Wanderlust Heaven!

The other famous site is Shwedagon Paya, you’ve likely seen photos of this place. It’s huge – 326 feet high – and is really a small city with the zedi (spire) reaching up into the skies. Same sort of activities here. Hired a guide who was very helpful in learning about the place – and when it started to rain, as it usually does in Rangoon during the monsoon, we talked quietly about politics and he let loose about the insanity of the government. I could see Shwedagon from the window of my hotel – which was a nice introduction to the city/country. I’ve seen countless pagodas across Asia, including at Angkor Wat and in Kathmandu – and thought Shwedagon was probably the coolest and most awesome. I would even venture to say that it’s up there with the Taj Mahal in terms of beauty and calmness. Here are a couple shots of Shwedagon, daytime and nighttime:

Walked around the downtown soon after arriving – was quickly acquainted with Sule Paya and its environs, whereas Shwedagon is 3 km to the north and I saw that the following day. Downtown Rangoon is a presentation in contrasts – packed little streets and alleys with merchants spilling out into the streets selling everything you could ever imagine (except for firearms – only the military gets those!), hard up against British colonial buildings that certainly have decayed and have not been well kept-up, but which still are an impressive sight. Right across the street from Sule is City Hall, which had the same function in British days. I walked by that gold-colored building on a subsequent day and was (slightly) surprised to hear hip-hop music coming from the first floor or basement window. I guess working for the city isn’t so bad after all…

There are quite a few other colonial buildings still standing and in use. The High Court building is ostensibly still a High Court – but as the military government ignores the judicial function almost entirely, at least for politically-motivated charges, one wonders precisely what the hell goes on in there. There’s a Customs House, an Immigration Center, etc. And, of course, the famed Strand Hotel, made famous by Kipling and other cosmopolitans who criss-crossed Asia in the 19th century and hung out at the Strand, the Oriental in Bangkok, and Raffles in Singapore. The Strand fell into disuse after Burmese independence, or at least after the military takeover when General Ne Win said that “the Burmese people will follow their own way to socialism.” Socialism was finally discarded around 1990, and the Strand was cleaned up around then, I believe. When I walked into the lobby, I was the only visitor in sight. During the low season it’s pretty dead – although the Friday happy hour has half-price drinks and that tends to get a few tourists, including me a couple weeks later, into the bar. When you’re in the Strand you can almost feel the ghosts flitting around, the place has that air of history and empire. I found it both tasteful – understated and elegant – and a bit sad, given its prominence back in the day and its current status as a the most expensive and famed hotel in the lost city of Rangoon. Here’s a look at the refurbished exterior:

So the juxtaposition of teeming streets and colonial buildings is fascinating, to be sure. And the decay is in your face – the city feels half-finished and parts look like a bomb just hit. I’ve seen African cities and a few other former colonial cities around the world, all characterized by a lack of investment, and Rangoon was right in that pack. The interesting thing is, Rangoon is the junta’s showpiece and Potemkin village. Apparently in the late 1950s the elected government, hampered by various insurgencies and factions, voluntarily handed power to the army for 15 months, during which time the army succeeded in cleaning up the wartime rubble from Rangoon and establishing a decent rep for itself. Elections were held in 1960, but the democrats continued to struggle, and in 1962 General Ne Win and the army took power again, this time forcibly – and have never handed it back. In the late ‘80s and early ‘90s, the military government was understandably nervous about ‘people power’ and tried to spruce up Rangoon to curry favor – apparently the city did get a lot cleaner, but the government remained detested. It’s difficult to say how much the government is doing for the city these days – the people I spoke with were unanimous in saying that the government does almost nothing for them, that it doesn’t give a shit about Burmese people (and less than zero about the ethnic minorities like the Shan and Chin peoples), and that anything it does is either for a) money for the generals’ pockets and for military hardware, and b) to impress tourists and get them to visit, in order to provide a) above. I can see the Visa TV commercial now: ‘Life of an average Burmese citizen – zero; life of a tourist – priceless.’

I did feel like a celebrity almost everywhere I went. Not that many tourists visit the place – in 2004 about 660,000 people went, of which many were Chinese and other Asians doing business in Burma. I saw mostly Italians and Spaniards while there – new air links between Western Europe and Doha, Qatar just opened up, so it’s relatively painless to fly to Burma from there these days. Not many Americans or Brits seemed to be there. I wasn’t surprised about the lack of gringos – we’re too busy visiting London and Mexico – but the lack of Britons took me by surprise. Burma was their old colony…and Brits in general seem to make it just about everywhere, they’re very adventurous and tough folks. Perhaps the economic sanctions are playing a role, not sure. But it made me wonder if the West – particularly the States – is projecting too much military might and far too few social contacts. Our army is in quite a few countries – but our tourists are not. Reactions from the live studio audience?

My first night in Rangoon I did some bar-hopping, and wherever I went the private (not army) security guards shook my hand, escorted me around, and in general treated me like gold. It was bizarre, and not something I’ve experienced much elsewhere…where the security guards tend to escort me off the premises. I had waiters hanging around me making recommendations about the girls in the disco, offering to bring them over to my table, and so forth. It was a bit too much…at midnight I went into the massage room and got an hour-long Burmese massage for 3,000 kyats (less than US$3). I had somehow hurt my back while in Bangkok, and despite finding and seeing a very competent Australian chiropractor there, I was still in bad shape.

The Rangoon bars/discos were really quite entertaining. Many of them feature ‘fashion shows’ wherein a series of young ladies come onto the dance floor wearing outfits/dresses, and if you’re interested in one (or more) of them you can purchase flower garlands and tiaras to place on them. Apparently if you buy enough, you get to talk to the girl after the show – and from that point on, anything goes. I found these shows intriguing – I wanted to laugh and say they were unsophisticated and indicative of a land cut off from the rest of the world, but to be honest they were pretty well-staged and the girls were cute and wearing some nice dresses. Perhaps Western discos could learn a bit from their Burmese counterparts.

I didn’t participate in the garland-buying – although one of the girls was super-cute and I later kicked myself for being lazy. I did manage to meet a young lady who looked like a Burmese Julia Roberts (that may be difficult to visualize, I know) and I spent most of the rest of my time in Rangoon with her – made for some good fun.

I want to mention two things here, realizing that I’m breaking up the narrative. First, I’ve consistently used the names ‘Burma’ and ‘Rangoon’ and not ‘Myanmar’ and ‘Yangon.’ The latter are actually historically accurate and predate the British occupation. I believe that ‘Myanma’ is the term used to describe the greater Burmese nation (not just the majority Bamar people, but also the span of ethnic minorities), and perhaps also the national language. And ‘Yangon’ is the old name for the city. ‘Burma’ is a British term that arose from the name of the majority Bamar people, and ‘Rangoon’ was a corruption of ‘Yangon.’ At least that’s my understanding. So ‘Myanmar’ and ‘Yangon’ are correct terms – the problem is that they were brought back by the junta and it was never put to a vote. That’s why Aung San Suu Kyi and her people continue to use ‘Burma’ and ‘Rangoon’ despite these being essentially British terms. When I asked various people about their thoughts on this, they were mixed. One driver preferred the British terms – he really hated the government and had spent time in jail – whereas another was fine with the government-imposed terms. Interesting situation, to be sure. And on that topic, I often saw what appeared to be old signage on buildings which mentioned ‘Myanmar,’ even though that name wasn’t used till 1990 or so. I wonder how they replaced ‘Burma’ with ‘Myanmar’ and made it look like ‘Myanmar’ had been on the sign for 50 years. Tropical weather probably had something to do with it…

The other thing I want to mention here is that I’m being highly circumspect and careful with regard to names of people and places. Many of the people I met had been in jail or had friends/family members who had been through that brutal experience. More on their stories later. But I want to avoid any possibility of the government busting these people, so I won’t provide any photos or details which I think have the slightest chance of bringing the hammer down. In Burmese prisons, you get no showers and barely edible food, unless your family pays the jailers. Then you can get a shower – 15 cups of water dumped on you…of course, for extra kyats you get extra cups. You get the general idea. The matter is complicated, though, by the fact that almost everyone has a brother/cousin/other who’s in the Tatmadaw. That doesn’t change their evident hatred of the government…but it does highlight the fact that the average shmuck in the army probably is a decent enough fellow who’s merely trying to make a few kyats. The real pricks are the generals and some bad apples up and down the chain who push around the people and extract bribes for services.

So many things to say about Rangoon and Burma – I plan to break up my report into several pieces, and keep this one largely to my initial 2+ days in Rangoon. A few more observations follow, in no particular order…if you’ve been a regular reader you’ve probably noticed my fondness for bullet points, they allow me to be lazy, not follow any particular order/logic, and are probably a hangover from my corporate days of Powerpointing. Here goes:
• On Saturday night I did the Hash in Rangoon’s outskirt. Some of you are familiar with the Hash House Harriers, a ‘drinking club with a running problem’ I won’t get into the details of what Hashing is and how it works, but I’ve been Hashing since 1992 in India. I’ve since Hashed in 20+ countries, made many good friends from it, and find that it always helps me unlock the mysteries of a new place within hours of touching down. The turnout in Rangoon was quite good – random collection of Japanese girls in a local high school, Canadian oil rig copter pilots (Burma has massive natural resource deposits, which the Chinese are eyeing hungrily), English teachers, US Embassy Marine guards, etc. Found out where to go at night and a few other things. On-on!
• Rangoon has a small chain of coffee shops with decent food as well – called Café Aroma. Went in there for a cuppa and noticed a Western woman seated at a booth across from 3 Buddhist monks in their full robed regalia. Really wondered what they were discussing…democracy? English proficiency? Charity? Would have loved to be a fly on that wall.
• The city is often very quiet – main reason is that the government has largely forbidden the use of car horns. It took me a while to figure out the lack of noise…in most Asian cities the horn is used reflexively as a warning device, not only in emergencies. You can imagine the noise in Manila and other metropolis. I probably heard no more than 2-3 horns sounded the entire time I was in Rangoon.
• The other absent sound is that of motorbike exhausts. That’s because the government has also severely restricted the use of motorbikes in/around Rangoon. The government line seems to be centered on noise and pollution control – but that’s a weakly veiled excuse. Actually, officials are more concerned with suicide motorbike drivers assassinating government officials, as has happened elsewhere. And as some of you may have read, a year or so ago the junta relocated the capital/ministries to the center of the country, near the existing city of Pyinmana. So the generals are mostly up there, but still Rangoon is the main city and where most of the action is.
• These restrictions point to a larger, obvious state of affairs – the government has been nervous about people talking, organizing, and moving around the country since the 1988-1990 uprisings and elections, and has taken steps to keep people in their place and prevent untracked movements, particularly around Rangoon where most of the ‘troubles’ occurred. Another brick in this wall is the mobilephone situation – it costs anywhere from US$2,000-3,000 to buy a mobilephone, with most of the costs going to the government as a tax/licensing fee. As a result, almost no one can afford a mobile – the GDP per capita in Burma is something like US$1,500, but I’d guess that the disparity is huge and most people would be happy with half that.
• Cars – crazy situation. The government controls the car trade as well. ‘New cars’ are actually refurbished 1994 Toyotas shipped in from Japan and Thailand. And they cost upwards of US$40,000, even though they’d be worth less than US$3,000 in normal countries. Again, the government makes a mint by holding the car trade hostage, and it also ensures that only those people (often Chinese businessmen and government officials/their buddies) who have some savings can buy cars and get around. Talk about ‘The Golden Land’ (Burma’s slogan – not sure if official or informal, but often used). My drivers tended to have even older cars – 1988 or so – which worked but were essentially wrecks, but still cost US$20,000 to buy. And most taxis are truly dilapidated. Talk about a scam.
• Gasoline – more of the same. Burma has significant deposits of the stuff, and of natural gas, but needs outside help (France, China, etc.) to bring it up and refine it. Anyway, the government subsidizes a set amount per car each month – apparently to appease the populace, but in my cynical opinion more to create wealth for a select few. Here’s how it works, as I understand it: each car in Rangoon gets 30 gallons per month – 1 a day. Not much at all. So the driver must top up on the black market, which is easy to do. Everywhere you drive around Burma, you see little informal shacks with jugs/water bottles of petrol in front. Nobody’s trying to hide this trade. And where does the black market gas come from? Well, all gas stations are nationalized, so all gas must come from the government. And gas station managers cheat the drivers on their standard 30 gallons per month – they might siphon off 5 gallons from that amount, and the driver can’t say a word. Then the station sells that 5 gallons on the black market, and keeps the profit. The government-subsidized 30 gallons per month is priced at 1,500 kyats per gallon – a bit over a buck a gallon. Quite reasonable, but even there the people have gotten screwed, because it used to be 300 kyats per gallon. Of course, worldwide prices have risen so that should be considered. Anyway, beyond the 30 gallons per month, any black market purchases cost 3,500 kyats per gallon – a bit under 3 bucks per gallon, not so different from Western prices. So you’ve got an ecosystem of dealers – the government ones are stealing the black gold and selling it on the black market, the regular cab drivers aren’t getting their fair 30 gallons per month, black market dealers are making some $$ on the spread, and the car passengers must pay higher fares to compensate. Pretty pathetic and ugly system.
• Yangon International Airport – at least you’ll never get lost there. It’s approximately the same size as Charlottesville, Virginia’s Albermarle Country Airport. But Rangoon has 5 million people and Charlottesville only 80,000. Of course, the vast majority of Rangoon’s citizens have never flown or even seen the airport – it’s mostly for foreign visitors.
• I became friendly with a driver in Rangoon and he ferried me around the place. He misunderstood my name and from then on called me “Mr. Moust.” Reminded me of the Boston Celtic’s legendary broadcaster Johnny Most. I considered correcting him, but thought the better of it. Sometimes it’s useful to have your real name unknown, and to provide for a future pseudonym – especially in a fascist dictatorship like Burma. Years ago my friend Charles Collier and I adopted pseudonyms when speaking with each other on the phone – purely to be playful. I used ‘Negroponte,’ taken from the then US Ambassador to Mexico, John Negroponte – who is now our national intelligence head or something like that. I didn’t know he was so conservative, but anyway I loved the name ‘Negroponte’ (‘black bridge’ in Italian) so used that now and then.
• Changed US$ into Burmese kyats at the hotel, and later in the street. One US$ is worth between 1,200 and 1,350 kyats – depends how dodgy the environment you’re willing to withstand. I did change $300 on the street near Sule Pagoda, and got a great rate – but was a bit concerned about getting ripped off, or noticed by the police (who would be eminently bribeable, of course – the amount I was changing was probably several months salary for them). The resulting pile of kyats you get from changing US$ is stunning…I was literally carrying a couple pounds of kyats hidden in my backpack for 2 weeks.
• The Burmese are probably the only people in Southeast Asia to wear distinctive dress and makeup. Men wear a skirt-like garment called a longyi – very few wear pants. I bought a cheap longyi and wore it around – got a few stares and giggles, especially when it started to fall off. I did get some laughs when I pretended to seductively re-wrap it around myself in the street. It’s quite comfortable, more so than pants – only drawback is no pockets, so the guys stick their wallet in the back like waiters sometimes do in Western restaurants. Women (and some boys) wear an interesting white makeup called thanaka – it’s meant to protect from the sun, soften the skin, and smell good as well. Some girls create circular or other designs on their face with the stuff – really unusual to see. I’ll post some photos later on to show you.
• Finally, I’ll conclude this post with a few political observations (as if these were lacking above). First – as mentioned earlier, the head government body is called the State Peace and Development Council (SPDC). You’ve gotta love the Orwellian overtones. I don’t want to overdo the 1984 angle, but the Burmese people call Orwell ‘The Prophet’ and they should know, huh? The really interesting thing is that the SPDC was formerly known as the State Law and Order Restoration Council, and was put together following the 1988 uprisings. That acronym came out to ‘SLORC,’ which is pretty grating on the ears and if anything is more Orwellian and chilling than SPDC. After a while the generals came to understand the negative political ramifications of SLORC, and hired a Western P.R. agency to soften their image – thus, SPDC. I don’t know which agency was hired – anyone out there who does, please chime in. If I remember I’ll try to look it up online soon. Talk about an ethical dilemma – working for a tobacco company would be positively angelic by comparison. The government’s repression of and wars against dissidents and ethnic insurgencies has forced 200,000 people out of the country, with an estimated 150,000 in refugee camps along the Thai border.
• Looked in the Yangon Phone Book in my hotel room. The first page has a series of Political, Economic, and Social Objectives, as well as ‘People’s Desires.’ These are also to be found on the first and second page of the daily ‘New Light on Myanmar,’ the daily government newspaper known on the streets as ‘New Lies on Myanmar.” The Objectives are a risible collection of fascist slogans (‘reconsolidate the nation’) and bullshit promises to write a new state constitution, etc. The People’s Desires are even worse – there are four slogans, and they all start with ‘crush.’ I don’t have the list in front of me, but one of them is an exhortation to ‘crush foreign interference, those acting as stooges for outside interests’ or something like that. Right across the street from the US Embassy is a huge red sign with these same People’s Desires. Are you frightened yet? I sincerely doubt if anyone in Burma beyond the generals gets up in the morning looking to ‘crush’ anyone or anything. But back to the Yangon Phone Book – on the overleaf, across from the slogans, is a garish mobilephone ad. To me, nothing better represented the confluence between fascism and bizarre capitalism than these pages of the phone book. I really should have ripped out the pages and kept them.
• Finally, and far from least, I finally found a country whose people really do want the US to invade and set them free! And it’s not in the Middle East. I had dozens of conversations with people – in cabs, in shops, in bars – and they asked me if/when the US would overthrow the junta. I was perhaps too honest with them, and told them that (because of the US’s own ineptitude) we were handcuffed by the Iraq war, by the tensions with North Korea and Iran, and by our budget woes. Most people seemed glad that the US and EU had imposed sanctions – despite the effects on their own pocketbooks. But they want and need even more help – but won’t get it, in my opinion, until China gets in line and stops exploiting Burma for its resources. And why would China change? The US is locked up with the aforementioned conflicts, and China gets to waltz right in and run the show. So the Burmese people will remain stuck in between their own morbid government and global geopolitical rivalries. Almost without exception, I found the Burmese people to be wonderful – open, intelligent, friendly, and willing to share what little they had with a foreign stranger. Unfortunately, they’ve already have their shot at an uprising, in 1988, and it didn’t work – the government killed more than 3,000 protestors. And the government has armed itself to the teeth (with Chinese and Russian weapons) since then – so in my opinion, either the Chinese will need to come around to the Western position (highly unlikely), or a Burmese Gorbachev will need to emerge from the junta (quite unlikely in the near/medium term). The junta won’t even free Aung San Suu Kyi, or do much about a new state constitution – and with the power and money they’re accruing, why should they?

Sorry to conclude here on a depressing note…but that’s how I felt after talking to some folks around Rangoon. My next post will cover my trip to Bagan to see the thousands of ancient ruins on the plains there – I’ll try to post that ASAP to keep up to date with the slog.