Wanderlust Heaven!

(BTW, if the photos are too small for you to see details, just left click on the ones you want to see. A super-size version will probably come up – if so, just right click on it, then select ’show picture’ and you should get a normal-sized version.)

I took more than 300 photos of the place – and because my memory card can only hold around 120 or so high-res. shots, I had to find photo shops who could dump my shots onto a CD-ROM. Ordinarily I just dump the shots onto my laptop, but had left that in my friend Bob’s place in Bangkok, as I had heard that Burmese Immigration would confiscate and hold computers and mobiles, and that didn’t sound appealing. I was actually happy to leave these distractions in Bangkok, but soon realized that Burma was perhaps the most photogenic place I’d ever visited, and that my memory card wasn’t cutting it. Gotta bump my 256MB Sony Memory Stick up to 1-2 gigs – if anyone’s listening, that’s what I want for Hanukkah or my next birthday!!

Thankfully, the Burmese camera shops were ready for me, and were real rock stars. All of them could burn the CD-ROM and thus allow me to take another round of photos. I got back to Bangkok with 5 CD-ROMs full of photos, which I then moved over to my laptop. Anyone who’s considering a trip to Burma should certainly go out and purchase a sizeable memory card.
The Bagan temples were generally very cool. There’s simply too much to say to get into details here, but I’ll list a few thoughts:
• I was generally happy about visiting the area when I did – during monsoon season. Rain was only a minor hassle, and the tourist count was low, allowing me to be lazy and just show up at hotels and get air tix on the fly. But my big day visiting the temples of Bagan coincided with the final day of school holidays, so scores of kids were hanging around the main temples, pushing the area’s very nice lacquerware, necklaces, etc. The kids were extremely cute and photogenic (photos below), but I hate this sort of thing when I’m sight-seeing and it drove me nuts. The kids use the term ‘lucky money’ and it seems they want the $$ for buying school supplies, paying fees, etc. My solution was to forgo buying anything, but to pay the kids to show me around the temples and to let me take their picture. I’d then give them 1,000-2,000 kyats and all seemed well. I was given a couple small ‘gifts’ by some of the kids with whom I got on well.

• If you don’t want to buy something, make it clear. Don’t beat around the bush, and certainly don’t ask the price – if you do that, you’re departing from your original logic and you’ll get stuck in a protracted discussion/pleading session that’s quite uncomfortable.
• At Manuha Temple, ran into a truckload of out-of-town monks visiting the massive reclining/sleeping (but not dead!) Buddha shrine there. These monks were particularly merry and we were soon laughing together for no particular reason. Manuha is an interesting place…background is that King Manuha of the Mon people was a Buddhist 500-600 years ago, and tried to convince his contemporary King Anawthra of Thaton to convert. Anawthra asked Manuha for some ancient Buddhist books, Manuha said no as he suspected Anawthra wasn’t serious, and the latter proved he was indeed serious by invading the Mon kingdom and capturing/imprisoning Manuha. Manuha was allowed to build the temple that now bears his name, and he spent his final years there. Goes to show that the path to hell is indeed paved with good intentions!

• One of the cool things about Burma, and to some extent other Asian nations,’ is the breakfast offerings. Many Burmans eat a noodle soup called mohinga for breakfast – it’s a bit sweet, the noodles are tangy, and you can put a bit of chicken and/or fish and chillis into it. Quite nice…and a good departure from either no breakfast or from English-style. I had a few bowls of mohinga during my trip – quality/flavor differs noticeably from place to place. Sometimes had a cheroot (Burmese style cigar) after breakfast. When I was in Croatia years ago I enjoyed their burek, which is a pie-like food, definitely greasy, with layers of cheese and meat. Not an everyday thing, but nice enough.
• Had to force myself to do all the corny activities in Bagan and elsewhere – horse rides, boat rides, etc. I generally hate to be a captive audience, and to do the same things everyone else does (you won’t find me on many package tours), but at the same time it’s worth it to book a $5 hour-long boat ride and check out the Bagan sunset on the Ayeyarwaddy (“Big River”) River. Got some very nice shots that way, and seeing the sun setting on pagodas peeking up above trees or perched high on mountains was memorable.

• Took a half-day trip to Mt. Popa, which is a monastery/pagoda at the top of a sharp little volcanic mountain. Astonishing geology – to approach the mountain from the main road is something else. It’s one of the iconic photos of Burma, you’ve probably seen one at some point. Climbed the 700+ steps, sweated a lot, and watched the local monkeys run around the place and occasionally get into (bloody) battles. View from atop was excellent. The experience was compounded by our having stopped at a village rum toddy factory and having several tastings of the local product – it’s made from sugar cane and packs a punch.

• Final night in Bagan, had dinner at a local café. Pretty good meal, but the kicker was the little plate of candies laid out at the end. Turned out to be tamarind candies – unbelievably tangy and sweet stuff. My step-mother Ellen would love these candies – too bad they are so fragile they can’t be carried, they’d turn to dust after a few hours in a bag.

At the end of the day, I was happy to have had the Bagan driver take me around. My back was killing me so wasn’t up for a bike ride around the place…and I would have gotten confused/lost anyway. For US$20 he took me to all the major sights and gave me some background, and when all was said and done I really wondered why I had been feeling down my first night in Bagan. I suppose it was my general tendency to distrust anyone who comes ‘bearing gifts.’ I should take a lesson from many of the locals, who are incredibly low on cynicism and are usually smiling and waving – despite living under a brutal military regime and suffering the daily slings of its policies.

Considered taking a river boat up to Mandalay, but was running short on time. Boat would have taken 12 hours, and I really wanted to get up to Mandalay and see the sights there quickly, as my Bangkok-based friend Bob was coming into Mandalay and I only had a half-day to see the ancient capitals outside the city and perhaps a few city sights too. So I flew, which only cost US$30 and took 20 minutes. I’ve gotta say that Burma’s air industry is impressive in its turnaround times – many flights are multi-segment, i.e. Heho-Mandalay-Yangon, or other permutations, and they get people and baggage on and off and take off again within 10 minutes. Granted, the planes are small and the airports are nearly empty, but it’s still nice to have such a mellow, informal system – no taking off the shoes, etc. The only hitch is that delays are frequent – but didn’t hit me too hard.

Was met at Mandalay’s brand-new airport by a friend of the Bagan driver – again, I was enmeshed in a network of conspirators, in a manner. Anyway, I was now more comfortable with being a ‘kept man’ and allowed this fellow to take me to the ancient cities of Inwa/Ava and Amanapura, both of which were ancient capitals of Burma and which were now either sparsely inhabited by farmers and tour guides or modern versions of the old cities. Inwa required a 2.5 hour horse/cart tour, which was pretty interesting. A few ancient pagodas and monasteries still remain, but you can certainly feel and see the ravages of time. Amanapura is famous for its 1.5 km teak bridge across the Ayeyarwaddy River – I took a boat across one way, and walked the bridge in the other. Had a nice lunch at a riverside café with the driver, and knocked back a couple bottles of Myanmar Beer. Tastes great, very filling. A couples shots of the local kids and the teak bridge:

Then raced up to Mandalay to hit two main sights before meeting Bob at the guesthouse. First, went to Mahamuni Pagoda, which is a massive Buddha complex in the city, and which has more vendor stalls than most malls. While there, I was invited (for a small fee) to help gild the Buddha – a fellow hands you a small sheet of gold leaf and you just stick it on the Buddha statue. Random. I then met a very friendly monk (of course, I initially suspected him of being a government agent) who chatted with me for a while, and was kind enough to show me to the toilet, which was approximately a 2 km walk from where we met. Quite an impressive complex.

The street-level feeling I got from Mandalay was nothing special. The city is young – established in 1857 by the penultimate Burmese king, Mindon Min, whose successor fell to the Brits about 20 years later. Mandalay, the new capital, was called ‘the center of the universe,’ but now it’s a dusty, quiet place which feels more like the center of Mandalay Division (which it is, officially). You certainly see the Chinese ‘invasion’ here – many, many new 2-3 story buildings have gone up in Chinese style – i.e. garish, pink and incredibly cheesy – and my driver told me that 12% of the city’s inhabitants are now Chinese and that Burmese like him are being forced out to the city’s fringes. His car is owned by a Chinese fleet owner, and apparently that’s very normal these days.

Near sunset he drove me out to Mandalay Hill, a famous place to visit. I climbed the steps and was greeted by a very nice view of the city and environs. The city is much more appealing when viewed from the heights – you can see the trees, and the countryside is attractive. There’s a golf course – who the hell plays there, probably the Chinese business community and the military – and a huge prison as well. And a school for the teaching of traditional medicine. I ran into a friendly French couple whom I had met and spoken with at Mandalay Airport – we hung out a bit and compared notes. Burma is one of those places where you continuously run into the same people – that happened several times later as well. Enjoyed the view (photo below), then climbed down and went to the guesthouse to meet Bob.

Bob had arrived without a hitch, and was sleeping soundly, so I woke him up and our driver took us for a quick bite of Shan food, then to the (in)famous Moustache Brothers show. These 3 fellows (actually 2 brothers and their cousin) put on a political and cultural show every night – with criticism of the junta, local singing and dancing, and just general joking around. The English-speaking MC, Lu Maw, is an absolute riot – I bought the CD if anyone wants to see it. His brother and cousin were arrested in 1996 and spent 5+ years in the clink. They had told anti-government jokes at a democracy rally held at Aung San Suu Kyi’s house in Rangoon, and agents turned them in. The cousin, Lu Zaw, seemed to me to be carrying the psychic scars quite heavily still, whereas Par Par Lay, Lu Maw’s brother and the ‘head Moustache Brother,’ still seems off-the-wall and light-hearted. Anyway, the show was brilliant and I would go again if I had the chance. Bought their T-shirt too, but didn’t dare wear it while in Burma – that would be pushing my luck. Aung Sun Suu Kyi visited the Moustache Brothers in Mandalay a few years ago, while free, and she’s known them from way back – they have amazing pics of her while a young woman (see below). Our driver picked us up after the show – and mentioned that a government agent had been hanging around the street in front of the house.

It is surprising that these guys are allowed to perform – but only for tourists, and only in English. I suppose the government looks at it as a way of keeping subversive elements above-ground and in one place – and if they threw them in jail again, the uproar might be too much for even the junta to stomach. When they were in jail years ago, Rob Reiner and others wrote letters, and the movie About a Boy mentioned Par Par Lay’s imprisonment. Anyway, after the show Bob and I spoke with Lu Maw for a few minutes, and had a good discussion about the general situation. He also asked us the definitions of a few English words, including ‘patriot’ – good one there. Lu Maw’s English is pretty solid – he’s self-taught, and picks up a few words every day. He’s very into using colloquialisms – his brother and cousin were ‘sent up the river,’ ‘in the clink,’ and ‘under lock and key.’ Every time he successfully throws out one of these expressions, he grins madly and it’s huge fun and laughs for the audience. Certainly one of the more entertaining shows I’ve ever seen, PG-rated or otherwise. And Bob and I got to pose with the Brothers holding various subversive signs – see below. You can find out more about the Moustache Brothers online, I’m sure.

The next day we drove 4-5 hours out to Hsipaw, which is in Shan State and a good place for treks and just chilling. We had a bit of a negotiation with our driver, whom we had asked to price a lengthy trip – Mandalay-Hsipaw-Mandalay-Kalaw. We thought he was a bit high, and got information from another source. We drove the price down and while the driver seemed cranky for a couple hours, he soon came around and we were all cool. This fellow was actually wonderful – good-natured, knowledgeable, opinionated, and fun. He, Bob and I got on well as we went to Hsipaw. We stopped at a huge Buddhist cave (name eludes me, and I’ve tossed my guidebook), then got into Hsipaw as night fell. We stayed in the one real option there – Mr. Charles Guesthouse. Hsipaw is known for the “Mr’s”– Mr. Charles Guesthouse, Mr. Food (a Chinese joint), Mr. Book (obvious), and formerly Mr. Donald, a nephew of the last Shan sao pha (literally, ‘sky king’), local nobility who lived in a mini-palace and gave tours to foreigners – until he was arrested a year ago and sentenced to 13 years for talking about politics with foreigners. My guidebook didn’t have anything about his arrest, so I was shocked when I asked to go see him and was told what had occurred. Crazy and fucked up.

That first night in Hsipaw, the three of us went to Mr. Food and ate a huge meal. I thought the highlight (besides the lengthy row of Myanmeer Beer bottles we were lining up) was the ‘dry fish curry.’ Everything’s either rice (thamin) or a curry (hin) in Burmese food – this was simply a large, whole fried fish (some sort of river carp or perch, methinks) that was very moist and flaky on the inside – we ate some of the smaller bones, they melted right in the mouth. Wasn’t the curry I was used to – but quite delicious anyway.

Slept very well in the cool mountain air. And managed to get some reading done, as well. Had been carrying The Ginger Man by J.P. Donleavy around with me since Baguio, Philippines, and needed to get started on that. Finished it before leaving Burma and gave it to Bob when we met again in Bangkok. I should mention here that Bob was only in-country for one week before returning to Bangkok, so he and I had some ground to cover and we thus chose flying in most instances to save time.

Next day, went on a half-day hike with a local guide – slogged across ride paddies and into tiny Shan villages. Smoked a cheroot in a cheroot-making hut, Bob shared his Thai language with the Shan people (many similarities, and the numbers are the same), and of course had our usual frank discussions. Burma’s ethnic minorities particularly despise the government, which is entirely Bamar. Shan insurgents – particularly the Shan State Army – long fought the junta’s troops, and while relative peace exists today, there are still flare-ups. I recall reading years ago about two 8-year-old (Shan? Wa?) twins – Jonny and Luther Htoo – in a story in Life magazine or something similar. These two kids led a band of rebels, were decked out with submachine guys, and were smoking cheroots. They had the faces of 70-year-old men. Talk about hard lives…I believe the magazine’s photos won some sort of award, they were seriously graphic and disturbing.

That night, Bob and I were walking over to Mr. Food (again) when we heard our driver yell to us from a café. We went over there – he had been drinking Burmese whiskey for several hours, had an angelic drunken grin on his face, and was hanging out with a Shan truck driver who was more than a few sheets to the wind. He invited us to join them – so we did. Bob and I ordered food and cold beers from Mr. Food – we suspect the food was made in the café right there and then, and the beer was sourced from somewhere close – it arrived too quickly to have come from Mr. Food, which was 5-10 minutes down the road. But no matter – we polished off many bottles of beer, and also some whiskey and Shan rice liquor, which was about as tasty as you might imagine. It was Saturday night, I had low expectations of a wild time in Hsipaw, but I was pleasantly surprised at the mayhem. And we were kept well-juiced by the barmaids, who were Shan and one of whom was an absolute doll. I’d show her photo here but prefer not too, given the political situation.

Around Hsipaw and the country, I saw a few people wearing US Army shirts. I can’t imagine the government looks kindly on that. Perhaps, again, they view it as a harmless outlet for frustration and allow it because it’s so easy to observe. I wouldn’t be surprised if agents compile a list of ‘subversives’ like these, and when the next reckoning comes, they’ll be included in the roundup. I hope that’s not the way it is…but usually when I have depressing thoughts like this, I’m right.

Went back to Mandalay after that, passing through the former British hill station of Maymyo – now called Pyin Oo Lwin. Try saying that ten times fast. There are some lovely old British homes there – the most famous is Candacraig, now a government hotel that most tourists avoid like the plague. We took a few photos of the place – there was no one staying there when we visited, and the staff looked bored as hell. Paul Theroux wrote a book called The Great Railway Bazaar and Candacraig featured in it – there used to be some real characters who hung out at the bar there. Maymyo was on the rail line from China and used to be a buzzing place. I need to pick up that book and get more info., that’s all I know right now. Did a fair bit of reading before I went to Burma – read a great book called Secret Histories by Emma Larkin, who speaks Burmese and who went to Burma to retrace Orwell’s experiences there – he was a British military cop for 5 years in Burma. There are 5-6 other well-known books that I have yet to read, but will pick them up soon.

Spent the night in Mandalay – found a decent little hotel as our original guesthouse was booked. Generally in the low season we just showed up and got rooms/flights – but this was one of the few times we got negged. No major problem, there are many places to stay, but we really enjoyed our original guesthouse. We went out for a street BBQ dinner with our driver and had a few beers. We told him that the next day we were going to fly to Kalaw, not drive with him – as the drive would be 6-7 hours, would be costly, and would be tough on my back. We also wanted to get there early and have more time. He took the news quite well – probably didn’t want to drive all the way there, then back by himself. Road is quite bad. So we just had him take us to the airport early the next day, then parted ways. As I wrote above, we enjoyed hanging out with him and will probably recommend him on websites and guidebooks.

As we were on our way to the airport, we stopped briefly in front of Mandalay Palace, a rebuilt mini-city inside Mandalay that once was the sight of the royal palace. It was destroyed in WW2, rebuilt since, and supposedly involved forced labor, so many locals and tourists shun the place, rightfully so. In front of the place is a huge red sign which says ‘The Tatmadaw shall never betray the cause of the nation.’ Which was good for a laugh (a nervous one). After all, the tatmadaw (army) has already handed the country over to China, and everyone knows that.

Flew to Heho, the gateway to the famed Inle Lake. But took a taxi not to Inle/Nyaungshwe, but instead to the hilltown of Kalaw. We heard the vibe there was good and was worth a visit. Shared a taxi from airport with a wonderful Spanish couple from Madrid – Marta and Enrique. They were visted SE Asia for 3 weeks, and would soon move on to Angkor Wat in Cambodia. We met them for dinner that night at a Nepali joint in Kalaw, and had a good talk – even after the place was inundated with a tour bus of package tourists who disrupted the ambience and quiet of the place.

Bob and I stayed at a small, cheap guesthouse which offered a good trekking guide. I booked a one-night trek for the following day; I had originally considered trekking all the way to Inle Lake, around 50 miles, but doing that with just one overnight would be difficult, the guide told me. So I decided instead to confine the trek to the Kalaw area, and to overnight at The Viewpoint, a Nepali lodge run by a family on a peak with an awesome view of the surrounding tea-laden hills. Enrique and Marta did make the 2-day trek to Inle and said it wasn’t too bad – they chose a reasonable route, it seems. I found this out when we ran into each other a couple days later at Heho Airport – as mentioned earlier, you keep running into people in Burma, particularly outside Rangoon. We made plans to stay in touch and I hope to see them in Madrid when there in mid-December. We talked about some of our favorite Madrid places, including Cerveceria Cervantes. Very lovely people.

Really enjoyed my trek – was challenging enough and covered some good ground. We saw Shan people harvesting tea leaves, we hung out in village huts and talked with the locals, and The Viewpoint itself was very nice. My guide (won’t name him here) knew all about the local plants and crops, and was curious about ‘the outside world.’ My room at The Viewpoint was just a simple little number, and came with a lock for the door. I was asked to use it, as a drunk from a nearby village sometimes came around and you never knew what he would do. I found it amusing that even in a place like that, I had to lock my room…

I watched a couple cats play on a bench in the sunshine, and read more of The Ginger Man. A soft rain came around 5 p.m., I ordered a beer (available even here!), and enjoyed the mellow ambience. Had dinner after sunset – the proprietors made a nice pumpkin curry with dhal bhat (lentil rice soup) and cabbage – chowed that right down (mountain food always tastes great), read a bit more, then crashed until sunrise. Hiked back to Kalaw all morning, and got there around 11 a.m. I wanted to get back fairly quickly – I still need to learn to relax – primarily because I wanted to catch up with Bob, who had decided to forgo a trek in order to get to Inle Lake and tour around there. He had to fly back to Rangoon on Wednesday night, so was really pressed for time. I wasn’t going to Rangoon till Friday morning, so could squeeze in my trek and still have a couple days in Inle.

Took a US$30 taxi to Inle – you can spend money in Burma if you try – and as we were pulling up to the guesthouse, we saw a tall, white gawky fellow with an umbrella strolling down the street. Bob! I was very lucky to run into him, despite the relative frequency and likelihood of this occurring – if I was 2 minutes earlier or later, I wouldn’t have seen him, and would have had to track him down – and he was flying in a couple hours. I got a room, then we had lunch at the unusually named ‘Miss Nyaungshwe’ restaurant – we were in the town of Nyaungshwe – and Bob gave me suggestions on how to see Inle Lake. He recommended a 2-hour sunset canoe ride in the canals, which I did later that same day, and a half-day powerboat tour of numerous lake sights, which I did the next. Then Bob took off for Heho Airport, en route to Rangoon, and to Bangkok the next day.

The canoe trip was random. A petite Burmese (or Shan) woman was the guide, and didn’t look up to heavy paddling. But she was solid and did fine, until we needed to return to town and were going up-river – then she handed me a paddle and we managed to get to shore. We stopped in (yet another) cheroot-making hut, then to a lovely monastery which was run by an old monk who was funny beyond belief. He told me I was ‘Brother Number One’ (which sounded disturbingly like a Khmer Rouge moniker), and told me he admired several US Presidents – Washington, Lincoln, and Kennedy. We talked about religion a bit, and I told him I’m Jewish – wherein he went into a monologue about his admiration for Einstein, and how he had heard of Israelis David Ben-Gurion and Moshe Dayan (he put a hand over one eye to simulate Dayan’s patch). Reasonably well-informed guy – running the monastery probably isn’t that demanding. He also said he thought that all American Jews are rich – I just smiled – and that Myanmar and Israel are friends – I frowned. I hope that Israel isn’t buddying up to Burma – I can’t imagine that’s the case, despite both being rogue nations in the eyes of some.

Bob had visited the same monastery and chatted with this fellow the day before – the monk did mention seeing an American yesterday, and when I signed to guest ledger there was Bob’s entry. Talk about a very small world.

Next day, it was raining hard in the morning, but cleared up sufficiently for me to go on the half-day Inle Lake tour. Nyaungshwe is a 20-minute canal ride from the lake itself – although boundaries and definitions on Inle are tricky, as there’s not really a clear coastline, it’s marshy and the water levels rise and fall dramatically during the year. Sometimes huts built out on the water are below the waterline, sometimes the waterline is only a meter or two deep. Bizarre lake – like a waterworld. There are something like 17 villages built on the lake itself, and the houses are on stilts. There are schools, restaurants, and other buildings on the lake – also monasteries, pagodas, etc. etc. The canoe rowers have an unusual technique – they wrap one leg around their paddle and push off against it. That frees up their arms for rest and whatever else (smoking a cheroot). Here’s a photo:

Had lunch at a lake restaurant. Next to a monastery where a loudspeaker had nonstop chants. Went into the monastery after lunch and watched the chanting monk for a while – what a set of lungs! He did his sing-song-y reading of the Tripaka (Buddhist scriptures) on and on for hours, I’m sure. Talk about devotion…I don’t think he’s drawing a large salary.

Saw some nice new houses on the lake, and was reminded of my Kalaw guide telling me that some Burmese are making out quite well these days. Farmers in the fertile hills outside Kalaw often use genetically modified seeds and realize 2-3 harvests per year – and can clear US$100 or more per month. They don’t really have rent to pay, so can keep most of that. In the cities, it’s much more difficult – you really need startup capital to kick off a business, buy a few cars/taxis, etc. But it struck me that the Burmese are savvy businesspeople, they’ve been forced to be resourceful and make do with very little, and now that the country has a somewhat free market, those with some brains and drive are doing fairly well. Of couse, 80+% of Burmese people are still very poor.

Visited an antiques shop on the lake. Some ‘long-necked’ tribal girls worked in there, wanted to see them. Here’s a shot of them:

Enjoyed the lake tour, despite some rain. Inle Lake is large, I forget the dimensions but it seems to sprawl on lengthwise out of sight. The width is less, you can see straight across it. And in the hills above the lake, there are the ubiquitous stupas peeking out through the trees and atop the hills. Altogether a lovely setting.

As mentioned earlier, ran into Marta and Enrique at Heho Airport en route to Rangoon. Also saw numerous other Westerners at the airport, would see an Aussie couple that night at the Strand Bar’s half-price Friday happy hour. Flight was less than an hour, and reached Rangoon around mid-day for my final couple days in-country. Checked into same hotel, was again placed on 8th floor – coincidence? Is that the foreigners floor? Probably not, but you never know. Reminded me of the Daiichi Hotel Tokyo, where I stayed too many times to count, and where I was always put on the 17th floor (apparently the yakuza mobsters were on the 18th floor…).

Had a few things to do in Rangoon before taking off on Sunday morning for Bangkok. First, wanted to stop by the US Embassy and chat with someone there about the political situation in the country as I saw it. I was wondering how the embassy staff spent their time – they certainly weren’t spending much time talking to the junta! Went by, got in, registered my presence in the country (not a bad idea in general), and only got as far as chatting with a consul staffer – the ambassador (actually, she’s a charge d’affaires) wasn’t in and requires appointments anyway. The fellow I spoke with wasn’t a political person, more of an operations guy, so didn’t have much to say. I had a lot to say, and shared some with him – hopefully the place wasn’t bugged. Back outside, across the street, saw a huge red sign with the aforementioned ‘People’s Desires’ listed – obviously in the face of the US. Oh my!

Second, wanted to visit the only Jewish synagogue in Burma. Had tried 2 weeks before but caretaker, Moses Samuels, wasn’t there – I had just missed him. So went during that Friday night – Shabbat – and there he was. Interestingly enough, all the guards/gatekeepers of the synagogue are local Muslims. There’s a mosque a couple doors down, and everyone gets on very well from what Moses told me. There used to be about 2,500 Jews in Burma – now only 8 families remain. During High Holidays they fly in a rabbi from Bangkok. The synagogue was Sephardid/Baghdadi style and beautiful – there are two torah scrolls which Moses showed me, both are from Baghdad. Thankfully they weren’t around by the time the US showed up there.

Moses’s son Sammy (Sammy Samuels – I love it) is studying at Yeshiva University in Brooklyn, and is deciding now what to do afterward. His father wants him to return to Rangoon and be his successor – and I confess I’d like to see these diaspora communities live on. I’ve visited many, including Kochin, India’s 2 years ago, and they are all being denuded by emigration to Israel. I certainly understand the trend, but personally feel that the Jewish people won’t be better served by a slightly more populous Israel (or US, Canada, Europe, Oz, etc.). If there are no more Jews in Burma, etc., then local folks won’t know any Jews, won’t understand their position, and would be easier to convince that Jews and Israel are bad. I know there’s an outfit in Israel which searches for descendants of the Lost Tribes, tries to vet them, then get them to Israel; I wonder if there’s an organization that helps support the diaspora Jews in remote places like Burma. That might be an interesting place to work…

Went to the Strand for happy hour. Was again amazed at the quiet on the streets – no car horns, and really not that many cars. As mentioned earlier, a ‘new car’ (1994 Toyota) costs US$40,000+, and thus there aren’t many traffic jams in Burma. That was kind of nice, if you didn’t think too deeply on it. As I walked around, I’d sometimes get looks from people – not unfriendly, more like ‘what the bejesus is a white boy like you doing in a hellhole like this?’ I usually just smiled back stupidly. There must be thousands of people in Asia who have seen me do this and think that I’m feeble-minded. It’s all part of my grand strategy…

Saw a street-side poster shop – there was a poster of Angelina Jolie side-by-side with one of Jesus. Wish I had my camera around for that one!

Went out to the discos that night – saw a few fashion shows, had a few drinks, danced a bit, and hit the hay. Next morning saw my former driver, he took me to Aung San’s house (not Aung San Suu Kyi – that’s off-limits, although sometimes drivers will quickly drive nearby – mine wouldn’t, understandably). The house is nice and houses memorabilia from Aung San and his family – including photos of the family with baby Aung San Suu Kyi. That was cool to see. Kind of like touring Mount Vernon, George Washington’s house in Virginia. Aung San’s old car is still there too, in a little garage. Hasn’t been switched on in decades, from the looks of it.

Did the Hash again later that day. Was a city run, so didn’t get too muddy. Went through some tiny, fascinating little residential alleyways – the locals looked at us like we were nuts. Which made sense. Cut myself slightly on a barbed wire fence – had gotten a tetanus shot a few months earlier, so no prob. Got a bit lost with a couple other Hashers – at one point we were clueless until an army fellow pointed the way, he’d evidently seen a pack of foreigners running a few minutes earlier. Goes to show that the low-level guys in the army can be friendly and normal – it’s the generals and a few scumbags who are the ones to watch out for. Enjoyed the down-downs with the Hashers at the American Club, which I imagine is thoroughly watched/bugged by the government. Then went back into the city to clean up and go out for my final night in Rangoon.

My driver took me around that night – went to 50th Street Bar and Grill for dinner, a bit of solid Western fare. Then hit the bars/discos again, and had a few laughs. I’m available for a full debrief of these matters off-line, so just let me know.

Next morning went to the airport to fly to Bangkok. No hitches, but was a bit concerned that my embassy visit might have been noticed, and that I’d be detained for political interference. Sailed right through and flew back to ‘the real world’ with memories of my trip to Burma that will last forever.

I’ve a few final thoughts to round out this post:
• Listened to Voice of America/Radio Free Asia one night with a Burmese friend. The US broadcasts this nightly, the speakers are Burmese refugees in the States. Apparently the junta can’t block the signal. It’s in Burmese, so my friend had to tell me what was being said – very hard-hitting anti-junta stuff, and analysis of the government’s cozying up to Iran and other nasty places. We were sitting in a dark little hut and it all seemed clandestine and dangerous. I think it’s against the law to be caught listening to this stuff…but at the same time many people do it, it’s their one lifeline to the free world.
• As I mentioned at the end of my previous post, the political situation is not encouraging. The government has won, or at least is winning handily. They’ve been at this for 40 years and show no signs of loosening their grip. Most of their active enemies are dead, exiled, or in prison/house arrest. They’re making huge amounts of $$ from oil/gas/fees, and have bought up massive amounts of weaponry. There’s even talk of the regime getting nuclear weapons from North Korea and Iran. All very depressing stuff. And it’s nearly impossible to imagine a popular uprising. The government has struck a decent balance economically – I didn’t see anyone who was starving (whereas North Koreans are so hungry they’re probably too weak to fight), and there’s at least the illusory promise of potential economic gains from the free market – although very few actually get that far. So bellies are fairly full…and with the security apparatus and sense of fear that the regime projects, the people are stuck doing little more than listening to VOA/RFA and whispering to foreigners and trusted friends behind closed doors. Bob and I were in a photo shop and when the people there found out we were Americans, they closed the door and let loose on the government, and asked when the US would bomb the capital. Unfortunately, we couldn’t do much to give them comfort.
• In sum, Burma is an absolutely magical place ruled by an insane, brutal military dictatorship that sucks the well-being out of the nation and her people. Let me conclude this post, and my download of my Burma experience, with some sad tales which I hope can spur us to do something for the Burmese people:
1. A cab driver was arrested and jailed for 2 weeks – his foreign passenger took a photo of a military installation or parade and the driver was blamed. During the 2 weeks in prison, he got 3 showers, which he had to pay for. He lost 4 kg due to the inedible food (dirty rice with plenty of insects).
2. A high school boy was riding his bike, the chain broke, and he was pitched off his bike onto the grounds of a police station. Instead of helping him (and the posted slogan at all Burmese police stations is ‘May I Help You’) they arrested him and jailed him for a month. The boy’s family was able to bribe the cops and get him out early. He was so traumatized that he stop going to school, and now sits around depressed.
3. As mentioned earlier in this post, the government arrested Mr. Donald of Hsipaw – the nephew of a Shan prince – and is jailing him for 13 years for discussing politics with foreigners.
4. On a huge scale, the junta has persecuted ethnic minorities, killing the men, raping the women (perhaps a bit of the converse as well), and forcing exile on more than 200,000 people (actual figure is probably an order of magnitude higher than that).

Am writing this post from Chiang Mai, Thailand, where last night I met a fellow at a bar who works for a Burma-oriented website called mizzima.com. Haven’t checked it out yet, but given my interest in Burma I’ll do so soon. Perhaps I’ve found a cause to support here…

See you in a few days for my next post, on Thailand (Bangkok, Chiang Mai, and Mae Hong Song province).