me, myself and myanmar

i was here a year ago.
my least favourite animal in the world, the monkey, had unofficially taken over the city of bagan where we went into the mountains to see a marketplace. three of the horrid little bastards were lined up on a beam overhead and hissed and screeched at me so violently that i burst into tears and sprinted whimpering down the endless dirt staircase i'd just spent forever climbing and launched myself superman style through the car window to the applause of a hundred bystanders. ***may be a slight exaggeration***

that is my only monkey story. i am not one of those westerners who laugh with glee "YAY! THIS IS AN AMAZING TRAVEL EXPERIENCE, GET PICTURES!! DON'T WORRY, TAKE YOUR TIME, THIS IS FUN" while they have 10,000 tiny rabid monkeys swinging from their necks and grabbing the bananas they've been saving all day. i hate monkeys so much. here those three are, i hope they are dead now.

there were so many unbelievable things to witness in myanmar. we brought our own coffee since the collective advice from westerners made myanmar out to be one giant dangerous toilet with trees and no food. attention white devils: the coffee was delicious as the locally grown teas, and the cuisine was the best i've had in my life. similar to thai but even fresher and heavier on the grated carrots, avocados and delectable sea creatures.

the land is so fertile and varied that for such an economically and politically torn country the population by and large is well fed. in the cities the restaurants were lit with strands of red and gold lights and the floors were cool tiles and many people spoke english. those who lived in the cities in particular made learning english the mission of their lives and the lives of their children.

these women are sifting chick peas out of the grasses they grow from. everywhere we went the people were grinning and pressing food into our hands. everything was so delicious. i ate street food since it wasn't meat and it beats most fine dining here. maybe that makes me a feral (we knew that already).

the monk procession was one of the most emotional experiences of my life. 

a thousand of them waited in calm joy in the streets until they were summoned to come and eat their daily meal. their rice bowls were filled for them by women and men and children of all ages, burmese buddhist volunteers whose lives revolve around believing in the goodness of people and animals and generosity. the little boy monks were in deep red robes and the little girls had their heads freshly shaved and their robes were pastel pink.

they ate in silence on mats with their heads down until they were full and then they rose and brought their bowls into the streets and fed the homeless and poor of the city, those who had been waiting all day for the generosity of the monks, giving the generosity of their smiles in return. they did not look into the bowls that were passed to them but into the eyes of the monks.

i had tears leaking out of my eyes. i was so embarrassed of my culture, though i never encountered anything but love, curiosity and support during my time in myanmar. our values seemed as sick as cancer, as insignificant as a speck of dust, emptier than a crater.

this is the v.i.p. section of the airport.

in yangon, we took off our shoes and walked through pagodas of gold. there was incense and people lit sticks for the departed or just in prayer. it was quiet and the air was warm and fragrant. some pagodas, the oldest and best ones, were on the tops of massive mountains. we drove with hundreds of burmese in diesel trucks, then we walked up rock staircases or worn paths, and at the top would be another staircase or path, and then another, until at the top of the mountain you were suddenly in a marketplace packed with food and people as far as your eyes could see, and there were gorgeous pagodas everywhere.

you could tell the chinese tourists because they used the burmese children as human horses, sitting on cloth stretcher chairs on their backs and chortling to each other as the kids below them walked steadily straight up the mountain, hunched over and talking-gasping-laughing at times to the child beside him.

at night, i'd read by flashlight sometimes (the electricity goes off in most regions every few hours) or listen to music on my ipod in rooms like this. the beds and furniture were hard and the windows always looked out on something exotic and natural. this room was on top of a mountain and i could see monk processions winding up snaking mountain roads on the other side of a huge lushly green canyon. in the city of lake inle, outside the "hotel amazing" was a moat, and on the other side were dirt roads filled with scooters and little shops and the occasional expat wandering slowly through his life in burma.

more on places i've been and pictures to make you drool at another time. take a minute to think about somewhere else in the world besides your living room RIGHT NOW! i've enjoyed looking back.