After the Moser sisters took Thailand for 2.5 weeks and had a very merry time (minus some nasty food poisoning) this cat ventured on a solo trip to Burma. Thailand was lovely and just what I needed after 5 months living Deshi style, but now I feel moved to write about Burma and what I feel was a special, interesting, and somewhat complicated experience there.
Why am I calling it Burma, and not Myanmar? To be honest, I really don't know! "Myanmar" is the name given to the country by the military-led regime. "Burma," as is used by most Western free media publications, is the name people use when they don't want to recognize the legitimacy of that regime. Or at least that's my understanding. I found that most Burmese people I met still call the country Myanmar. As do the AUW students - that was the name for their home country with which they grew up. Mostly I use "Burma" because it's easier to pronounce.
Tourists have been flocking to Burma ever since its government made some important moves to open the country up last year, so now is the time to go! Hurry! Times will soon be a'changin there, I'm sure. What mostly impressed me about Burma was how much I felt I was really getting to see the people's lives. Burmese are very friendly and very welcoming of visitors, and mostly in a non-hassling way. Much like my experience in Taiwan, I felt the people genuinely appreciated me visiting and recognizing their country. And unlike my experience in Bangladesh, I did not feel that the people viewed me suspiciously or were trying to "get something" out of their interactions with me. It was refreshing.
I flew into Yangon from Bangkok (my new favorite city, Katherine Moser agrees!). The flight is only about an hour long. Even though Bangladesh and Burma share a border, it is not possible to do a land crossing at this time. But it was convenient for me as I was already in Thailand, and I managed to - easily - get a visa from the consulate in Bangkok.
The first sign that there would be complications - aka that I did not do enough research - occurred as soon as I landed and tried to exchange $100 for Burmese Kyat (pronounced "chaat"). The woman handed me back the bill and said it would not be accepted because there was a small mark on it. Airport bureaucracy, I figured, and took the ride to my guesthouse. But then it snowballed.
In Burma you basically have to use USD to pay for all guesthouses and plane tickets in-country. Hotels and flights cannot be booked online, and there are no ATMs from which to withdraw Kyats (which you use to pay for all smaller expenses). So you basically have to bring enough USD on you to fund your whole trip. (Yes, it's a bit terrifying to be traveling with a wad of cash.) I brought plenty, but my epic mistake was not bringing dolla billz in MINT condition. My money was considered "dirty" and "old" and even when I arrived at my guesthouse I experienced much anxiety as I waited to see if they would accept the cash for my one night's stay and for all my in-country flights. I "passed a dangerous time" (taken from a student's email to me, when she explained how she did not save the final draft of her paper the night before it was due and had to rewrite it the morning of) but ultimately through the kindness of the guesthouse folk, the money was accepted. If it hadn't been, my trip would have been donezo before it even started. Whew!
After venturing to a large market at the advice of my guesthouse to do a shady money exchange with jewelry counter men (I had to accept a lower rate for my "old" money, but so it goes) I was feeling more confident that the trip might actually happen and started to enjoy being there. My first impression of Yangon was that it was a bit more developing than I initially thought. I don't think I initially thought much, really. The streets actually looked quite similar to the ones in Chittagong; they were fairly dirty with small shops (no 7-Elevens!) and even some tri-shaws (rickshaws with three wheels) rolling about. Then men and women both wore long skirts called longhis (men here wear the same, but much shorter!). A big difference from the super development and short shorts I had just experienced in Thailand.
The one thing that clued me off that I was not in Chittagong, though, was that so many people were missing. If I didn't realize before how overpopulated Bangladesh is, I did then. Yangon's streets felt almost empty.
As I left the bustling market, full of vendors selling beautiful jade pieces, I bought a few slices of durian fruit to enjoy back at the guesthouse. The creamy, pungent, garlicy, mangoey fruit was too much after only a few bites, though, even though I've had and enjoyed durian before. Probs cause the other one came from a Vietnamese store in Baton Rouge and had had months in a freezer to lose some of its pungency. LOL.
And because the Trojan family spans the world, that night I was able to meet up with a USC friend who was doing language classes in Yangon for her winter break from grad school. And, as a bonus, I met several other Trojans who were from/working in Yangon too. We ended the night with a stop at a corner noodle shop where we were the only foreigners (and women). Great times.
Andd that's only my first few hours in Burma. Apparently I have alot to say! Tune in next time for the good stuff: peaceful temple-full Bagan and lovely Inle Lake.
Why am I calling it Burma, and not Myanmar? To be honest, I really don't know! "Myanmar" is the name given to the country by the military-led regime. "Burma," as is used by most Western free media publications, is the name people use when they don't want to recognize the legitimacy of that regime. Or at least that's my understanding. I found that most Burmese people I met still call the country Myanmar. As do the AUW students - that was the name for their home country with which they grew up. Mostly I use "Burma" because it's easier to pronounce.
Tourists have been flocking to Burma ever since its government made some important moves to open the country up last year, so now is the time to go! Hurry! Times will soon be a'changin there, I'm sure. What mostly impressed me about Burma was how much I felt I was really getting to see the people's lives. Burmese are very friendly and very welcoming of visitors, and mostly in a non-hassling way. Much like my experience in Taiwan, I felt the people genuinely appreciated me visiting and recognizing their country. And unlike my experience in Bangladesh, I did not feel that the people viewed me suspiciously or were trying to "get something" out of their interactions with me. It was refreshing.
I flew into Yangon from Bangkok (my new favorite city, Katherine Moser agrees!). The flight is only about an hour long. Even though Bangladesh and Burma share a border, it is not possible to do a land crossing at this time. But it was convenient for me as I was already in Thailand, and I managed to - easily - get a visa from the consulate in Bangkok.
The first sign that there would be complications - aka that I did not do enough research - occurred as soon as I landed and tried to exchange $100 for Burmese Kyat (pronounced "chaat"). The woman handed me back the bill and said it would not be accepted because there was a small mark on it. Airport bureaucracy, I figured, and took the ride to my guesthouse. But then it snowballed.
In Burma you basically have to use USD to pay for all guesthouses and plane tickets in-country. Hotels and flights cannot be booked online, and there are no ATMs from which to withdraw Kyats (which you use to pay for all smaller expenses). So you basically have to bring enough USD on you to fund your whole trip. (Yes, it's a bit terrifying to be traveling with a wad of cash.) I brought plenty, but my epic mistake was not bringing dolla billz in MINT condition. My money was considered "dirty" and "old" and even when I arrived at my guesthouse I experienced much anxiety as I waited to see if they would accept the cash for my one night's stay and for all my in-country flights. I "passed a dangerous time" (taken from a student's email to me, when she explained how she did not save the final draft of her paper the night before it was due and had to rewrite it the morning of) but ultimately through the kindness of the guesthouse folk, the money was accepted. If it hadn't been, my trip would have been donezo before it even started. Whew!
After venturing to a large market at the advice of my guesthouse to do a shady money exchange with jewelry counter men (I had to accept a lower rate for my "old" money, but so it goes) I was feeling more confident that the trip might actually happen and started to enjoy being there. My first impression of Yangon was that it was a bit more developing than I initially thought. I don't think I initially thought much, really. The streets actually looked quite similar to the ones in Chittagong; they were fairly dirty with small shops (no 7-Elevens!) and even some tri-shaws (rickshaws with three wheels) rolling about. Then men and women both wore long skirts called longhis (men here wear the same, but much shorter!). A big difference from the super development and short shorts I had just experienced in Thailand.
The one thing that clued me off that I was not in Chittagong, though, was that so many people were missing. If I didn't realize before how overpopulated Bangladesh is, I did then. Yangon's streets felt almost empty.
As I left the bustling market, full of vendors selling beautiful jade pieces, I bought a few slices of durian fruit to enjoy back at the guesthouse. The creamy, pungent, garlicy, mangoey fruit was too much after only a few bites, though, even though I've had and enjoyed durian before. Probs cause the other one came from a Vietnamese store in Baton Rouge and had had months in a freezer to lose some of its pungency. LOL.
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| The offending durian. Pretty sure I broke guesthouse rules by bringing it inside. After it sat on the windowsill for a few minutes the room had a noticeable stink! |
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| With my kind in Yangon! Photo courtesy of Anne Gillman. |
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