus...sober this time.
We arrived in the confusion that is the Rangoon highway bus station around 3am. We drudged around until we found a little food shop where we had some khao suei and some pastries. At around 4 we grabbed a rickety cab to crab Rangoon's greatest site -- the Shwedagon Palace.
Kipling called it "a golden mystery...a beautiful winking wonder. As the setting sun casts it last rays on the soft orange dome of the great Shwedagon Paya, you can feel the magic in the air. In the heat of the day, the stupa glitters bright gold. It can be quiet and contemplative, or colorful and raucous. The Golden Dragon is the essence of Myanmar, and a place that never fails to enchant." The legend of Shwedagon is that two brothers wer given eight strands of Buddha's hair to take back and enshrined in Burma. The Shwedagon is said to have those hairs inside its golden bell shaped chedi...
Searching for Buddha hair, we arrived well before sunrise at the grand palace. We removed our shoes, and enjoyed some marble under our feet. We hiked up several stairs before catching a glimpse of the glimmering Pagaoda. The courtyard is surrounded by shrines and glowing Buddhas, with a neon vegas-like wheel around each head. I believe it is the dhamma wheel, which is the Big Man's teachings of the path to enlightenment. Anyways, they had me enlightened. The lights drew me closer, as it seemed like a vegas style wheel of fortune that I wanted to put a coin into. It was fairly crowded, with devout monks and worshipers circling and praying. It truely was magical. Everything was glowing in the pitch black sky as we circled with worshipers around and around. Monk chanting and drum beating gave me chills as I paced over the cold marble. We perched oursleves on a ledge, as we found the perfect place to watch the sun rise above the clouds and through the shrines next to the giant golden bell. Like most of these sights, words or even pictures really cannot describe what we saw or how we felt. We spent a good couple hours circling and just contemplating life aruond this magnificient structure. Finally, it was time to go. We snagged a cab back to the airport for five bucks and hung out at the Rangoon airport for a few hours before returning back to the Land of Smiles. But I felt that the real Land of Smiles was the one we were leaving.
Everything about Burma was fantastic: the people, the food, the art, the sites, the history, the lifestyle -- a perfect blend of a unique and wonderful culture...something you don't find traveling the same backpacker routes throughout the region. It's off the normal path of travelers, where you won't find a Pub or Bar street. You will get the historical sites in the day without the ping pong shows and mushroom shakes at night. You can go tubing and drink all the Beer Lao you can in Vang Vieng, or get buckets at Angkor What in Siem Reap and think that's culture...but if you want a real experience, go to Burma, enough said.
Lessons Learned: Burma
- Do not drink before a 10 hour bus ride
- Burmese roads live up to their expectations
- Black markets aren't so bad
- Barcelona is still awesome
- Do not accept butterflies from anyone
- Do not ride over thorns
- Don't walk under bats
- Beer from authoritarian countries tend to be the best
