See food sea food.

The other highlight of Ngapali was the seafood.  Humble beach side restaurants dotted the beach with kept promises of fresh seafood.  I had the best prawns of my life.  Several plates of seafood and fresh juices later, our combined bill was $10.  I think I could live there.

Ngapali beach is reminiscent of jimbaran bay, Bali 20 years ago or Cabo San Lucas during the same era.  The area is evolving quickly, I feel lucky we caught it when we did. 

Ngapali Beach

Best decision of the trip.

We intended to spend our time split between Bagan and Yangon, but realized midway through the trip that we had room for one more destination.  After scouring the lonely planet guide and digging deep into our adventurer hearts, we opted out of tourism and made a beeline for the beach.  

Negotiating trip changes, including flight and hotel 24 hours before departure is usually a bit of work, but it required a full. afternoon commitment, two moped ride, and many conversations with non-English speakers.  Until the end, we were not entirely sure if we would be allowed on the plane. 

As luck would have it, all plans went without a hitch.  If you are ever in Myanmar, add Ngapali beach to your short list of destinations.

After the dusty trails of Bagan, the bath like ocean of Ngapali was soothing.  The beach wide and generous and time immediately slowed to a delicious crawl.  Our intense pace of seeing everything was met within five minutes, and left us with the ability to relish doing nothing.

We walked on the beach, swam and ordered mangos and watermelon from the women walking the beach with baskets full of fruit on their head.  We got so lazy, I didn't even take a picture of our beautiful fruit lady (which I now somewhat regret), though I will never forget the taste of the mangoes.  

Again, it was a good reminder to build time for nothing into every trip, especially at a beautiful beach.  

Lost in translation

At our hotel in Bagan, the in-room directory highlighted a number of cultural destinations of the area.  Funny enough, whoever copy and pasted the highlights must have done so directly from the Lonely Planet guide and with no understanding of the English language.  My favorites below: 

Ko Ko

I have to dedicate a posting to one young man we met in Bagan. The most westernized of any local we met, Ko Ko was probably 22, brash and your typical tourist hustler. He had big gold rimmed sunglasses and a slightly tight, v-neck metrosexual shirt. His hairstyle was black with flaming orange highlights and styled like any current US boy band member. He was incredibly image conscious and would fit in well in LA, NY or other major metropolitan area. His English was excellent.

He was smart and inquisitive and as interested in mining information about western culture as he was in mining our pocket books to fund his sand painting drawings.  We spent an entire lunch chatting with him while he pitched artwork to us and we were struck by what he symbolized.

Ko Ko was the perfect embodiment of the changes that the Myanmar culture seems to be undergoing. On the one hand, he was everything Myanmar people are known for; friendly, quick with a smile, willing to help and eager to talk about their land. On the other hand, he had clearly embraced (and was striving for) a very western life. The boy band hair and sunglasses (sorry world), the iPhone, non-traditional dress, conveyed his image and his desire to move to Australia, where and he was determined to work in his friend's restaurant and not "eat chicken" his whole life. And by "eat chicken" he meant that he wanted to date many Australian women and enjoy the variety of life.

While we thought we had him pegged initially as a self-serving hustler, we later ran into him when Rhonda's scooter had died on the side of the road at night.  While I went for help, Ko Ko saw Rhonda, tried to get the scooter started, and when he couldn't, he stayed and chatted with her until help arrived.  His Burmese sense of community and genuine sincerity were so evident, I can only hope those qualities don't get lost in the westernization of this country.

Manic for mopeds

The mopeds of Bagan deserve their own post.  Along the dusty roads and vastness of Bagan, you have few options for transportation - bike, horse-drawn carriage or moped.  For freedom, speed, convenience and good ol' American laziness, we generally chose the mopeds.  

Officially they are e-bikes, run entirely on battery power.  They are plugged into a wall socket to charge, with the appearance of a standard moped.  

Why these things aren't all over college campuses in the US, I don't know.  Myanmar is ahead of the sustainable emissions and energy curve, especially since they frequently pile a family of four onto one of these bad boys.  

We were simultaneously thrilled and terrified riding these nefarious contraptions.  No helmet, no observed road rules and no map meant that navigating the roads would take some iron will determination.  Ok, and sheer delight.  My driving skills have been called out by any number of people in a number of ways, but probably best summed up as anarchist. 

Anarchist driving works well in Myanmar.  If you want to pull over on the opposite side of the road, you just do it.  No u-turns, turn signals or other silly right-of-way measures.  Somehow, the traffic scene is a bit more fluid and just works within the chaos.  

The unpredictability of the e-bikes added to the emotional roller coaster.  On separate occasions, each of our bikes died on the side of the road.  When they didn't die, they could spontaneously break into cruise control at high speed until you pressed the brake.  The seats varied as well, with some that rattled and had a tendency to push into your most delicate areas.  Despite all this, we flew off the roads and onto the dirt trails, doing some serious temple off-roading. 

It was like we were sixteen, all over again.    

 My only note of caution to future riders, be careful at night don't get stuck behind a tour bus.  They can literally poop exhaust on you while you are trying to see a dark road lit up only by your flashlight sized headlight.

All in, I wouldn't trade the experience for the world.

Calm the nerves

"Don't fly after dark."

This was the sage advice from an Australian that has been coming to Ngapali beach for the last six years.  

We are on the same flight as our new Australian friend and it is considerably delayed.  The only way we know this, besides the fact that no plane is landing, is because they take a sharpie to a small hand held sign and write down new departure times every so often, then set the sign up, laying against a window.  

When I ask about flying at night, this nice father, who is traveling with his two young children, says that there are no lights on the runway.  Odds of something going wrong jump up considerably.  He then chuckles and tells us how a couple years ago, a plane skidded off the runway into the ocean.  Everyone was ok, but it took the locals two years to remove the plane from the water.  Until recently, every time a plane landed, you were accosted with a view of a half sunken crashed plane.  Not very good for the nerves.

As we line up, the agent lets us know it will be five minutes.  Since there's no computer or wallow-talkie I wonder how he knows the timing and I ask.  He points to the sky and a plane is emerging from the mists.

Oh.  

Fingers crossed, we are now on the plane.

Marketing with Gods

We have been flying around the country on KBZ airlines. The company's tag line is "flying beyond expectations."  A nice, slightly catchy phrase.  However, when you pair it with their logo of two deities flying, wings outstretched, with conical, yet aerodynamic helmets pointed skyward, the catch phrase takes on a whole new dimension.  Who wouldn't want to fly with the gods on your side??

On the flip side, given the safety records of the domestic airline industry in Myanmar, perhaps instead it means pray like hell.

Grasshopper Tours

There's no way to make this sound appropriate, but despite having a very sore bottom today, yesterday was a true highlight of the trip. We took a half day bike tour through the temples and villages of Bagan. In terms of background, there is one main road that we had travelled via moped, along with all the other tourists, locals on motorcycles, horse drawn carriages, cars and buses, that led up and down a stretch connecting the main villages and temples. I was hoping like hell our bike tour didn't mean riding that road the whole time, eating exhaust fumes and gripping our handlebars for dear life.

Luckily, my fears were proven wrong. Our guide was a well-spoken, wonderful, recently graduated university student, with a passion for cycling. Arawak was typical of the Burmese we've met so far in that he was open and gentle, patient with our questions and quick with a smile. He first led us through the morning market where he identified for us a number of previously unidentified items that we had been curious about (mounds of fish paste, turd looking food that was in fact delicious donuts, and others).

We then started on our bikes through, what he referred to,as the back roads. I would define them not as back roads, but sandy, dirt walking trails. It was awesome.

It was a tour of Bagan we could not have done without a guide. We wandered through tiny villages, where oxen and pigs were wandering the path and families were sitting in the shade carving house siding out of bamboo. He led us to an active monastery, which was from the 11th century with a 20th century open air hut behind it where three monks lived, prayed, meditated and cared for the monastery. We sat inside. Of all the temples I had experienced in Bagan, this monastery held the most presence for me. There was such a stillness and sense of devotion that was palpable once you sat still for a minute. I could have stayed there for hours.

We continued on and reached several of the main temples through the back roads. It was so incredibly cool.

As we ventured through more established villages, I wish I could have taken more pictures while riding. There were tiny shanty's with dirt floors and satellite dishes coming out of the thatched roof. There were so many moments where I wanted to do a double take but navigating the bumpy path and dodging stray dogs took most of my focus.

We finished up at a traditional tea house with a bunch of Myanmar snacks, dirt streaked faces, sore butts and sheer delight.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sent from my iPad

Down and Out in Bagan

I woke after wretched night, still recovering from the chaos in my body.  I desperately wanted to join Rhonda for our cooking class, but the thought of visitng the morning markets with the pungent smells of fish cake and shrimp paste made my stomach churn even more. She danced off bright eyed and I laid moaning and slept off my street food hangover.

In hindsight, I won't say it was a blessing, but there was a real silver lining to the whole experience. We had been going non-stop since we arrived. I normally would not take a day to spend at a hotel, but as I was somewhat forced to, I have to admit, it was decadent. For two hours, I lay in a chair in the sun on the river bank watching the fishing boats putter up and down the watery expanse.  It was a good exercise in being with the day versus seeking out adventure.  I should try it more often (minus the barfing).

 

Sent from my iPad

Wretched Sins of Passion

Damn you, street food.

I give you my love, my passion, my constant adoration and undying attention.

You return my passion with stomach upheaval in every direction.

11th Century Temples and 14 Year Old Boys

We made it to Bagan without a hitch.  The view is surreal. 

Temples peak out from the landscape like Hersey kisses at Halloween in Bagan. It's hard to believe the temples are all from the 11th-13th century. While Europe was in the dark ages, the king of Myanmar was introducing Buddhism to the country with grand sweeping, architectural bang. It's so impressive, I wondered why it was  not a world heritage site. Turns out, Unesco tried, but the Myanmar government did not want to play by UNESCO rules and chose to "renovate" temples their own way. Consequently, we saw lots of original temples with bright gold-painted tops and brand new Buddha staues inside. During a huge earthquake in 1975, many of the conical tops of the temples fell over and the Buddhas toppled over and broke. They were replaced with newer, better, and more gilded versions. No matter whAt rules the Myanmar government followed, nothing so far can take away from the mystique of these pagodas.

Within an hour of arriving at our hotel, Rhonda and I set off to explore them on e-bikes, electric scooters. We were quickly accosted by teenage boys selling paintings and postcards. Their English was decent, their knowledge of the history of the pagodas better, and best of all, they knew the location of secret staircases to the top of the temples. We negotiated with Zawzaw, a 14 year old boy with a gentle smile, hip hairdo, earrings, and a smart phone, along with a fervent passion for jennifer Lopez and Justin Bieber.  We came to terms and he became our tour guide. I plopped him on the back of my motorbike and we were off, the electric bike squealing in defiance of the additional weight

. 

We covered four or five temples, in which we received a in-depth cultural history from our "guide". I dare say, I would be hard pressed to find a 14 year-old American kid that could give an equally in-depth background of any US local, regional or national history.  Much less, in a second language. Zaw Zaw was an impressive kid.  The highlight of the day were the secret staircases and the freedom to scramble all over the 1100 year old temples, up to the roofs. The government is already closing down access to some of the temples and it's easy to imagine that it's just a matter of time before this kind of tourist freedom disappears.

We ended a fabulous day enjoying the sunset over the river from our hotel. It was a fairy tale ending until I woke in the middle of the night with what I will call Burma Belly😷.

Can I post, pretty please?

Tech challenged, my computer crashed along with all my posts and pictures from Yangon.  Hopefully, I can solve that problem and can post them later.  I have been in Bagan for several days with scanty wifi.  I've tried posting a few times without luck, though posting to Facebook is not a problem.  Am wondering if there is a censor here or if I am unlucky or hell bent on conspiracy.  Testing it out again.

LIfe is What Happens on the Way to Shwedagon Paya

We hit a few detours on our way to the Sweddengon Pagoda, the most famous site in Myanmar and the second most important religious pilgrimage in Buddhism.  On our way, we stumbled into another pagoda, magnificently adorned with mirrored mosaics and thousands of mini-buddhas lining the walls.  It was clearly a place of local worship with several locals praying inside. The sounds were beautiful between the conversations, chanting, prayers and sing songs.  We spent some time in silence in the temple and it radiated with devotion and compassion.  There was a lot of heart held in this temple.  I felt lucky that we decided to wander in.

Outside, there was a monk stoking a small fire.  Curious, I squatted near him to watch what seemed to be a spiritual practice.  Another monk joined him and smiled at me.  He held a pot in his hands that was surely part of this practice.  I couldn’t wait to see what magic was about to unfold.  With smiles a hand gestures, I convinced him to show me the inside of this enchanting mystery of the pot.  He opened the lid and showed me the rice inside.  They were cooking lunch.  They must have thought I was the strangest tourist ever.

We left the pagoda and decided we needed a rest at a tea house.  Again, we were entertainment for the locals.  As we sat down, we were surrounded by no less than six boys aged 9-15.  They all worked in the tea house and they swarmed us, eager to help and curious about us.  We drank tea and laughed with them, letting them look at our cameras and take pictures.  The Burmese are overall delightful people and with generous smiles.

We eventually continued the walk to Sweddengon.  The road was lined with decrepit colonial mansions.  Buildings that in their prime were stunning, but have succomb to the jungle and to squatters finding shelter. 

As we came into our final approach to Sweddengon, we stopped to chat with the nicest man who spoke reasonable english and told us our futures and personalities, based on numerology.  Rhonda was especially lucky because her birthday was close to Angelina Jolie’s, the fortune teller’s favorite actress.  He was 70ish years old and even acted out parts of the movie Mr. and Mrs. Smith for us.  He then showed us the numerology for Angelina Jolie and Hilary Clinton.  This was definitely one of our better stops.

Yangon, Myanmar. Street Food

Street food, temples and a side order of fortune telling and local conversation.

We left to explore early in the morning.  Immediately outside our hotel, in front of a large construction site, a small wizened man served us tofu pockets (think pita pocket but tofu instead of bread and bite size) with fried shallots, chopped peanuts, coriander, lime juice, sprouts and a delicious spicy sweet sauce.  Total cost, 20 cents and a smile. I about cried it was so good.  I almost cried a lot yesterday. 

Me, with my Myanmar donut and sweet tea.

Yangon is a bustling city with many street vendors, stray dogs, wandering monks and cars for all incomes.  Unlike many other developing countries, there are no mopeds or motorcycles on the road.  The rumor is that a General was once hit by a motorcycle and subsequently banned them from the city.  It’s a city and a country that is changing rapidly.  The people of Yangon have been so agile in absorbing the relentless push of western technology.  I spoke with friends who visited Myanmar four years ago.  There was little, if any, western influence and felt like a country in a time warp with no technology.  As little as one year ago, you could secure a sim card, but it was a lengthy, month-long process and cost $150.  When I arrived here, my taxi driver on the way to the hotel sold me a sim card for $1.50.  He had a pin in his glove compartment to pop open my iPhone and waited for me under the glow of his mobile phone while I ate street curry on the way to the hotel.  The country is changing so fast.  As we walked the streets during the day, street vendors selling the traditional lonngi’s were next to vendors selling ear buds and cell phone covers.  The juxtaposition of traditional and new is everywhere.

Rhonda and I wandered the streets and markets, which were a visual feast and a culinary delight.  Men and women pounded out impossibly thin lengths of dough that they quickly fried and topped with sugar or bean paste.  Hot, steaming, sweet, flaky pastry dough.  Cost 15 cents.   donut has got nothing on this Myanmar specialty. 

Street vendors

As we meandered past one offer the many alleys, licking our fingers, we noticed other stands with a multplicity of condiments and noodles.  The line of locals was long and they were slurping up something with gusto. 

We had to stop. 

It turned out to be Mohinga, the country’s specialty and most common dish.  We pulled up two plastic stools (sized for toddlers.  For some reason, in this country, the shorter or small the stool, the more preferable) and joined the crowd.  I’m not sure I can describe the ecstasy of the first spoonful.  Raman-like with noodles and broth, with crunchy bits of corn fritter and god knows what else.  Tourists are still not commonplace, so two white women with our knees tucked up to our noses slurping away drew a lot of looks and smiles. 

Mohinga, the national dish

We were so happy.

Regretfully, our bellies were now full, so we abandoned the street vendors and began to make our way to the temples for a dose of tourism.

Korea. Animated Figures, Royalty and Spicy Chicken

Layovers are underrated.  My 12 hours in Korea has come to a close and I am sincerely sad to see it end.  This country is fascinating and quirky and I can't get enough of my brief stay. 

The Korean government made a brilliant move in advertising free "transit tours" throughout the airport.  A transit tour is for passengers like me, with long layovers, just passing through.  They offer anywhere from one to five hour tours of Seoul and the surrounding areas for free.  The tours come complete with a heated bus, a tour guide, a few cultural stops and time for lunch.  It’s just enough to give someone a taste of Korea and a wanting for more.

But, before I knew Korea would jump to the top of my bucket list, they had me at the prospect of fresh air and  street food.

Here are some of my favorite moments and ponderings about this country.
 
Our cultural stops were all punctuated with animated characters.  I don't pretend to understand the phenomenon but I found it highly amusing. 

Entrance to a cultural park

A small museum dedicated to the distant history of the royalty and recent history of war and occupation.

Entrance to historical museum of royalty.  The Christmas tree in the background is bonus.

Drive by the police Station.

Police Station (notice the suspicious characters on the left?)

The traditional mall was my favorite place.  Best spicy, fried chicken I have ever had.

Spicy Fried Chicken.  Colonel Sanders take note.

  I got to dress like royalty and play "palace"

Overly enthusiastic geisha with the stone king

 So long.  I heart Korea.

Seoul Airport has Soul, or at least Great Amenities.

Blearly-eyed, I arrived in Seoul at about 5:30am local time for my 12 hour layover before headed to Yangon.  I haven't left the airport but I already love Korea.  There are lounges and comfortable chairs everywhere and people are sprawled out all over the place.

They dimmed the lights so it's far more humane way to sleep through a layover than the intensely-bright fluorescent lights and cafeteria style chairs at most US airports.  Not that I'm comparing (Miami is the worst). 

I found this slice of heaven inside the airport where there are free showers, massages, tours into Seoul, movies, and a hotel inside the airport that you can rent for 6 hours.  My layover is like a mom vacation.  So many decisions...

Bound for Myanmar, the country formerly known as Burma

I'm choosing between udon noodles and petite four sandwiches (weird buffet combination) in the Korean Air lounge at LAX and it's finally hit me.  I'm on my way to Myanmar. This is a country that I couldn't locate on the map four months ago and one that I'm still not exactly sure how to pronounce.

Some trips are all about anticipation.  Others are "in the moment" trips.  This is one of those.  I'd love to say it's because I'm mindfully in the moment, but in truth, it's because I just don't do advance planning very well.  For example, I only realized yesterday that while my friend Rhonda and I booked flights on the same day, they are 23 hours apart.  Lucky for me, she is in Yangon right now and switching hotels for us to one that is actually in the city in which we are going to, rather than a small village 40 minutes away.  

I feel like I have an on-the-ground travel agent.  

Hopefully, when I land in Seoul, Korea for a 12 hour layover, she'll send me the address of the new hotel.  Otherwise, well.  It's going to get interesting. 

As a side note, I LOVE the Korean Air lounge.  I feel like I've already traveled halfway around the globe.