I give you my love, my passion, my constant adoration and undying attention.
You return my passion with stomach upheaval in every direction.
Thursday, January 15, 2015
Wednesday, January 14, 2015
11th Century Temples and 14 Year Old Boys
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.
Saturday, January 10, 2015
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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 |
 | ||
| Entrance to historical museum of royalty. The Christmas tree in the background is bonus. |
 | |
| 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 |
Thursday, January 8, 2015
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...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)