Colonial Glory or Wiped Out History?

April 10, 2011
Yangon, Myanmar

Aung San Market

We were greeted by a nice buffet breakfast (orange drink, toast and eggs) and made our way to the Aung San Market. Aung San is a national hero in Myanmar and is the father of the famed Aung San Suu Kyi (‘she who must not be named’ as we dubbed her to avoid any stares if we brought her up in conversation), who was kept in her home for many years due to her outspoken beliefs of the Burmese government. We did think about trying to make our way to the house, but considering the last foreigner who tried to swim across the lake was imprisoned, we decided against it (at least that's what I remember Brendan and Andy talking about.)  The market was pretty nice, set in an old colonial building with the standard wares for sale; however, we did come across a cool section with old relics, money and medals from colonial and pre-colonial times. We opted for a self-guided walking tour of Yangon which helped us uncover some of the history surrounding this city.

Independence Obelisk

Remnants of the past

In a country not necessarily known for its openness to other cultures, it was really interesting to see the city, especially by the river, littered with colonial British architecture. The capital was recently moved to a different city and what was surely once a bustling riverfront had sort of been left to ruin. Some of the immense and stately buildings were cracked or unpainted or had vines growing in and out of window lattices. Still it drummed up some pretty vivid images of how Yangon would have looked and operated in those times—you can only imagine how the colonial settlers lived in their lavish estates, so I guess it’s not a huge wonder why the government didn’t want to try their hardest to preserve that part of their history. We continued our walk past the Independence Obelisk, a large stone pillar in the middle of a park around which tons of palm readers were speaking of the future, and on to Mr. Brown’s Café. This restaurant had almost s 50s style diner feel to it and we were glad to find that our traditional Shan noodles and not-so-traditional smoothies were quite tasty. We continued our quest after lunch only to realize the heat and amount of walking had lead us to one conclusion: we needed a cold beverage and a cool spot to sit.

Colonial Architecture

Back at the hotel we quickly showered and packed up; sandwich in hand our taxi driver picked us up to take us back to the bus stop. You’re told to be careful about what you say in Myanmar and I guess, out of respect and not wanting to stir up any hard feelings, you tend to stick to neutral topics. However, it seemed that if you spent a little longer with anyone (i.e. the taxi driver) they really wanted to discuss the topics you were told to avoid; he spent most of the ride discussing his opinion on the government and supporting ‘she who must not be named.’ It’s strange, because after being in Yangon you don’t really feel like you’re in a place that has the government that Burma has, but when you get down to the nitty gritty it seems that they are just really really good at keeping things quiet. So, our taxi driver helped break a bit of the silence for us.

Burmese Juxtaposition: Pagoda, Mosque, Skyscraper

We arrived and Till, our new German friend, was waiting for us to hop on the bus. As I probably could have predicted the bus was not VIP as advertised and was seemingly made for the population of the Land of Oz. The seats were about as wide as my thigh, but I felt so lucky to have a seat as there were people sitting in the aisles too. I think my knees were almost in my mouth as I was having a fairly successful battle with the woman in front of me who kept trying to lean back (you know the battle when your knees are against the seat and someone tries to lean back so you push back a bit with your knees to prevent the recline.) Well, much to my dismay this tiny Matron of Munchkinland took it upon herself to literally WWE bodyslam herself into the chair causing what I thought was the end of my ability to walk. Were I in any other place beside one in which I was clearly being kept an eye on I probably would have said something, so I decided to just cut my losses. I managed to somehow wedge myself between the window, Andy and Frodo’s mom and slept for a bit. I soon found myself awake, dripping with sweat and largemouth bassing Andy’s shoulder; good thing a bathroom break was soon in order.

Our 'roomy' bus ride

The rest of the trip was fairly uneventful until 4am rolled around and we found ourselves at another pseudo-bus stop in Mandalay. Here we met Stephanie and a Thai guy with whom we all shared a tuk tuk taxi to our hotel; picture six people crammed into a Hotwheels 2-door and that was us-with our luggage strapped on top of course  The Sabai Phyu Hotel didn’t have our reservation, but they were able to get us boys a 4 person room for the night. It was pretty funny when we walked in and there were 2 twin beds and one double all pushed together along the wall forming one super bed, but we decided rather than think about it to just play rock, paper, scissors for which 2 would share and crashed hard for about 3 hours.

Mengalaba Myanmar

The next series of blogs are about my trip to Myanmar (Burma), with my friends Brendan and Andy, during April 2011. It was an amazing trip to a really incredible place and, albeit stressful at times, I think we would all agree we would go back again.

April 9th, 2011
Bangkok-Yangon, Myanmar

Streets of Yangon

The time Andy, Brendan and I had been waiting for was finally here (we’d only been planning for a couple months!) and we found ourselves up early and at the airport waiting for our flight to Yangon. We’d done a bit of reading up on Myanmar/Burma (we found that locals refer to it as both) but really weren’t sure what exactly to expect from our trip. We knew we had to be respectful and careful not to badmouth the government, but I think those are things that are quite common no matter what country you’re in. We’d also read that it’s important to try to stick to buying local things as much of the money earned by Burmese institutions goes right to the government. I was a little apprehensive as Burma has always seemed so foreign and isolated from the rest of Asia/the world, but to get the chance to tour around its fairly unvisited sites was really exciting!

We went through customs in Yangon at its seeming spotless and brand new airport (not what I was expecting) and all seemed okay. A bathroom stop was in order and we all had a chuckle at the sign above the handicapped restroom which read, Invalids—at least it didn’t say mungaloid which is a word we’ve heard more than once in Asia. We’d pre-booked a room at the Motherland 2 hostel in Yangon and were picked up by a cheery Burmese guy who loaded all our belongings onto a bus that looked like a hippie commune may have donated it. It was so nice not to have to hassle with a taxi or wander around looking for a place (plus it made going through customs easier as they ask where you’re staying.) We made our way through Yangon and I was very surprised at how developed and clean it seemed. I guess I’d heard and read a lot about oppression and poverty in Burma, but the main city was really quite nice overall, with manicured landscaping and various architectural styles.

USD 200 in Burmese Kyat

At the Motherland 2 we were allowed to get some of the free breakfast (BONUS!) as we waited for the staff to check us in. The check-in process is much more intense than other countries as the government keeps strong tabs on all foreigners entering their country. We exchanged some money (I think $200 USD got us about 160,000 Burmese kyat—sort unfathomable to think of that much currency) and got our things settled in our rooms. We walked around for a while and made our way to the ‘bus stop’ which consisted of some ticket vendors vying for your money and quoting you different prices for tickets. We soon found that prices were almost double for the Buddhist New Year and were even more for us because we were foreigners—the first of many lessons in Burmese public transportation. We wanted to head to Bagan first, but in the 5 min we took to decide if we should pay that much for a ticket the seats had magically disappeared (lesson 2). As such, we quickly switched our itinerary to head to Mandalay and bartered as best we could for a cheaper ticket.



Shwedegan

That afternoon we found ourselves at a really fascinating place: Shwedegan Paya Plan, a 2500 year old, massive Buddhist complex complete with 4 entrances at each cardinal direction and a Shwedegan (pagoda) covered in gold. It was tacky and gaudy with flashing Christmas lights behind various Buddha icons and what appeared to be an influx of pagoda-vomit, (ie someone just got the idea to build a load of pagodas and shrines and just splashed them around the complex grounds helter-skelter) but all this somehow managed to maintain a chaotic beauty with the towering gold Shwedegan escaping the mayhem into the sky. This place also had the HOTTEST tiled floors I think any of us had ever set foot on; we had to walk around barefoot and one second on these floors felt like standing on griddle. The red carpets helped a bit, but the only real refuge was sitting down in some of the temples which is where we happened to meet our monk friend for the afternoon.

Our monk started talking to us and said he wanted to practice his English. As he asked us questions, some of which we had to be a bit vague in our responses, we noticed little groups of locals sitting around and trying hard to make it look like they weren’t eavesdropping; this happened on a number of occasions during our trip. The monk lead us on tour of the grounds with our first stop at a big bronze bell; he had us make a wish and ring the bell seven times by hitting it with a large wooden mallet. Next we scurried across the open plaza in front of the shwedegan in hopes of not getting 3rd-degree burns on our feet, and somehow a man was kneeling on the scorching ground praying. We were relieved when we saw the next task involved water; we took water and poured seven cups over a Buddha statue, three cups over the King and five cups over a dog statue. I’m not sure what this water represented (my gut tells me good luck) but I don’t know if my lack of memory is due to it being last year or whether I had tuned out the explanation as I was savoring the cool water beneath my feet. Then we headed for a little physical activity where we lifted a heavy stone three times to ensure ourselves good health. Lastly, the three of us sat in front of the monk who prayed for us to an auspicious Buddha while we watched. He then asked us for a donation which caught us all off guard. We were kind of expecting it, but it got a little awkward as we discussed how much to leave (we were still confused about conversion rates) as he sat about 6 inches from us and waited. In the end, I’m sure the amount we left meant much more to him than it did to us and we did get a pretty cool tour through an otherwise unfamiliar setting.

Praying on the BURNING tiles at Shwedegan

After we gathered our shoes we headed out for more walking and, after realizing we were maybe heading outside of the ‘designated’ tourist area we decided to grab a taxi to the city center. It’s sort of an unwritten rule that as a foreigner in Burma you don’t wander to far outside the main areas of a place as you may be seen as investigating too much. It was quite interesting as we arrived and were greeted by another large Buddhist stupa which was surrounded by modern high rises, war-era cars, British architecture from colonial times and a mosque. A little bit confusing in terms of fluidity, but also really insightful into the past and present of the country. We got ourselves a Myanmar beer at a local beer shop and sort of took our first time to just absorb where we were. Again the locals in the bar listened in to our conversation which mainly consisted of our first impressions: it was interesting that seemingly everything was produced locally—we had seen some Coca-Cola and Fanta, but other than that there was NOTHING imported. There were no McDonalds, no chain restaurants or hotels, just local. Also, it is really common for one shop to specialize in one thing (ie the beer shop just has beer, the tea shop just has tea, etc.)

Our weary bodies brought us to Monsoon, which Brendan had read about in the guide book as being a top restaurant in the city. It turned out to be pretty tasty, but also a bit pricey compared to food we’d seen on the street, however, we had made it and survived our first day, so a splurge was welcomed! We walked back to our hostel in darkness as the lights weren’t necessarily working on every street. I didn’t ever feel unsafe, but it is strange wandering around a place at night, especially when you feel like anyone who sees you stares a bit longer than they should. We did make it back safely and headed to bed after some relaxing and recapping downstairs.

Words for Grandpa

Some thoughts I had after the passing of my Grandpa Harold last year.  An incredible and inspirational man who will always be loved and remembered.  Miss you!

O'erhead

By Nathan Fuller (May 8, 2012)

On wings adorned with pearl and gold

Soar high beyond Limit’s hold

Shadows cast make haste to pray

Bright shining light, guides the way

A smile, a flash, a glow of peace

A life fulfilled, gently released

To a great unknown that which we believe

Holds comfort and calm for those received

Find solace in angels, their heav’nly sound

Freedom of spirit, e’er ‘fore earthly bound

Yet here remains your memory strong

Of love and joy, Your life a song

A ballad so rich in depth and hue

Sparkling with whimsy of Spring’s morning dew

And I’ll forever feel your presence nigh 

As o’erhead you paint with cloud and sky

 

 

 

Memories of Grandpa

By Nathan Fuller (May 8, 2012)

I remember you told me

At the ripe age of 4

I sang ‘Away in a Manger’

Like you’d never heard before

 

And from then on I knew

You’d be there by my side

A supporter, cheerleader

Arms open wide

 

And no matter my passion

My mission, my vice

You loved me and gave me

The world’s best advice

 

You taught me the meaning

Of kindness and giving

That the secret of life

Isn’t waiting, but living

 

From trips to the North

Filled with nature and peace

And Phantom of the Opera

And catch and release

 

To the trips in the South

Filled with the whole family in tow

And Divinity, Frontier and Christmas trees

And luminarias aglow

 

The time that we spent

I will never forget

I will cherish each moment

Each hug and each kiss

 

Grandpa I love you

And you can be sure

I can only hope to aspire

To be the man that you were

Odes to travelling

Thoughts on a Train

(written March 9, 2012 with my feet hanging off the side of a train in the mountains from Kandy to Ella, Sri Lanka--inspired by the scenery and the Sri Lankan flag)

Verdant hills, the richest hue

Mountain streams their paths askew,

High above with currents flowing

Crisp and cool as fair winds blowing

Breezes whisper tales of orange and red,

Of war and passion and blood drops shed,

Ancient kingdoms brought to life

Through hidden secrets, through dreams at night

As stars, they guide through pasts untold

Til dawn gently warms you with tales of gold

Of riches vast and pride unwav'ring

With cinnamon air and spicy savoring

Rays of sun, lighting paths unseen

Weaving then and now into tales of green

Of peace and hope from hands that toil

Rising fresh, renewed from fertile soil

From the fragrant plains to the salty beach

To the tallest points where clouds find peace,

One feels it beat as waves onshore

The pulse of the land, like a lion's roar

Top of the World

(written March 12, 2012 to the beat of the waves at sunset on Unawatuna Beach, Sri Lanka--inspired by a pensive sit, alone at the top of Ella Rock in Ella, Sri Lanka)

The top of the world

Or so it seems

A place for clarity,

For endless dreams

But as clouds roll in

I want to scream

To yell and shout

Yet remain unseen

The outside bright,

amused, complete,

The inside fight,

confused, defeat,

Beware the cracks

A secret leaked

A mask removed

A facade replete

Held tight by one,

A soft embrace

A gentle touch

A delicate lace

Still another pulls

But it's hard to place

From where the passion burns

When face to face

The first the life

You want to lead

The second, forbidden

Yet what you need

So which is the garden

To plant the seed

Do you grow what's real 

Or what's make believe?

Yet who's to say 

What's real or fake

Sometimes wrong feels right

And right, mistake

All's fair in love

The give and take

But it feels like war

When the heart's at stake

ANOTHER YEAR?!

If someone is able to tell me how it's already 2013, you'll win a special prize.  In addition, how has it been almost an entire year since I've last written in my blog?  It's been another whirlwind filled with ups and downs, new jobs and old jobs, new friends, trips home, visits from family, etc. etc. etc.

I have decided it's time to get back into this whole writing thing as I rediscovered an old notebook with tidbits from trips I'd taken.  I don't want to forget all the amazing times I've had over here and, since I'm not really the best at keeping in touch (a New Year's resolution), I figured this will be a way to get back on track and give some insight into my life that continues to be lived overseas.

I've had the chance to reorganize some of my past posts (look under the pages section on the left-hand side of the page) so that content that was related is all in the same place and in chronological order; I also put up some writings inspired by trips, but not necessarily about my actual day-to-day travels.

Things to look forward to in the next few months:
--FINALLY finishing my trip to Burma
--FINALLY writing about my brother's trip to Thailand
--FINALLY writing about my trip to Sri Lanka
--Updates about my last semesters at Satit Bangna
--Updates about my trips home
--Updates about my work life
--Updates on other random happenings that spring to my mind as I uncover lost notebooks and photos

Until then...