Gritty and Spectacular

Bicycle taxi - unlike other major South-
East Asian cities, no motorcycles
allowed in Yangon

Gritty and spectacular, that's what we expected, and that's what we got. Gritty in the buildings rotting and crumbling in front of our very eyes, and I'm not talking about small unimportant buildings here. We have significant government buildings like the former courthouse and even some pagodas looking like their glory days have passed several decades ago and are now just slowly decaying until they reach total dilapidation. Spectacular...Shwedagon Pagoda...need I say more? in my opinion, words cannot adequately describe the splendor of this temple and its awesomeness can only be appreciated and realized in person. Golden and shining and so big you can view it from quite a distance and still gasp at it's beauty. The golden light bathes you and your senses so much that it takes several minutes and maybe hours to get out of the magical trance when you come down the hill. 

So wallowing in this gritty and spectacular spectrum pretty well sums up our 4-day jaunt to Yangon, Myanmar. Our first impression of Yangon in the cab from the airport to our hotel was that it felt like a return to Africa. Dirty, messy, chaotic, run-down...basically more of the same. So why did we choose to go there?  Our good teacher-friends from our Riyadh days had just moved to Yangon last summer and invited us to visit them since we were now ‘neighbours’.  Those three years in Riyadh represent a pretty interesting and intense (as in crazy interesting and intense) chapter of our global nomadic biographies, and any chance we get to reconnect with some of the people that shared this experience with us, we take. Also, we were told by some of our school colleagues that Myanmar, which is emerging from five decades of economic and political isolation, was an incredible place to travel right now because it was still not too “touristy”. With more relaxed visa laws and cheap flights from Thailand - a one-hour return flight cost us about the same as a taxi ride from our home in Port Moody to YVR, we decided that we could tolerate a bit of dirt and chaos for a few days. Turned out to be an excellent 4 days.

Beautifully gritty, or grittily beautiful

Even coming from Bangkok, when you walk the streets of Yangon, you feel as if you’ve been transplanted into a completely different world. Although you see a few construction cranes competing with numerous interspersed stupas jutting out of Yangon's modest skyline, you cannot help but get the impression that Yangon's development has stalled and is somehow still stuck on the side of the road to the 21st century, waiting for some kind of emergency road assistance. Culturally, it is still quite untouched which is great! Western fashion hasn’t yet been a big influence and many local people wear their traditional costume, the longhi, a plain or flowery sarong with a deep pleat in front for women, and a checked or striped sarong tied in a knot in front for men. Both men and women often wrap a colourful thin towel around their head in the form of a turban, or wear a colonial bamboo hat. Especially eye-catching is the thanaka paste that women and children apply to their faces, and sometimes their arms, in order to prevent sunburn and control the oiliness of their skin.

Selling betel leaves
at a roadside market.

After checking into our modest hotel situated right smack in the middle of Chinatown (the place to be!), we immediately set out to get the lay of the land and roam the streets to take in its day to day life. Even in mid-day, when you would expect people to want to escape from the heat, the streets were humming with activity. Pop up market stalls inhabiting the sidewalks were peddling everything from fruits, to raw fish, eyeglasses, posters, and of course lots of deep fried 'where-did-you-put-the-TUMS, dear?' street food, including Myanmar’s deadliest addiction – the betel nut wraps. Although used by women and children, these nuts are especially popular among working-age men, who chew these to stay awake through long hours of driving, fishing or working on construction sites. The betel nut gives people a buzz equivalent to six cups of coffee and is used variously as a symbol of love, marriage and a cure for indigestion and impotence. That's good. However, high rates of oral cancer are destroying the lives of many who buy betel nuts, often decades after their first taste. That's not so good. This time around, I chose to forego the cultural/gastronomical/intoxicating experience brought on by the consumption of a few of these wraps.  However, I did promise myself that next time I yearn for a good In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida moment, I'll go the betel nut route, chewing away to my heart's content...in search of a Woodstock buzz.

Shwedagon seen from a side street

As we made our way through the street side markets, it quickly dawned on us that we weren’t being hassled. No pressure buying here. Most vendors didn’t even bother to greet us. These street markets aren’t here for the tourists; they are the lifeline of the locals. Walking through the flurry of activity, we almost felt invisible, as if we just blended in with the locals...that is as blended-in as a 6ft2 shorts-wearing white guy can be while being surrounded by a bunch of scurrying 5ft2 sarong-wearing Burmese dudes. In any case, I loved the chaotic energy, all the delicious food, the bright colours, and especially the old brightly coloured decaying and crumbling buildings that stand as prime examples of what is left of the 19th century British Colonial architecture. Every little street, every turn, and every stall were an attraction in their own right. The warmth and hospitality of the Burmese, from the taxi drivers, market ladies, attendants at the hotel, all enchanted us. Soft-spoken and nearly always smiling, they went out of their way to please, while at the same time being very careful not to impose. The people in Myanmar are a refreshing burst of energy, they are so thrilled to interact with foreigners and have not yet been saddled with the burden of associating us with money like in many other Southeast Asian countries.

And that was only our first day...