Rangoon

My journey to Myanmar yesterday was an adventure in itself. A few things in particular are worth mentioning. First, I knew I was out of place when I realized I was the only one eating beef and potatoes on a flight full of Koreans who had requested the rice and seaweed soup. Second, on the same Korean Air flight I was given a complimentary bag with a toothbrush, toothpaste, and a cover for my eyes. I'm still trying to figure out why the airline also gave me a fresh pair of socks. Third, regardless of the motives of the airline, I wore the baby-blue stockings to keep my feet warm and I made a fashion statement at the same time. Fourth, a Thai cab driver drove me in circles at 1:00 in the morning to rack up the fare and then he had the nerve to ask for a tip when the ride was over. And finally, I spent a few hours last night sleeping at the Sanawan Palace Hotel in Bangkok. The hotel was a far cry from a palace, but for twelve bucks a night I'm not complaning.

A young monk approached me this morning while I was waiting for my flight to Myanmar at the Suvarnabhumi Airport in Bangkok. A lot of monks in Southeast Asia enjoy talking to foreigners to practice their English skills, and it was a treat for me, as well, to be able to chat for a while with a Buddhist monk. The monk, named Pin Savat, was flying to Myanmar to spend two years at the “International Theravada Buddhist Missionary University”. He told me he was one of only three monks in Cambodia chosen this year to be flown to Rangoon to study. Savat gave me some packaged sweet rolls that he had bought and he insisted that I take them. As I ate the rolls I told Savat about my visit to Cambodia in 2006 and he spoke excitedly about studying the Buddhist religion, Myanmar history, and Burmese language at the university in Rangoon. As we got on the plane Savat invited me to visit him sometime at the university.
Meeting a few colorful people is inevitable while traveling. After arriving at the airport in Rangoon I split a cab into town with a forty-ish American guy named George. George flew to Myanmar from his home in China and is attempting to single-handedly help with disaster relief efforts related to the recent cyclone. He had with him a heavy-duty water filter and told me about his plans to sneak past the military checkpoints and travel South to the Irrawaddy Delta, where he would provide 70,000 liters of clean water to cyclone victims. George stared aimlessly through his Ray Bans as he told me stories of masquarading as US military personnel in Sri Lanka to gain access to restricted areas after the 2004 tsunami. George also had some interesting political views that I'm not sure that I agree with. I learned from him that the United States operates a sophisticated marijuana distribution cartel from the mountains of Hawaii, and also that there is already a goverment plan to assasinate Barak Obama in the event that he becomes president. Despite our differences in that department, I still think it's admirable (although a bit reckless) that he'd come to Myanmar alone just to help out. George's crass personality only made our conversation more entertaining. When I asked him if he could filter water straight from the river he responded, “I can filter a dead body full of sh**”.

After dropping my stuff off at a ten-dollar room in downtown Rangoon, I headed straight for the Sule Pagoda to begin my eighty days worth of travels. The Sule Pagoda stands 140 feet high and marks the center of Rangoon, the point from which all other places in the city are referenced. The pagoda is 2000 years old and is said to contain a hair-relic of Buddha. It's golden spires set it apart from the drab concrete blocks and deteriorating British colonial buildings that make up the remainder of the architecture downtown.
Pagodas are more than just a place of worship in Myanmar. I realized pretty quickly that while many people do come to pray and bow before images of Buddha, quite a few people come just to hang out. In Myanmar the pagodas are the ultimate people-watching spots. I passed by saffron-clad monks and women with faces covered in yellow thangka makeup as I gazed at the intricate carvings and the golden-clad stupa overhead. As the only white man I've seen in Rangoon besides George, I feel like I'm a bit of a novelty here. That's only magnified by the fact that at Sule and everywhere else I go, all the locals stare at me and smile.
One can't-miss spot for me in Rangoon was the University of Rangoon, where my Calder grandparents taught as professors from 1956 to 1959. A ten-minute cab ride was all it took to put me at the gates of the university. Unfortunately the facility was devastated by the cyclone and visitors are not allowed inside, but it was a lot of fun to wander along the perimiter and look through the wrought-iron fence to the buildings that make up the campus. Before leaving Salt Lake I visited my grandma and talked with her about her years in Burma. I've heard the stories before while growing up, but visiting the actual location and experiencing the local culture has really brought it to life for me. My grandma talked about Insein Road in Rangoon, where many of the dignitaries lived at the time. To me Insein Road seemed so far away and inconspicuous, even though I knew I'd soon be visiting the area. As I was walking away from the campus to a local restaurant I looked up at a street sign, written in Burmese as well as English. I noticed an arrow designating a nearby street and the text that accompanied it, “Insein Road”.
Lunch was a Burmese feast at the nearby Green Elephant Restaurant. A polite staff of uniformed Burmese men brought me lentil soup, a salad made of herbal leaves, red pork curry with steamed rice, stir-fried vegetables, and a plate of fresh fruit to finish it all off. Along with my meal I ordered an ice-cold orange Sunkist, which turned out to be very refreshing in the wet heat of Rangoon. I'm sure that very few people in Myanmar have the means to eat the “Burmese cuisine” that I had at the Green Elephant, but perhaps it's at least a close representation of the ethnic food of the country.

After crossing ten time zones and getting about three hours of sleep during the last forty-eight, jet-lag was really setting in for me this afternoon. I managed to fit in three more pagodas before I decided my mind was too messed up to realize what I was looking at and headed back to the hotel.

A pagoda called Chaukhtatgyi Paya came highly recommended by my Lonely Planet guide book so I decided to pay a visit. Chaukhtatgyi is one of the lesser-visited pagodas in Rangoon, but it's unique because of the massive reclining Buddha statue that fills the entire structure. I walked a hundred feet or more down the length of the Buddha and peered up at it's white face and long arms towering above me. The Buddha's colorful feet are a feature attraction and are covered with depictions of Buddha's ministry. One thing that struck me about Chaukhtatgyi was that it really felt like a place just for locals, even more so than the rest of the pagodas in Rangoon where I have yet to see a white man. Wat Pho in Bangkok has a similar large reclining Buddha, although that one is covered in gold leaf. When I visited Wat Pho in 2006 the place was absolutely swarming with foreign tourists. I can't remember if I saw even one local Thai while walking through it. It's funny that only a few hundred miles to the West of Bangkok the Buddhist sights are equally good, but they are absolutely void of anyone but local Burmese citizens.

Across the street from Chaukhtatgyi is Nghatatgyi Paya, which houses a massive sitting Buddha that must be forty or fifty feet tall. Nghatatgyi is much more lavish and better maintained than Chaukhtatgyi. I spent a half-hour or so wandering through and snapping a few pictures of the Buddha statue. I also watched from a distance as four young Buddhist monks moved from shrine to shrine in the pagoda to pay their respects.
The grand-daddy of all pagodas in Myanmar is the Schwedagon Pagoda, famous for it's towering, 330-foot tall golden covered stupa. I climbed a long, covered staircase to the giant marble platform that supports the main stupa as well as many smaller stupas and shrines. From the top of the staircase the main gleaming, golden stupa provided a picturesque backdrop for the for the monks and local Burmese following the white marble walkways below. As I circled the stupa I observed worshipers praying and performing religious rituals in the shrines surrounding me. At several of the shrines Buddhist worshippers dipped small cups of water into a basin and poured them over images of Buddha. The covered structures at Schwedagon contained large statues of a sitting Buddha and featured colored LED lights flashing in circular patterns behind the heads of the statues.

It feels a little awkward while walking through these pagodas to see so many people who look exotic and different to me, yet to watch everyone stare at me and follow me with their eyes as if I'm the strange one. Despite the awkwardness, I kind of enjoy getting stared at because feels exciting to know I'm in a place where so few foreigners come. After snapping a few pictures of a friendly monk at Schwedagon today, a Burmese man pulled me aside and motioned for me to wait while he ran to gather his family. Five minutes later the excited man returned with his wife, a small girl, and a couple of older women (aunts, perhaps?). The entire Burmese family gathered around me as a local tour guide snapped picutres with the man's camera. It's fun being such a novelty, but for some reason I didn't expect it in Myanmar. The photo shoot thing has happened to me once before, when an entire Indian extended family gathered around me in Jaipur last year, but it's still a surprise to meet people who are so excited to see a white person. I wonder if it's just that I'm white or I wonder if it's the blonde hair and blue eyes that does it. I guess I'll never really know unless I learn Burmese or Hindi sometime so that I can ask about it.Towards the end of my visit to Schwedagon a Burmese monk named Omkgaya struck up a conversation with me and gave me a comprehensive tour of the pagoda. First he took me to a shrine that corresponded to the day of the week that I was born on. Tuesday is the day of the lion and at the appropriate location I poured water over several different statues as directed by Omkgaya. Next Omkgaya took me to the edge of the pagoda, where we looked East over a long city street leading to Schwedagon. He explained to me that this was the street where the monks in Rangoon demonstrated against the government last September. Omkgaya said he was there when the state police violently broke up the demonstrations and beat many of the monks in the streets. Omkgaya also showed me a red scar on his forehead which, he said, came from a tree that struck him during the cyclone. To finish the tour Omkgaya took me to a large iron bell, which I rang five times for a religious purpose that he described to me, but that I unfortunately didn't understand in his broken English. He also dipped his hand in holy water and dripped it on my shoulders and head as he uttered prayers in Pali, the language of Buddha.
The events that I've seen in the news back home, such as the cyclone disaster and the violence against the monks, are very real here in Myanmar even to a traveler. Also, It's incredible to me how accessible the culture is here. In the other countries I've been to I feel like the locals are isolated from travelers. In those places everyone goes about their own business while travelers sit and watch. Talking religion with Buddhist monks, having a photo shoot with a Burmese family, and even just watching people who are watching me has made me feel like I've had so much interaction with the local people. The whole experience has been a lot of fun so far and it definitely has given me a better feel for the culture than I otherwise would have.