From Rags to Riches in Myanmar

Rural life in Myanmar, their river is their bath and the place to wash clothes, and also provides them with food and water for crops.

From rags to riches, that is exactly what I witnessed as I made my way down to Yangon and the beaches of central Myanmar. I would say that during my travels in Myanmar, 70% of my time was spent on the backroads surrounded by rural villages and countryside. Here, life is very primitive and simple (hence I used the title “rags”) but that does not mean that they lack happiness in their daily life. Actually I'd argue the opposite. Village life witnessed from the side of the road and through my interaction might be titled as extreme poverty with few resources on which to live, but it was in these areas that I felt the most comfortable as a traveler because of the genuine heart filled personality of the locals.

Village houses in rural Myanmar

A grouping of houses by the main road

The bridge to a few houses on the other side of a canal.

Despite their very meager conditions, villagers in Myanmar always seemed happy and content with the bare minimum. And when I say refer to the bare minimum, that is even a bit of a stretch. Houses are nothing more than a roof, some without walls, others with only three walls and are as small as 3 or 4 square meters.  Privacy is a luxury, beds the floor unless they have a foldable mattress or some sort of bamboo pad.  Roofs made out of dried banana and palm leaves, raised on stilts if they are lucky to survive the wet season. It was common to encounter people here bathing in the streams or at a public water hole, which might be as simple as a big barrel of water and a bucket to be shared by all the people in the vicinity. Most families found a way to convert their living quarters into some sort of a business selling snacks or beverages, anything they could to make a little money. Close by was some sort of crop growing that they would all cultivate, probably one of the only sources of income for the people.

In a nut shell, the character of many Burmese is similar to this little girl

In the mountains from Inle Lake to the new capital city of Nay Pyi Taw, I had trouble finding a restaurant. Small shops were scattered along the way, but a proper tea house with green tea and meals were hard to come by. One morning I had to pedal 20 miles before I found a shop with tea I could drink to warm up in the crisp mountain air. This is unusual for SE Asia where food and drink is normally in abundance. Resources in the mountains in Myanmar were limited, making it feel as though I was really off the beaten track experiencing rural village life, which accounts for a good majority of the lives of people in Myanmar. As a tourist in rural Myanmar, they were always so curious regarding my presence, but never once treated me poorly. Never once did it dawn on them that I was a tourist and therefore they should treat me differently, charge me more, or take advantage of me in any other way. They were always willing to help me, even if it involved a lot of giggling.

No food stalls lining these mountain roads

Many of the remote landscapes in Myanmar's mountains

In rural Myanmar I was fascinated to observe their daily lives and have a profound respect for them. Survival is their objective as they are completely reliant on their own efforts in order to meet their daily needs. They build their houses by hand, they grow all their vegetables that they eat. Meat, I'm sure is a commodity but comes from the few chickens and pigs you seem roaming around freely. They might have a water buffalo to help with the efforts, but if not, they carry everything with their own bare hands, many times balancing things on their heads, or strapping heavy bags over their heads. If the road needs to be repaired, it is done all by hand. That means they gather the rocks, spread them out on the ground, level them with hand tools, and burn the barrels of tar that is then spread over the rocks. There are no bulldozers, no trucks, everything is done by hand. Witnessing their daily efforts were humbling. Their day is consumed doing everything in order to maintain a sustainable life up in the mountains. With few resources they depend completely on themselves, their family, and other village members.

A barrier to avoid mud slides, all done by hand

Road works, all done by hand

My company on the rural roads

Needless to say, I was in shock when I arrived in more developed areas, especially the new capital city of Nay Pyi Taw. About five years ago, the government decided to move Myanmar's capital from Yangon to Nay Pyi Taw, because of the more central location. Perhaps it is central geographically but the hub of activity remains in Yangon. My jaw dropped as I witnessed immaculate newly constructed 10 lane highways, skyscrapers, and infrastructure such as expo centers that looked as if they could accommodate events of many thousands of people. Oddly enough, the city is deserted with few inhabitants. I was repulsed by what I witnessed imagining the money and time that was spent to move the capital to Nay Pyi Taw, after observing the poverty conditions in rural villages. Just stop and thing about the money and effort that would be involved if all of a sudden the United States decided to move our capital from Washington DC to let's say somewhere central like Wichita, Kansas? With the money spent on the new capital the Myanmar government could have invested in the country's basic education system or improved the network of rural roads using the proper technology and machinery. It was appalling to witness and the reason why I chose hop on a night bus rather than spend the night and contribute to this economy.

Nay Pyi Taw, an empty capital

A empty massive highway, think it was an over kill?

Government buildings

Having cycled up the western central plains of Myanmar, I bused myself down to Yangon and cycled through the delta to the beach destination of Ngwe Saung, where I was also in for more surprises. In central and northern Myanmar there are a total of 3 beach destinations, one being for middle class locals and the other two for rich Yangonites and foreigners. I headed to the upper class beach because from the description of a 13 miles pristine stretch of beach with virtually no inhabitants, I thought I would find plenty of places to camp. Boy was I in for a surprise when I discovered that the entire stretch of beach basically belonged to a huge hotel compound and all the property was carefully gated and strictly patrolled. I cycled to the very end of the beach strip where the road turned to sand, and found myself among all the local village people who probably worked at the hotels. Their huts and houses were scattered everywhere and there wasn't one place I could put my tent and go under the radar. My plan back-fired as again I found myself surrounded by the “riches” of Myanmar.  Luckily I found a "resort" that would let me put my tent in the back corner of their property for a meager price, using their bucket shower to wash-up.

Definitely a tourist hub!

This is what the locals spend their time doing at the beach, taking photos of themselves

The average price of the beach resorts in Ngwe Saung go for about 80 dollars a night all the way up to 300 USD, and to tell you the truth, the amount of western foreigners is outnumbered by far by the locals. SUV after SUV with a Yangon license plate passed me on the road to the beach, which again blew my mind: the disparity between the rich and the poor in this country. It blows my mind as there is such an extreme spectrum. Here I had spent so much time up in rural Myanmar observing their simple and minimal lifestyle and now I was surrounded by extreme wealth among the very wealthy burmese. Here I had eaten three meals a day for under 2 dollars and at the beach, I couldn't even buy a fruit shake for 2 dollars. Amazing! Hence the title of this blog, from rags to riches.  Unlike western beach destinations, you won't find towels or people bathing in the sun on the sandy beaches.  No, the Burmese don't go to the beach to do that, they go there to take pictures, a status symbol, that let's others know they were there.  A few men were in the water in bathing suits, and the women that dares entered did so fully clothed or in a bathing suit that was completely covered up.  The sun was so intense on the beach during the middle of the day that everyone retreats to their resort for shade.  I found myself on a beach chair under an umbrella completely alone, which was absolutely delightful! 

The abandoned beach

Believe it or not, I can sit still, for an hour or so

My visit to Ngwe Saung prepared me for my visit to Yangon or Rangoon, as it was once called, the former capital of Myanmar. I'm glad I waited until the end of my trip to see Yangon, because, where as some people would see it as the norm for life in Myanmar, rural village life had become the norm and Yangon was something out of the ordinary. A bustling big city, that was actually quite calm and pleasant compared to other southeast Asian capitals such as Phnom Pehn, Bangkok, and Ho Chi Minh. For one, motorcycles are prohibited so traffic consists of a sea of taxis, buses, and bike taxis, making it easier to navigate than motor scooters. I also arrived on a Sunday and the following day was a bank holiday, so I think the city was calm in comparison to other days of the week. There was an ever-present essence of colonialism with the decrepit colonial style buildings that looked as if they hadn't been restored since they were built 200 years prior. Also remarkably noticeable is the confluence of cultures and religions all sharing the same city. There is an eclectic mix of Chinese, Indians, Myanmar, and a few westerners, and therefore on the same street you see a pagoda, there is also a Hindu temple, a cathedral around the corner, and a Chinese temple across the street. Yangon reminded me a bit of Penang or other cities in Malaysia with the cultural diversity and amicable relationship between all it's inhabitants.

Market goers, evidence of Yangon's cultural diversity 

A woman setting up her market stand, impeccably organized

A Hindu temple in the city center

A Mosque behind the ruins of another building in Yangon

An old colonial buildings in Yangon 

I'm not a fan of big cities and only scheduled a day and a half to visit. The noise, crowds, and traffic usually deter me, but Yangon was a pleasant surprise. I found a quiet guesthouse in Chinatown and found the downtown area easy to navigate. Even the main Schwedagon Pagoda is accessible by foot, making it a very friendly city to do on foot. Hands down the most enjoyable part of my visit was the food. I had no idea that Yangon is a foodie hub. With all the different ethnic groups it's no wonder. Basically my day and half here involved eating my way through the different neighborhoods trying anything and everything that I saw on the street. I would have needed an extra week if not month to do justice to the exquisite culinary offerings in the city, and I'm only talking about those that you find on the street food carts.......

Schwedagon pagoda, the main attraction in Yangon for tourists

The night market that lines the streets of downtown Yangon

With my visit to Yangon, my bike tour in Myanmar came to a close. I have thoroughly enjoyed biking this country even considering the more difficult circumstances involved with accommodation, the suspicious police, and the controlling government. I've developed a new appeal for traveling in a more undeveloped tourist destination making for more of a challenge and a memorable adventure. The daily life I witnessed in Myanmar is humbling. I have an incredible amount of respect for the Burmese, their work ethic, and their daily routine. After my month here, I'm again reminded about the perspective I gained after many months and kilometers traveling on a bike. I need very little in order to be happy and my standards and expectations are so low, that happiness comes from the most simple things in life and this, in my opinion, is priceless. Maybe you'd say I live like a poor person, especially traveling through Myanmar, but so be it! I prefer to experience a country as a local rather than as a king, pampering myself with frivolous amenities. I'm the happiest of people drinking a cup of milky tea and eating a fried pastry for a total of 30 cents. Dare I tell you the three souvenirs I bought? A burmese lunch box, the ingredients to make pickled tea leaf salad, my staple here in Myanmar, and their milky tea in sachets!

Stay tuned for a few more blog posts on Myanmar featuring their food, my accommodations in Myanmar, and a photo documentation of the country.   

A Red Flag Goes Up

“You come to my house to sleep?” The young guy asked me who was on his motorbike riding next to me.

“OK!” I answered without even hesitating. It only dawned on me 20 minutes later that I should probably ask him with whom he lives.

“Brother, brother, me.” He answered. 

A red flag went up. It seldom does when I travel by bike. Most everyone I encounter is incredibly friendly, helpful, and means well. They usually dowse me in unimaginable kindness and hospitality. Should I really be worried that I'm going to stay the night at a house with three men in a small village? I began to assess the situation while riding.

It seemed my day was all going to work out nicely after all. My plan to back track on the road I pedaled up to the mountains in the Shan state was all going according to plan. Earlier that morning, I took the train through the gorge from Hsipaw to Nawnghkio. It was a rickety old train that looked as if it was build a few hundred years ago that moved more sideways and up and down off the track than advancing forward. Never had I experienced anything quite like this. I was happy to get off at the small town of Nawnghkio where I had seen a small road that cut through and left me south, close to the Inle Lake region. The road seemed relatively flat from what I could tell on Google maps and appeared to go through several small villages.  

It's hard to see just how old this train is from the picture.  I've never been on anything quite like this before.  You could feel the train bounce up and down off the tracks and the noise was horrendous!

Talk about true business women, you will never go hungry or thirsty anywhere in Myanmar!

Not a recommended journey for those with vertigo

I started pedaling and was delighted by the scenery:rolling hills, fertile farmlands and very little traffic. This young boy had found me 10 kilometers into my pedal and I had 2 hours of sunlight left. My plan was to pedal until just about dark and then find a Monastery or a Pagoda to sleep. But this young guy had offered me a place to sleep, it would makes things a lot easier. Surely I could trust him and his brothers, look at where they lived. Everyone in the village will know I'm staying the night. They won't be able to harm me. I continued to pedal with him. He escorted me 30 kilometers on his motorbike. Obviously he was eager and excited to have me at his house. I thought we had arrived to his house when we pulled over to a large purple house on the side of the road, there were several people outside. “Your house?” I asked. It was his teacher's house he told me. We went in to visit.

The countryside was beautiful and the small backroad was even more peaceful

I could see the pride on Shin Thant Oo's face as he introduced me to two ladies who appeared about my age with several children standing by their side. It wasn't everyday a foreigner came cycling down his road on a fully loaded bicycle. In fact later he and his village neighbors told me it was the first time they'd seen a foreigner on this road. I guess that explained all the stares I was getting. They had me sit down and began firing off questions. Yes, it was an interrogation, but a most friendly one accompanied by laughing and giggling. Two sisters lived in the big purple house and both were teachers. One had two kids, and the other was single. From what I gathered, some of their students slept in the house as well. Their English was good enough to understand my situation, my travels, and my intentions to bike south on their road. There was an instant connection with them. The question surfaced again. “Where you sleep tonight?” I told the women Shin Thant Oo wanted me to go to his house, but explained that I was a bit worried as I would be sleeping with him and his brothers. They laughed and Shan That Oo blushed with embarrassment; he realized it looked a bit suspicious asking a solo woman to come to a house with 3 men. The women told me I could sleep at their house and in the meantime go to Shin Thant Oo's village tonight to visit. Problem solved and what a perfect solution. I went with Muyar Myingan, one of the sister's on the back of her motorbike and Shin Thant Oo guided us . The sun was setting over the hills and the colors were beautiful as we rode off on a small red dusty road up and over one of the hills.

His village had to be small if this was the only road to enter. Ten minutes later we arrived at a house, his aunt's house. It was a big house with woven panels for sides. They brought me upstairs and inside where his grandmother was, a 83 year old sharp and clever woman. I don't think she had ever met a foreigner before let alone been this close to one. As the norm goes when I am in the presence with locals, the group starts out small and then the people start trickling in, curious to meet me. I sat on the straw mats on the floors doing a lot more meditating and observing than talking. People started arriving every few minutes, cousin's uncles, brothers,......I couldn't keep track of them all. Muyar Myingan told me they all thought I was wonderful and so brave for traveling alone on my bicycle. I was overwhelmed and delighted to meet them and in awe observing their life. I started to feel guilty I had questioned Shin Thant Oo's trust. How silly of me to think this boy could have been threatening. His mother wanted me to stay for days, and was disappointed I wasn't going to sleep at their house, but I think I made the right choice as my bike was back on the main road and I would be in good company as well.

Muyam Myingan and one of her daughters, very friendly people

Some of the many people who slept inside the big purple house,......they just added one more to the list and it was no problem!

Shin Thant Oo and his family (Aunt, Grandma, and mother)  They never smile in photographs but as always happy in conversation which is ironic!

Incredibly friendly women delighted to have a foreign woman in their home.

This is the group of people that gathered in their home, although when I left there were another half a dozen visitors

After an hour or so of visiting and eating (no one else ever seems to eat, they just bring out more and more food for me) we headed back to the big purple house. This time I rode on the back of Shin Thant Oo's bike. He was glowing and was humming and singing the entire way back. My eyes were glued to the stars in the sky, what an impressive sight. The entire Milky Way band was glowing, not a bit of light pollution from down below. An incredibly magical sky. We arrived back to the purple house and I stored my bike properly and they guided me inside. At this point I was beat, so they showed me to the washing area, I took a plan and splashed water on my face, brushed my teeth and called it a night. It turns out Shin Thant Oo was going to spend the night as well, as he frequently does when visiting from University. He and the younger boy students slept downstairs on a long continuous bed surface, basically a big wooden board, and the girls were upstairs in two larger rooms. My bed was upstairs in the common area. A thin pad with a pillow and lots of blankets. This would do just perfectly. It was 8pm and I was exhausted. No one else was making their way to bed yet and the TV downstairs was blasting and some of the other girls were huddled together singing and reciting a poem or song it seemed. I went to bed within a few minutes, noise and all sleeping entirely through the night without having to get up once and go outside to use the toilet.


The next morning, I awoke to chilly air. After all, we were on high altitude plateau and this is what you get. The sisters were already preparing breakfast for the students and I washed up and waited with Shin Thant Oo and Muyar Myingan. They were preparing something special for me. We ate together and again, people started trickling in to see me. I do realize their visit is totally valid. A solo female white foreigner on a bike is quite a novelty, they have all the right to be curious and see this girl for themselves. Rather than ask questions about me, they were more concerned with where I was going. It seemed the road I was headed on was not safe. Usually I ignore the locals when they tell me this as they always seem to worry more than is necessary. The road on Google Maps seemed perfectly fine but they told me about a 40 mile stretch through a narrow gorge that descents dramatically with nothing around. They gestured guns and used the words "rebel fighters".  Now a real red flag went up.  From what I gathered, there are a lot of rebel fighters in the forested areas and the road isn't patrolled by police or the military, making it unsafe. They told me that no one goes past their village on this road and to truth, there was no truck transit on the road, meaning that it was not a major thoroughfare.  Yes, there were towns on the other side, but they were only accessible from the road's southern entrance. I was in disbelief. Surely I wasn't going to backtrack the portion I had pedaled last night?  How bad could this road be? If it were truly a dangerous road, where was the police? It was certainly interesting that I had managed to stay in this village without a single police or immigration officer stopping me. How could this be? Why had it been so easy? They told me the area doesn't have police as there are 4 military bases close by that patrol, but that the last base is just a couple of miles up the road and after that it is “no mans land” and no one from their village ever goes beyond. 

With a mattress no thinker than an inch I was out and slept all through the night for a total of 9 hours!

Muyar Myingan with both her daughters.

Breakfast, do you see how bundled up they are?  I put on my Goretex jacket to fit in really because I didn't really need it!

orn my Goretex in Myanmar

Three generations in this photo, Aunt, nieces, and great nieces, Shin Thant Oo is in the background on his motorbike.  The bricks on the ground are drying in order to start building another house

My plan had back fired! What to do? Do I ignore their cautions and proceed or back track. The latter seemed like such an effort and ordeal involving a lot of repeated pedaled kilometers and a ton of climbing. However, the more people I met the more faces of worry I witnessed as they heard I was going to try to pass on that road. It was true that there wasn't much traffic on the road and as I sat and watched the road that morning, no cars went beyond the last village shop. Eery! Some how in my planning, I had forgotten to ask people if the road I wanted to take for a short cut was safe.  I was too worried in the road conditions and the climbing involved!  After visiting their local monastery and a few more family members, I decided to hop on my bike and backtrack. I would ride to the main road where I had detoured, try to hitch hike the ascension, and then pedal down south of Mandalay and head up through the mountains on a different road which I knew other cyclists had used successfully. I said good-bye after an extensive photo opportunity and pedaled.

Luckily it was mostly downhill and I was amazed that the afternoon before I had pedaled so far and so fast. I was back on the main road in about an hour and looking for a big car to take me and my bike. Pick-ups are rare here, as a vehicle for personal transportation. All the pick-ups I see are local shared taxis, stuffed to the brim full of goods to be transported. No cars ever go empty on the roads here so I thought my chances of hitchhiking were slim. But to my surprise, the first car that approached was an empty pick-up. I didn't wait to hail him down and explained I was going back to Pyin-Oo-Liwn and asked for a ride. He seemed to be fine with the idea, so I loaded my bike in the empty bed and hopped in. Well, we weren't going to be fully loaded driving, but we did stop twice to pick up two other friends and headed on our way. I couldn't figure out what the three men were doing but they were observing the countryside quite keenly and looking at all the little developments along the side of the road. They were very thoughtful and gave me water and snacks. I kept my fingers crossed they'd drive all the way up the huge climb out of the valley and up to the next big town and they did. They left me at the top of the hill just before the toll booth and I got my bike down and began to pedal again. They had taken me 50 kilometers back, making my route for the rest of the day relatively easy going down a huge descent into the valley below where Mandalay awaited.

This time I would bypass Mandalay and carry on south. I knew there was a town about 70 kilometers south where there was an overpriced hotel for tourist called the Royal Orchid, thanks to Ian Mitchell's blog I had studied religiously. If there was a town with a hotel, surely there would be villages before and after with a pagoda or monastery, so I pedaled confidently thinking I could manage to find a place to sleep that night and avoid the pricey hotel. Although my route wasn't strenuous, I was tired and the sun was about to set. I couldn't tell exactly where I was on google maps and decided to pull off at the first pagoda I saw. Unfortunately the road was a lot busier and it wasn't so secluded. I wheeled into the pagoda, pulled out my translated note that asked if I could stay and the monk and a village women laughed and seemed to keep repeating this one word, pointing outside the sacred gates. So a man accompanied me down a small dirt road and through several narrow alleys to a big house. At first I thought it was a hotel, but then I realized it wasn't, maybe the house of the village head or a police officer. I couldn't be sure. But looking back now, I wish I would have gotten back on my bike and pedaled because I was at this house and under interrogation for the next 2 hours, well beyond sunset, making it impossible to go anywhere discretely.

The village pagoda, several of them actually

You can't visit a monastery or pagoda and not ring the bell for good luck!

I said good-Bye and pedaled back to where I had come from the day before.....

Man after man arrived and they were all curious where I was from, what I was doing and why on earth I was traveling alone. At first there was tension, but then that disappeared as a women brought snacks and the men wanted to know if I had facebook and I entertained them with some pictures. It didn't seem I was going to be able to sleep in the local pagoda, they laughed when they saw the pictures of me with the previous monks. An official police officer showed up. At first I thought I should be scared, but he was having a great time watching my videos on my website and trying to make phone call after phone call. Basically I told them I needed a place to stay because there was only a $50 hotel in the next town and I couldn't afford that. Phones were ringing right and left with the half dozen people gathered around. It wasn't until an immigration officer arrived that I actually had to get out my passport and they started copying down every word on my document.  Although they were taking pictures of mew, of course it never dawned on them to take a picture of my passport.  Inefficiency at it's best!

Not that I had anywhere better to be, but from what I could gather, they couldn't decide what to do with me.  An hour and a half had passed and the only progress made were the additional people standing around, only now the mood was rather amusing and there were plenty of peanuts and bananas to snack on.  They were baffled as to where I could stay for the night. I inquired if I could stay at the police station, and they just laughed. It was obviously that the police and immigration officers were starting to understand the predicament of a tour cyclists in Myanmar: long distances and few accommodations options makes for a challenging itinerary and unpredictable situations like the one in which I currently found myself. In the end, they told me they would drive me 15 miles to the town south, where there was a hotel . Yes, indeed, I knew of this hotel, I had read about it in Ian Mitchell's blog when he passed through. He said it was extremely overpriced and run down. I had repeatedly told them I couldn't pay more than $10 and they insured me that I wouldn't. So after about 2 hours of sitting around, eating loads of peanuts and bananas and trying to solve the problem, 6 of the men loaded me in the shared pick-up taxi that arrived and off they all carted me 15 miles south.  I was in the back with my bike, 2 police officers, two immigration officers, the village head, and another man whose ranking I didn't understand.  Normally I'd refuse to go in a car and pedal instead, but considering I had done a fair amount of back tracking today and the fact that they were taking me on a crowded main highway, I didn't protest. I was mostly in disbelief with how disorganized and inefficient the police and immigration officers went about doing business in Myanmar. If this were the United States, with all the encounters I had had with the police, they'd know all my life details from the last item I ingested to my average speed and the name of my first pet! These guys were absolutely clueless and seemed more excited to have their picture taken with a foreigner than the legality of the entire issue. I'm certain I will be a legend in their town and my story will be passed on from generation to generation!

For two hours they contemplated what to do with me.  I would have taken 2 minutes to help them decide!

I tried to tell them that taking a picture with their smartphone was less of a hassle, but it was useless.....Immigration on the left, police on the right.

It took us about a half hour and a lot of turns through a dark village before we arrived in front of a hotel that was completely dark except for the illuminated sign that read “The Royal Orchid Garden Hotel”. Here we were! I was curious to see how they were going to negotiate a room for me so that I didn't pay more than $10.  But to my surprise, or rather utterly appalled by their childish behavior, as if like a gang of teenagers who were trying to get away with some prank, the men quickly unloaded my bike from the back of the truck, piled back in, and sped away without saying good-bye or even taking another picture. Just like that they were off! A boy had come running out from the hotel and without even say hello, stated firmly $50! 

I laughed. You have to be kidding me,.....After all this I thought, I'm exactly where I knew I didn't want to be!  Exhausted and in utter appall with Myanmar's politics, I would have curled up on a park bench to sleep if there was one. I had no other option than to load up my things and go look for a place to hide my tent. I wandered down the dirt road in front of the hotel that was completely dark except for a few bulbs in front of a house. At the first house I came to there was a group of people outside so I showed them my note and pointed further down the road in hopes there might be a pagoda. They told me there wasn't. They pointed to the hotel and I told them the price in Kyat and shook my head. They stood there and talked amongst themselves and finally pointed to their house and said, “You, my house”.

The sign is about the nicest thing at the Royal Orchid Hotel

This was the house I approached in the dark. I took this photo the next morning after I had breakfast with them

I realize I should have hesitated or carried on, but I just didn't have the energy. I thought I could make them understand I just wanted to put my tent in someones yard, so I wheeled my bike up to their house. Here we go again I thought. It was completely dark and about 9:30 pm, I had no other choice but to accept their offer. Before I could get my bags off my bike they had me sitting at a table and started bringing out food and of course as with all my visits, the people started pouring in to see the foreigner. I couldn't figure out who lived in the house and who was just curious, but one thing was for sure, NO English was spoken. I was so tired and had no energy left I just went along with it all.

Then, with a lot of commotion, an older man arrived with impeccable English. He was here to get to the bottom of my appearance. I cold tell he was suspicious and wanted to protect his neighbors and was very uneasy having my stay with them. He asked me a lot of questions, very serious in his mannerisms. I didn't have the energy to be serious nor explain myself all over again. Although the tone became more relaxed, he told me that he was going to bring me to the Royal Orchid and I tried to explain I was just there and that it was too expensive. He reassured me that the owners were his friends and he would work something out, but I was ready to surrender regardless. I had no other option but to trust him. So after eating dinner with a million eyes on me, we wheeled my bike back to the hotel and he and his friend talked to a man, who seemed rather important, perhaps the owner or his son, and before I knew it I was brought to a room in a small bungalow. I don't know what the arrangement was, but I was delighted to finally have some intimacy and peace and quiet. It was 10:30 at night.


After a nice long hot shower, I curled up on the bed and went to sleep, laughing at the fact I was at the one place I wanted to avoid, The Royal Orchid Hotel! What an adventure! Did I learn my lesson? You bet! Choose your pagoda's carefully and avoid the police at all cost, they really have no idea how to help you!

PS. I stayed at the hotel for free!

On the left is the man who at first was so serious.  He turned out to be very nice and pleasant to talk with.  They made me a delicious breakfast

The crowd that gathered in the morning.  It turns out 15 people live in the house that I was going to stay in.  Like I said before, what is one more person when there are already so many people sleeping there!

First Impressions of Myanmar: Burmese Cultural Insight 101

Thailand on the left, and Myanmar on the other side of the river.  100 meters apart and a world of a difference

You learn so much about a country by crossing it's border, in my case, simply rolling across that dividing line from one country to the next. I like to go into a country without researching too much. I do however, plan my route some, but I don't want to form too a lot of pre-conceived notions about a culture and their customs before I start to witness and observe. It is my way of investigating:observe, find out, form opinions, and continue to refine them.....The famous inquiry cycle I use with my students when teaching mirrors the real world.  Once, I'm in the thick of it, deep in the country, I'm doing my research daily with every kilometer, which is exactly what happened when I pedaled across to Myanmar 3 days ago.

Immigration and police, ever so friendly at the border.  They are everywhere in this country!

It's as easy as the sign says!

Departing Thailand was painless, I pedaled 100 meters and was in Myanmar. I went to the foreigner building expecting a long line, but to my surprise, there were only two other older gentlemen in the office, and they were doing a Thai visa run. Two men handled my entrance, one in uniform in one in civilian clothes. Both spoke perfect English, enough to interrogate me in a friendly way. Are you alone? No group? Where have you been? Where do you go? What is your job? Looking over my passport and it's many stamps, they found my Myanmar Visa, stamped it, I smiled for the camera, and I was all set. However, I wasn't allowed on the road today. There is one main road between the bustling border town of Myawaddy and Hpa-An, the next big city 150 kilometers to the west and it is so small and narrow and climbs over a major mountain pass, it operates in one direction only on opposite days. The day I crosse the border an odd day, traffic was headed towards Thailand. Tomorrow, the road was open for traveling west. I thought about ignoring this and cycling on, but decided an afternoon to get some logistics sorted out in a new country seemed more sensible.

Since there was no one waiting around and these two men were plenty friendly, I decided it was my turn to ask the questions. Have you seen other cyclists? Where can I change money? What SIM card do I want to buy? Where is a guesthouse in town for foreigners? They answered all these questions quickly and to my surprise there was another cyclist in town, 3 others for that matter: one English and two Aussies. Their English was so good, I asked them if they would help me with basic Burmese for my little cheat sheet, and so they did and I even got so lucky to get a photocopy of basic Burmese as well. Just when I was starting to get the tones and pronunciation of Thai under my belt, Burmese is considerably different, even the alphabet, or so it appears.

After a good half hour in their air conditioned room I set off to find a hotel. They had recommended a cheaper one to me, although I didn't know if it really was a cheap hotel or they were trying to send me to their friend's hotel and give him business. And so my basic Myanmar cultural lessons began.

Priceless faces on these kids.  They are still shy with tourists and say "Min Ga La Bar" rather than "Hello"!

The People

You'd think that living in a border town the people were used to seeing foreigners, but they aren't. Foreigners, westerns and people with white skin, seem to be a novelty. Although they seem rather shy and humble, they go out of their way to say hello, smile, and say a word or two in English, usually “Hello!”, “Hey you!”, “Where you go?” They certainly are honest and haven't sold their sole to tourism, at least not yet. I bought coconut meat and I thought the man said it's price was the equivalent to $7, a steep price to pay, but I handed him the money. He shook his head, appalled, and realized he had confused the number 7 hundred for 7 thousand and gave me back the wad of cash. Had this happen in a country where locals are eager to make a quick buck off tourists, I think they would have taken the money and run!

I was the guest of honor at the Full Moon festival I stumbled upon and this women was so excited to feed me!

The immigration officer who advised me on the hotel really did send me to the cheapest hotel in town for foreigners. Later that afternoon, walking around, I found two others and inquired about their prices. Both were three times as expensive.

Women here carry things on their head, similar to women in Africa I've seen

Exploring the market, which I'd also say was much more primitive than any Thai market and consisted of a single alleyway rather than a network of streets or even a covered shelter area. There was a lot of loud music at the end of the way and when I approached it seemed like there was some sort of party. Indeed it was, the full moon festival, a young teenager informed me and they were happy to have foreigners participate which meant they treated me to several mugs of sugar cane juice and this sticky rice dish mixed with all sorts of energy laden goodies mixed in including coconut, peanuts, sesame seeds, and garlic. I wish I could have stashed some away for the following day's ride. During my first day cycling, I was given an energy drink and a liter of water handed out the window by two different cars. Watermelon stands line the road in this area and I can't help but stop every 30 to 40 kilometers, it's about 35C (100F) during the day. Every time I try to pay, they refuse money!

Can't get enough of my watermelon with the heat

Tourism

Myanmar has yet to be exploited by tourism which is what gives it it's charm. The doors have been open so recently that they are still so excited to see foreigners. However, the government is still uneasy from having so many outsiders in their country they have tight control on the tourism industry here, making for more of an adventure. I read the blogs of several cyclists, both of those unemployed on a global trek, and those with a bit heftier budgets , and their stories differ quite a bit. Those who try to free camp and do it on a budget have great stories to tell about escaping the police and border controls. Thailand had their fair share of border controls, but they were rather pointless and more to be seen than actually enforce. I passed maybe a two dozen in a months time, and was stopped at one, and never did they ask me for my passport, they simply wanted to chat and practice their English. In Myanmar, during my first day of pedaling, I passed 5 border controls in the first 20 km and was stopped at one, who took my passport details and wanted to know my planned itinerary both of that day and the month, basically. Towards the middle of the afternoon, I came across another border control and they also stopped me basically telling me I should “stay here, at nice guesthouse, tomorrow go to Hpa-An.”

So what's the deal with accommodation for tourists in Myanmar? There are hotels and guesthouses, and plenty of resorts, especially in the tourist “hot spots” and beach resorts. But in places that are more off the beaten track, they are fewer and harder to come by. The problem is, the government has determined which guesthouses can accept foreigners. Therefore, you might find a guesthouse in a small town, but they aren't allowed to let you stay. The ones sanctioned by the government are pricey and the hefty prices don't reflect any sort of added value, unfortunately, or else I would splurge! In comparison to the rest of southeast Asia, it is not uncommon to pay 25-50 USD a night for a basic room with a cold water shower, which would cost about 4 to 10 USD in Thailand or Vietnam. So why not camp, knock on a door, or stay at a temple? Basically it is illegal. The citizens of Myanmar are not allowed to invite visitors into their home, nor are temples, and those who do risk heavy consequences. Police and immigration officers wear civilian clothing, making it hard to determine who they are and where they are.

A very basic hotel for foreigners, for the same amount of money in Thailand ($8) you have a really nice room!

Infrastructure

Or perhaps I should say lack of. Just walking down the main street in Myawaddy, life carried on in much the same was as in Thailand. However, you step on the main drag and you are in for a surprise. Many of the streets in towns aren't paved, houses are in shambles, put together in a makeshift manner with any sort of material that could be found. In rural areas, houses are made out of bamboo, tarp, or dried banana leaves. Some are delicately built on bamboo stilts and look like a good wind storm would blow them over.

A more modern house next to an older run down wooden house

A typical house, one of many made from dried banana leaves.  I don't know how they survive the rainy season.

A primitive bridge connecting a river village to the main road

PArt of the one lane road I used to cross the border

Primitive (but charming) if the adjective that comes to mind. My initial conclusion that there can't be too much modern infrastructure here can to my mind quickly as all the products in the stores had Thai Baht price tags on them and were written in Thai. They border may have opened for foreigners recently but for commerce it seems to have been open for years with a steady flow of Thai products being imported. For instance the cars seem to come from Thailand or Malaysia, cheaper to manufacture there I'm sure. The problem is that in both those countries, cars drive on the left. In Myanmar they drive on the right, but they drive a car made for driving on the left, only slightly hazardous in my opinion!

Local Customs: Men in Skirts, Yellow Face Paint, & Bleeding Mouths

I know their proper name is a sarong, but I can't stop thinking of them as “man skirts”. A long tubular piece of fabric that the men wrap around their waist and tuck. Voila, a comfy skirt! Seeing a few men come out of a public restroom, I gathered they wear shorts underneath, or at least some. You don't see nearly as many women in the skirts, but 95% of all the men wear them.

The typical man skirt on these men at the Half Moon Festival making the delicious sweet rice

If the skirts don't make you chuckle then the yellow face paint will! Again, it isn't face paint, it is the whitening cream that is ever so popular in southeast Asia. This one has a yellow tint to it and is painted more deliberately in circles on the cheeks and nose, but some seem to bathe in it! Sunscreen is hard to come by because they go straight for the hard core stuff that is suppose to turn your skin white. Why is it that the darker complexion people always want to be lighter skinned and the fair-skinned people darker?

Typical Burmese yellow whitening cream applied to the cheeks and forehead, sometimes a dot on the nose....

I was caught off guard when I stepped out of the immigration office and talked with the first local. What the hell happened to your mouth? Are you bleeding? Do you need help? Did someone punch you in the mouth? But behind the mouthful of red saliva there is a huge smile, and then a disgusting and robust spat, and a red liquid stains the sidewalk. Beetle nut. I had been warned about this habit in Thailand, but never witnessed it during my travels. In Myanmar I have seen only a handful of men's mouths that aren't stained red. I've seen countless “bleeding” mouths now and I'm still startled every time I see it seeping out. Dentist would have a heyday here, so would Oncologists. At the end of the day it is basically nicotine they are getting form the Beetle nut. At first I thought I saw a stall with something sweet wrapped in a banana leaf, so I went closer to investigate as my mouth started to salivate. But when I saw the women brush on a white paste and fill it with bits of this beautiful nut cut up and folded like a small package, I gathered this wasn't a sweet edible treat. I watch a guy place one of the packages in his mouth carefully between his lower lip and teeth, and gathered it was the Burmese version of chewing tobacco, only it was addictive and stained their teeth blood red. The stalls to make the Beetle nut packages are everywhere, equivalent in presence to coffee stands in Thailand.

She's making the Beetle nut pouches

A beautiful nut before it does damage to your teeth

Money

I had recently withdrawn more Thai Baht than I knew I would need in Thailand, but I thought I could exchange the left over currency to Myanmar Kyat. Up until a year ago, there were only a handful of ATM's in the entire country. I went to the bank that advertised money exchange in Myawaddy only to find out, they didn't exchange Baht, only Dollars and Euros. I did have some of each, but only one 20 euro bill passed the “mint condition” test. While I was waiting in the bank, the employees were carrying handfuls of cash from one corner to another wall. Of course there were armed security guards with small pistols in holsters, but I still felt as though I was witnessing some sort of bank robbery. I had never seen so many paper bills in my life, it was shocking! Since my attempt to exchange money failed at a proper bank, I went to a “black market” stall, I had done my research. A man and his daughter had a small wooden table and a cloth over top with a calculator as well. I asked them the exchange rate and it was just slightly lower than what my currency exchange app told me I should get, so I proceeded. If I felt like I has witnessing a robbery in the bank seeing the stacks of cash, I felt like I was a bank robber when he laid before me two big stacks of bills. With no coins in the Myanmar currency, kyat, (pronounced chat) 1,000 Kyat is equal to about 1 USD, an easy conversion for all and many places will take dollars. This makes for an incredible amount of bills. They even have a bill that is equivalent to 1 cent! In reality I had only exchanged about 250 dollars but I felt like the richest person in the whole world with those hunks of bills in front of me. Uneasy and nervous, I quickly went back to my hotel and stashed the extra money.

The little black market stall where I converted Thai Baht as the banks only want dollars and euros.  Look closely and you will see his red teeth....

Boy do I feel rich, although those hunks of cash are equivalent to 200USD

The Land of Pagodas

Regardless of the direction you look, there is always a Pagoda whether it be up on a hilltop, balancing precariously on a rock on a mountainside, or in the small villages. Pagodas are everywhere, as temples were in Thailand, but even more present. Monks have also changed color, they are dressed in red gowns and never have I seen so many young monks. Buddhism also seems to be much more relaxed here in Myanmar. I've seen countless monks smoking cigarettes, driving motor scooters, chewing Beetle nut, and even drinking. Next thing you know I'll see one with a wedding ring. With so many pagodas, it's no wonder every-other-person I see is a monk, not really, but their presence is more noted than in Thailand, Cambodia, or Laos. As a result there are also quite a few monasteries, which seem to be the place to stay for tour cyclists to avoid the higher guesthouse prices. I'm sure I will experience a monastery, or two, on this trip!

Bago's impressive pagoda at sunset, the best time to go

The Golden Rock and a couple dozen more pagodas dotted the hillside

There are massive amounts of monks here, especially little boys

Technology

I spent my first hours in Myanmar wandering the streets of Myawaddy. It seemed every other shop was a food or tobacco stall or a mobile phone store. How many mobile phone stores does one town possibly need? I went to inquire about a SIM card, and it seemed as simple as Thailand. Basically for about $8 you get a Myanmar SIM card with about 1GB of data and cheap local phone calls and text messages, about 3cents a minute. I went for one of the SIM cards the immigration officer had mentioned and they helped me set it up. Internet wasn't working, so I left my phone there and came back in a few hours. The young man that spoke good English was no longer behind the counter but the women in basic English said “Internet no work today!” I was thinking, ok no big deal, so I asked, “What about tomorrow?” In her basic English, she replied again, “Internet no work this week!” I tried to hold back from laughing and just thought, Gee, couldn't you have told me that before I bought the SIM card, I just assumed the network connection would be working, after all, that is what you pay for......I took it with a grain of salt, no big deal, wifi does seem to be advertised everywhere, although the connection is incredibly spotty and works intermittently!

While walking through the local market, I saw a few local joints packed with people sitting in chairs. They weren't consuming anything, but rather glued to the TV screen. It dawned on me, obviously TV isn't a commodity not found in many households. Unfortunately they were watching some god awful karaoke session. Fascinating though, how watching TV can be a very social even in a developing country.

A quick makeshift way to widen a road in Myanmar

Roads

I knew going into this country, the roads were not optimal for cyclists. Many are in awful condition and extremely crowded. I experienced this on Day one. New roads are being built, but again, some of the road construction is so primitive and being done completely by had with little machinery. Rather than resurfacing and adding on an entire lane, they seem to work on a smaller scale, adding a meter to each side of the road, enough so that cars can pass one another on a single lane road. I didn't see any painted lines on the roads for the first two days and traffic was heavy. But what you don't hear in a picture is the noise coming from the road. They love to use their horn in southeast Asia, that I knew, but in Myanmar horns sound every second as if it is a ticking of a clock. Every time a car passes you, it honk to let you know it is coming. Do they really think I can't hear their load motor, some of the cars look like they are from the turn of the 20^th century! I had a continuous headache for the first two days from all the noise, it was relentless. To some extent it gives the country character, but I desperately wish the drivers went to the same driving school I attended. I'm thinking of making as sign for the back of my bike that reads: “Nice to see you too, but please don't honk.” Somehow I don't think it will help!

I don't know how I caught a restful moment on this road, it looks rather serene.  The dirt shoulder here will shortly be asphalted and expanded I'm sure!

The border road in "good condition". When I see vehicles like this, I'm glad I have my own two wheels!

Myanmar was an afterthought for this trip. I was originally deterred due to the tight government control which can make for an awfully expensive bike tour. After several encounters with cyclists and tourists headed to Myanmar via land border, I was too curious not to go! What a great decision I ended up making. The read adventure is about to begin!