How fast can a country change !
Back in 2008, a friend had told me he had visited Burma - now Myanmar - and described how he was one of the few tourists able to get around the country since a friend of his worked in the Indian Embassy and had thereby made special arrangements for him.
I looked up some reviews on tripadvisor and here is a sample of what some travelers had written
- the taxi I took from the airport to city center had a garden chair affixed in place of the front bucket seat
- when I gave a 5 dollar bill at the entrance to a pagoda, the first thing the official did was to iron out the creases
- the roads were full of potholes and they could be spotted from a hole in the taxi floor
How excited I was then for my weekend trip to Rangoon - now Yangon - and how sorely was I disappointed !
To be clear, it's a good thing that the country has changed. It is ridiculous of tourists to wish that a place is stuck in the past so that they can sample life from a different century for a week and then go back to their wired world. But my expectations were just that, and the place was nowhere close to as exotic as I expected it to be.
For a start, the airport was modern. I got off the plane using an aero bridge . Now that sometimes does not even happen in Mumbai, especially if you are flying India's best airline Jet Airways. I got into a cab far decent than one I would usually take in Mumbai, and the roads were smooth barring the occasional small pothole .
Back in 2008, a friend had told me he had visited Burma - now Myanmar - and described how he was one of the few tourists able to get around the country since a friend of his worked in the Indian Embassy and had thereby made special arrangements for him.
I looked up some reviews on tripadvisor and here is a sample of what some travelers had written
- the taxi I took from the airport to city center had a garden chair affixed in place of the front bucket seat
- when I gave a 5 dollar bill at the entrance to a pagoda, the first thing the official did was to iron out the creases
- the roads were full of potholes and they could be spotted from a hole in the taxi floor
How excited I was then for my weekend trip to Rangoon - now Yangon - and how sorely was I disappointed !
To be clear, it's a good thing that the country has changed. It is ridiculous of tourists to wish that a place is stuck in the past so that they can sample life from a different century for a week and then go back to their wired world. But my expectations were just that, and the place was nowhere close to as exotic as I expected it to be.
For a start, the airport was modern. I got off the plane using an aero bridge . Now that sometimes does not even happen in Mumbai, especially if you are flying India's best airline Jet Airways. I got into a cab far decent than one I would usually take in Mumbai, and the roads were smooth barring the occasional small pothole .
Traffic was reasonably disciplined , and some of the public buses were even air conditioned ! On the flip side, I did see more breakdowns per kilometer than any place I have been - seems like Myanmar is where all the second and third hand Japanese and Korean cars end up!
There certainly was a lot of the old on display. Most adult men and women wore traditional attire, women and babies had thankan - think Burmese sunscreen - applied to their faces . Chewing betelnut was still in fashion. But this was of life is on the way out, and fast! The most striking feature in downtown was the unbelievable number of mobile phone shops. Every alternate store in downtown was a mobile phone store ! On one patch of Lanmadaw street, I swear I saw 20 of them in a row on both sides of the road! Now it's understandable that a country that has just opened up would go nuts about cellphones , but it seems a case of overenthusiasm and oversupply .
The city reminded me a little bit of South Bombay - no, not the upscale locales of Walkeshwar and Pedder Road, but the colonial aura of Fort, the narrow crowded streets of Mohammed Ali Road, and the busy docks of Bombay Port.
Indian cultural influences were omnipresent. A high percentage of street vendors were selling samosas. At sweet shops, it was difficult to find anything that didn't look Indian : jalebis, pedas , gulab jamuns, kachoris, the works. Paanwallahs could be found at every corner. There were restaurants offering Biryani and chicken dosa. Main Tera Hero was screening at a local theater. "Fevicol" and "Munni Badnaam" were blaring out of cellphones. A Dalmiya Cements advertising hoarding featured a beaming Mary Kom.
On Saturday, I visited two beautifully restored cathedrals, a Chinese temple, a South Indian temple, a Bengali Mosque, a Jewish Synagogue , and of course, a couple of pagodas, all in one day, all within walking distance of my hotel. The heart of downtown was the Sule Pagoda, sitting at the middle of the city's busiest traffic junction, and surrounded by important colonial-era buildings including the city hall and the high court. The outside boundary of the pagoda was lined with astrologers and palmists, who ironically had listed their math and science degrees as evidence of their skills in forecasting futures.
The synagogue was a haven of quiet in the midst of the bustling food markets of the city. The Jews were a thriving trading community in British Occupied Burma, but following the Japanese invasion during WWII and then the military rule, only 20 of them are left.
I was quite impressed with the interiors of the St Mary's Cathedral. Both side walls were lined with stained glass images of the Christian saints, and beneath each of them was a carved relief of some event of Jesus' life. The exterior was recently refurbished and has an exposed red brick finish with white lining, which gave the façade a unique look.
But undoubtedly the number one place to see was the Shwedagon Pagoda: A hundred meters tall, predominantly gold plated, with a 5 ton umbrella including 500 kilos of gold , and topped by an orb with 1800 carats of diamonds including a single 76 carat whopper. Probably belongs in a list of top 10, if not top 5, most beautiful Buddhist monuments in the world.
The next morning, my first stop was the grave of Bahadur Shah Zafar, the last Mughal Emperor of India who was exiled to Rangoon by the British post the 1857 mutiny . As in the cathedral and synagogue the day earlier, I was the only visitor present. It was a simple grave, long forgotten and lonely, pretty much like the Emperor - also a poet and Sufi - in his old age.
Thereafter I walked through what was a war memorial - except I don't know for which war, as sadly there was no plaque explaining, even in Burmese, what the place was about and there was no one to ask.
Thereafter I made quick visits to two nearby pagodas. The first one contained a gigantic 76 meter reclining Buddha, the largest of its kind in the country. The feet were etched with 108 symbols, groups of which represented the three worlds. The other pagoda, across the road, had a beautiful setting within a swathe of green and had a large ornate statue of the Buddha. In the same compound was a Buddhist school where anyone could walk in and take classes for free.
The last stop of the day was the colonial house of Burma's independence struggle hero, Bogyoke Aung San. Situated in a leafy suburb which now includes the German and Japanese embassies, it was modest by a general's standards. It was no bigger than a upper class family home, consisting of a living room, a dining room, a master bedroom, a library, a meeting room, and one room for the three kids - the youngest of whom was Aung San Su Kyi.
A slight drizzle that was on since the morning had by now turned into a torrential monsoon downpour. I hopped onto a local bus headed towards downtown, adding a bit more local flavor to the trip. I got off close to the Sule pagoda and headed to a South Indian restaurant full of locals. A masala dosa here meant a potato gravy on the side and a dosa filled with green beans and okra! I cleaned one up and ordered another plain one to make up for calories burnt walking all morning.
By the time I was through with lunch, the streets were flooded. I couldn't find a taxi and though it was a short walk back to the hotel, it took a while as I had to wade through nearly knee level water at times. I had compared Yangon to Mumbai the day before, and Mother Nature decided to unleash a Mumbai-style monsoon mayhem on me! This was on top of two other mishaps earlier in the day: a careless step on a mossy floor leading to a harmless fall that nevertheless colored my backside green, and bumping my head straight into an ad hoarding as I held the umbrella too low for protection from rain.
As I headed back to the airport, there was one overwhelming thought in my mind: I wanted to see the world in a hurry, before every nation's national dress is denims and suits, and every corner of every street is lined with a Starbucks and a Mac.
But there was one more twist in the tale: the return flight was delayed by almost 7 hours! The incoming flight from Singapore had to make an emergency landing in Bangkok, where it took a few hours to fix the "technical problem". I read "Introduction to Hegel: A Graphic Guide" while waiting for the flight to arrive from Bangkok. When it finally did, I noticed a lot of the passengers were taking pictures of the TV screen showing the delayed departure time, to prove to their employers the legitimacy of the reason provided for being late at work the next day!
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