Yangon International Airport

Landing in Yangon was one of the  most memorable first impressions I have of any country. This golden structure came into view almost immediately and my eyes were fixated on it the entire time our plane taxied to the gate. Although small and simple, the international terminal of the airport was completed in 2007, and there are plans to expand it further. It has some interesting sights, such as an elaborate wall mural and a tall glass ceilings in the atrium. It was definitely a lot nicer than what I was expecting. 

However, this being Myanmar, the electricity did go out while we were in the process of having our visas stamped. When we left out of this airport to fly back to Bangkok, I realized there was only one restaurant in the entire airport, and it was expensive. $4 for a small glass of orange juice. That’s young capitalism for you.

GoodBye Myanmar

You will always have my heart

Last morning in Yangon. I have fallen in love with this place but it is time to leave. A few things I am really looking forward to about Thailand, things that only Myanmar can make me appreciate. I am looking forward to not haggling for a taxi, worrying about when the wifi will stop working, thinking about where I can buy toiletries and snacks, wondering if the bottled water has been refilled with tap water, or that ATMs and currency exchanges are closed on Sunday, or that the street will be too dark to walk on at night, or that I don’t have enough small bills to pay in exact change. This are things I look forward to not caring about.

In Hua Hin I came to the realization that I was not enjoying myself on this trip, even though I was in my dream country where everything was easy. Now in Myanmar, I have crossed into a new emotional state, in which I feel that I am enjoying myself all the time, even when things are shitty, even when the wifi doesn’t work and its hot and we have nothing to do, I feel like I am enjoying myself. Is it Myanmar that’s done this to me, lifted me up out of traveler’s depression? Or did I have to hit an emotional bottom before I could bounce back up? I'm not sure. Whatever it is, I’ve learned to love this life on the road. Though I still have my moments where I am afraid to leave the hotel, I have found a new sense of peace and happiness here.

- November 12, 2014

Photo Diary: Best of Yangon, Myanmar

The most haunting and beautiful city in the world...

Freshness Burger in Yangon

I am always fascinated by how global fast food chains adapt to local markets around the world. I have been chronically this through companies like McDonalds, KFC, and Starbucks, which originated in America. And others like Al-Baik from SuaidArabia, and now Freshness Burger from Japan.

When I finished my contract in Japan and left the country, I had no idea that I would ever be able to eat a Freshness Burther outside of Japan. Even less did I expect to find one in a back alley of Yangon, Myanmar. So you can imagine my look of disbelief when I saw that Freshness Burger sign atop something called “Culture Valley,” a mall-meets-arboretum. The mall itself is pretty sorry. A few foreign fast food joints, some local shops selling longyis and beauty products. They don’t seem to know if they are targeting locals or foreigners, tourists or residents. Capitalism is relatively new here. There’s a learning curve and we are witnessing it.

Upon entering the restaurant the staff greet you with “Irashemase!” – “Welcome” in Japanese. As typical of the over-staffing problem I see in Myanmar, we were the only customers in Freshness Burger but were greeted by no less than eight staff. 2 behind the counter. 2 in the kitchen, 2 talking in the bathroom, and two talking in a booth. Too many workers and not enough to do. Even if the restaurant was full I doubt eight people would find enough work to do.

The menu itself bore some symptons of assimilation. Among the items I’ve never seen in Japan were a grilled frank and carrot smoothie. I was also surprised to find cheaper prices in Myanmar. A classic cheeseburger with a drink and fries was only 6,300 kyats ($6.30). In Japan this would be at least 1,000 yen ($10). There was also free wifi, another rarity in Japan.

As for the food, the cheeseburger tasted enough like Freshness Burger in Japan, only I am certain they did not use real cheddar cheese. The cheese was white and tasted like the same blandcheese I have eaten all over the country. Since I can’t identity it, I call in “Myanmar cheese.” The ketchup was also spicier than Japan’s.

One reason for the lack of foot traffic might be their inauspicious location. They are in the back of the ball, with no front enterance, and facing a dump. Oddly, inside the Freshness Burger a “Fancy store from Korea” will be opening soon.

For having liked them on Facebook, I got a free tote bag. 

Free sausage that came with our meal as a promotion

Opening soon - in Freshness Burger!

A Homecoming: More Thoughts from Yangon

I will always love you

I arrived from Bagan by bus just after sunset, when I were trust into Yangon’s dark, dirty streets. Smog and exhaust from cars came billowing in thick, odious clouds through my open window. I frowned and tried not to breathe. Returning to the familiar streets of Yangon feels like a homecoming. I missed this city’s dirty streets and even seeing them in the chaos of darkness I only grewgrown to love them more.

Myanmar doesn’t try to hide its true face. It doesn’t section off the foreigner and try to shield them from the unpleasant. All around us are sights of the real everyday lives of real people. They crowd into the back of pick up trucks, pull up their longyis to piss in the streets, they chant into their cellphones and yell at each other from their car windows. And I have no doubt in my mind that all these scenes would be taking place ever if my eyes were not to view them. They know we need a little cushion, we need a little more comfort than the local is accustomed to, but they know were are here, and we have to accept life here as it is, in its raw dirty form. Maybe that is why I like Yangon so much. It’s honest. It is an adolescent city, afraid to grow up, but unable to go back in time. It wants the freedom of an adult but the lightheartedness of a child, and it has neither.  It is in the process of discovering itself.  Young, old, and putting the awe in awkward. Yangon is a city best loved for its flaws, its moods, its grievances. Gritty and glamorous. Charming and chaotic. Nothing gets hidden in the light of day.

I didn’t hear the woman on the megaphone last night. I missed her sorrowful voice. I know now that the song she has been singing night after night is a Buddhist chant or prayer, and that same melody rang out in the streets of Mandalay and on the dirt roads of Bagan. It seems that no village is without a megaphone. It seems no night spent anywhere in Yangon is without the cries of a distance chanting. No night here can pass in silence. And certainly no morning. But last night the streets of Yangon were unusually quiet. I longed to hear the woman’s voice one last time. But it will live in my memory, and on my iphone and in many stories I tell about this great and wonderful city. It has already changed in the week that we have been gone. What will happen after one year? Or a decade? Nothing stays still here. When I return, if I ever will, I am sure I will find it completely changed. Only in my memory will it stay this way, like a picture bound by a frame, unmoving and unchanging for all eternity. Though the picture may be immortal,  it only captured one second in a lifetime. A moment so fleeting, yet so immortal.

- November 10, 2014