Bumping through Burma
By scott.poniewaz | July 16, 2006
Inle Lake, Myanmar.
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SEE THE MAIN BURMA IMAGE GALLERY.
I’m not quite sure which made me feel like I was stepping into another world first. The red, neon lights that said Yangon International Airport in both English and Burmese as I stepped off the plane, or the fact that the buses were from about 1970 and had either Chinese or Japanese safety notes written on them. The bus was second generation, something that almost every vehicle in the country is, if not older. The Chinese probably gave it up and therefore it was smuggled into Myanmar. The quick bus ride across the runway from the plane brought me to customs.
Okay, I’m actually here. Did I leave the newspaper on the plane? My camera gear alone could put entire families into a home and the children through college in the country, yet this is just a hobby for me. The last day of my trip, I would finally encounter a question that put things into perspective when man I would guess to be in his late 70’s asked me how much my camera was.
“$1,000 U.S.?” he asks.
“A little more,” I respond, and he asks again.
“$1,400 or so,” I mumble the price lower than the real price. That’s without the lenses, which would knock his socks off (I would estimate that at least $4,000 is what I carry on my shoulder when my bag is loaded up).
“That is some valuable property,” he says in broken English, “Hold on to it as long as you can.”
Little does he know that my camera will probably be obsolete in a few years and I will probably have to upgrade, meaning my 20D will be collecting dust just as my film camera is doing now. If the military regime stays as it is today, that 20D will be in a glass case tucked away in the depths of a market, just like the film that is in discolored boxes and well beyond expired, waiting to be purchased, but most Burmese have a difficult time if they try to own a camera from what a Shan man traveling with us tells me (his name I will leave out for his safety).
I enter the airport and am a little nervous and a little paranoid going through customs, as I’ve heard most foreigners are that enter the country. I have heard the stories and know that I’m hiding something, just as the military is hiding what is going on in the Shan state in the northeastern part of the country. My co-worker and I later have a discussion when we are departing Yangon that it has an eerie feeling that we can only describe as a psych ward out of “One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest,” or an old prison. The dirty, white walls and a balcony that runs the whole perimeter of the international check-in area, combined with the musky smell and a feint yellow hue cast across the dimly lit area make you feel like you’re checking into a place you may never leave. Contrasted with Mandalay’s airport, which is new, modern, clean, but still without computers (everything is on paper tickets and in cash) and sometimes without light even due to the rolling blackouts, which you quickly get used to in Burma.
As the lines move through, I realize that my line, one of the only ones with a westerner, is moving rather slowly; I am at the end of it with a German next to me and several Asian people in front of us. The rest of my group has gotten through customs and I realize that the German man in his late 20’s or early 30’s and I are the last two that will enter the country for the night. As one of the last two, I start to wonder if I’ll be pulled into one of the small rooms and have my camera bag opened, but I end up breezing through. I wonder how much the immigration control people really care who they are letting in though, they probably are only making a couple dollars a day, but it’s a bit frightening, considering our tour guide said that about one million of the six million people in Yangon are working for the Myanmar government.
Many do work on the side as well, for instance, while in Bagan, our group was dropped in a village and while they went in with our guide, I opted to venture straight down the road toward a small pagoda to have a quick look. When our bus pulled up a man on a motorbike with an army helmet tucked between he and a fence stops and looks around. It is not uncommon for government people to spy on foreigners and they are said to be pretty obvious about it, whether they realize it or not. As I continue to walk, poking my head in to look at people splitting wood briefly, then noticing a school ahead, I begin to hear a question that gets repeated throughout the country.
“Where do you go?” A small boy asks me.
I respond with my simplified, broken English, or Tinglish, as I have renamed it (Thai/English), “I just look around your village.”
“Why?” The boy asks.
Thinking nothing of it, except that it is a young and inquisitive boy that is about four or five-years-old, I say while I continue to walk, “Because I’ve never been.”
He tries to cut me off, and asks again, “Where do you go?”
“I just look around and explore, you understand English?”
“Where do you go?” he asks again, getting a little louder than the innocent voice he first asked in.
I then hear a motorbike whiz down the road and it just happens to be the same guy who pulled up on the motorbike when our bus arrived. “Where do you go?” he asks with his helmet still tucked under his arm, almost as if he’s trying to cover it.
I give him the same response and say that I wanted to look at the pagoda to my left. An open schoolyard is just up ahead and everything seems completely normal and I’m not trying to snoop around or anything, but I suddenly feel like there is something that is hiding and something I’m not supposed to be seeing. I continue to walk, trying to ignore his loud bike, until he turns the bike in front of me and parks it to my left. A fence to my right, but otherwise its just a dirt road, a temple, a man and his motorbike standing face-to-face with me, a man with a camera. He says there is nothing more down the road and I realize that it’s probably not something I’m going to be able to see. With a group, it is also probably not the best idea to get myself in trouble, since my job here is as a teacher. He has me stopped in the middle of the road, we’re both a little nervous with each other, because I think he knows I know something is up and he knows that something is up, then after an awkward moment of silence he says, I have paintings, would you like to see my paintings? I play along and have a look.
As he shows me his paintings, which are paint by number paintings he admittedly explains, we both loosen up. He tells me he has a younger sister he wants to put through university and we are about the same age and the encounter that brought us together is quickly forgotten. The same could go with many of the military I come across as I travel. I don’t buy a painting, but as I walk away, he makes sure I that I walk back, and then buzzes back past me the same direction he followed me from and waves with a smile.
The Myanmar people are kind and gentle people, but the military is rugged, rough and according to many reports, ruthless and one of the top countries in the world for human rights violations. In Pyin oo Lwin, a vacation destination, but also home to about 20,000 troops-in-training on the edge of the Shan state, you feel this presence a bit more. The area was developed during the 68-year rule of the British as an escape from the Mandalay heat, as it is tucked into the rainforests of the Shan hills about two hours north. Today, it houses the troops and therefore, is the area to pick-up used Myanmar military garments that the soldiers sell to make extra money. The local market has several of these shops that sell authentic hats, shirts, patches, even gun holsters and canteens. It is a little eerie to see a used gun holster hanging and think about what the gun that was housed in the green canvas could have been used for.
Though the military is a big bully picking on the Shan people essentially the same as the United States bullied American Indians, they aren’t as tough as they portray themselves to be. A man with us that towers over most Asians at about 6’7” had an interesting encounter with a few of them when he went to buy a notebook in a stationary store. He was surprised to walk in and find about 20 soldiers hanging out in the small store, but just went on with his own shopping. As he stood there, a few of the soldiers took turns walking up next to him and sizing themselves up to the seemingly giant American. When the man walked up to the counter to check out, most of the soldiers had left, so the storeowner asks, “Where do you come from?”
“America,” the man responds.
“These men are afraid to fight your people in the future,” the storeowner says quietly.
An interesting choice of words the storeowner uses, it is a matter of when for these soldiers, not if. There are already a couple thousand U.S. troops sitting on the Thai-Burmese border near Chiang Mai, but these soldiers seem to know that what they are doing is raising awareness worldwide. While it is a volunteer army, many are so oppressed that it is the only way they can make money, but even still, the reason so much clothing is actually being sold at the markets is because they are not making enough money to live.
Beyond the shopping opportunities, there is also the waterfall area that was infested with locals drunk on rice whiskey celebrating a Buddhist full moon festival the day we went. It was okay though, it was entertaining and interesting all at the same time. When a person with us had been there before, it was only about five people casually having a picnic and wading in the water. This was hundreds, if not thousands of people with a day off from work pouring into the park and frolicking in the multiple tiers of the small waterfall and its pool.
Heading back down to the Inle Lake region, which rests beautifully against the backdrop of the Shan Mountains to its east, we take a day of relaxation. It is a quaint village, but also probably the most westerners we’ve seen our whole trip. We get a taste of Western food at a restaurant that prides itself as being the best restaurant in the area according to Lonely Planet. I must say, the pizza was kind of nice, since the last time I ate pizza in India I got minor stomach cramps, since it was the first western food I had eaten in over a month.
Speaking of food, even shopping for that matter, in Burma. Most people prefer the US dollar, as opposed to the Burmese Kyats (Pronounced Chaat). The government even prefers it for their airport departure tax of US $10. If you exchange at the government rate, it is US $1 to about 4 Ks, however on the black market, which is easier to do than finding a government exchange, it is about US $1 to about 1,300 Ks. So going down the streets with your bag of fresh US currency (The Benjamin’s are preferred and get the 1,300 Ks exchange, as opposed to 20’s, which get about 1,200 Ks exchange) and finding a man with a calculator that types in his exchange rate, then runs away with your money and tells you fifteen minutes, is actually a better call. From what I understand most don’t want to make off with your money, because they already have enough problems in their lives that they don’t want to create any more for themselves. Since you can’t use ATM’s or even credit cards in the country, except a few select hotels pretty much (which you need to give 24-hours to process as well) due to sanctions and embargos put in place by the US, UN and many countries worldwide, you need to bring the currency and exchange it yourself.
You can’t get western products in the country either due to the embargoes. Well, you can, but it will cost you. If you buy Star Cola, the Coca-Cola equivalent, it is 250 Kyats. A Coke is 1,000 Ks. Okay, not so bad, but either way, you have to pay to get your western products smuggled through either China or Thailand.
The homestretch…
Back to Yangon for a quick tour of the city, including the Shwe Dagun Pagoda, one of the Seven Wonders of the World. My second in just three weeks and in the next month, I’ll witness my third in just two months (The Taj Mahal two weeks ago and Angkor Wat in a few more weeks). Maybe I’ll have to hop a plane to Egypt to see the Pyramids since I’m over here! 
Shwe Dagun Pagoda, Yangon.
Shwe Dagun is built of pure gold and is said to house 8 of Siddhartha Gautama’s hairs, which were given to two traders that visited India and made offerings to the recently enlightened Buddha approximately 2,500 years ago. It is a mecca for Buddhists and travelers alike, not to mention plenty of people that want to practice their English. I had a man stop me and ask if I knew any of the people that he had met from America that had been kind enough to sign his notebook with their names and hometowns. About a dozen names and locations were rattled off, but as I suspected, I didn’t know any of them, though this is a small world when it all comes down to it.
As I flew back to Thailand that night, I thought to myself about how interesting it would be to live there right now and take in everything that is going on. It isn’t nearly as bad as the State Department makes it out to be. Sure you don’t have all the freedom to wander where you will, but unless you really are getting off the beaten path, you’ll be okay. I didn’t have my laptop taken and inspected, bags searched or intense interrogations. It is a country filled to the brim with beauty in its landscape, people and culture. I am just glad that I am able to see it before it gets inundated with tourists, foreign investment and anything else that destroy this amazing travel destination. I hope to explore this country even more as I live in Asia, the beaches in the south are said to be some of the most beautiful in Asia. Maybe in September for a “vacation.”
A note from Scott: Thank you for making it this far. Hopefully it was entertaining, but I apologize for the length. There are too many things to say about this wonderful, yet different country and even more that I could say, but left out to shorten things up. It is a country of beauty and turmoil and alleged human rights violations that include destroying villages, killing Shan people and forcing tens of thousands to flee their homes and country. For more information on the country point your browser to Irrawaddy News at www.irrawaddy.org. It is a news publication based in Chiang Mai, Thailand, since the Myanmar government censors their own media quite heavily.
Topics: Travel, Photo Galleries, General, Thailand, Myanmar |
2 Responses to “Bumping through Burma”
Comments
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2:54 pm on July 19th, 2006
Sounds like so much fun I’ve always wanted to travel through Thailand and India. Hit me up when you get a chance. have fun
10:25 am on July 28th, 2006
Again-all I can say is JEALOUS! The experiences you’re having now are more then most people can hope to gain in a lifetime-take full advantage of every situation. Keep in touch-I always look forward to reading about your amazing travels!