Burmese Days

The road from the Yangon International Airport to the capital was not what we expected. It was newly paved and lined by impressive houses with tennis courts, winding driveways, satellite dishes and shiny Japanese cars. It did not look like a reclusive country on the UN's Least Developed list. Where were the water buffalo? I thought we were too late. But fear not, the country has not yet been inundated and a trip to Burma (officially Myanmar) is a chance to see Asia while it still is Asia.

Sealed off for most of the last forty years, the country until recently was best known as one of the largest suppliers of heroin and also as the home of Aung San Suu Kyi, the Nobel peace prize winner who has been under house arrest since 1989. Now it is opening up again to tourists and individual travelers. It's once more possible to wander among the ancient pagodas at Pagan, to stay in the old British colonial hill towns where the local transportation means miniature stagecoaches pulled by blinkered ponies, and to meet some of the worlds most generous people who welcome foreigners into their homes and share their pickled tea leaves.

However, Burma's unique status as one of the few cities whose landmarks do not include the Golden Arches or 31 Flavors can't last much longer. The ruling military government, the State Law and Order Restoration Council (Slorc), has declared 1996 Visit Myanmar Year. The Slorc is betting on tourism to fill its coffers and bring the country into the twentieth century. Thus, the government expects 500,000 people to come to Burma next year and in preparation hotels are being put up, guides trained and new restaurants and shops open every day along the standard travel route that stretches from Yangon (formerly Rangoon) to Pagan (also Bagan) to Mandalay.

Yangon's skyline is highlighted by the golden spire of the Shwedagon Pagoda, a holy place built to protect eight of Buddha's hairs. A visit to the pagoda takes you through what is surely just the beginning of many inevitable traffic jams caused by the growing number of construction sites and intersections with four-minute stoplights. Indeed, in some parts of Burma the stoplights are merely signs painted with red, yellow and green circles to remind you to stop.

The city is quiet, especially at night. If you want to go dancing, try the Duty Free Shop. The disco on the top floor is one of the few nightclubs that has managed to stay open during the government's assault on "alien culture." A better meeting place is Mr. Guitar, a bar and restaurant near the city center.

Naymyo San, the twenty-eight-year old owner of Mr. Guitar, is Burma's businessman of the nineties. In addition to being a successful restaurateur he is also a surgery resident at Yangon General Hospital, has a trading company and is one of the country's top pop stars. He opened Mr. Guitar in December. It was so well received he opened a second branch in March. The cafe serves seventeen different kinds of coffee as well as burgers, fries and sandwiches. The nightly jam sessions are the real attraction as Burma's favorite recording artists perform live and unplugged, singing everything from Phil Collins to such old Indochina favorites as "Hotel California."

Just a few blocks from Mr. Guitar sits the legendary Strand Hotel where venture capitalists can be seen lunching and exchanging such figures as the number of telephones per capita. What they don't comment on is the number of working telephones per capita. There are telephones everywhere in Burma, many with two digit numbers, but in most cases it's difficult even to call from a hotel room to the front desk. The Strand is a period piece with wicker furniture, ceiling fans and teak floors. Built in 1901 and recently renovated by Amanresorts, it has regained some of its original grandeur and rooms now go for about $325 a night. Rangoon has hotels and guest houses to fit every budget, but it is worth stopping by the Strand to experience a part of Burma's colonial history.

If it is old Burma you want to see, stop by Madame Thai's. One of Rangoon's personalities and premier antique dealers, Madame Thai presides over a rambling house that is covered with bougainvillea and filled with an unsurpassed collection of centuries old silk longyis (sarongs), exquisite lacquer ware and furniture left behind by the British. Madame Thai is extremely proud of her Burmese heritage and will happily take the time to explain the background of an object whether it be a betel nut box or a taxidermy tiger.

Two hours north of Rangoon by air lies one of the most spectacular sights in Asia: Pagan. More than 5,000 temples, many dating back to 1057 AD, the golden era of the Bagan kingdoms, are scattered across twenty-five square miles. It's easy to spend days bicycling around the temples and pagodas and climbing up their steep, narrow steps. Somerset Maugham supposedly enjoyed climbing Thatbinyu, the tallest Pagoda, at sunrise. We opted for sunset. A few words of advice: bring a flashlight. The temples are dark inside, though often small children will lend you a torch and even give you a personal tour. The teenagers are more likely to offer you gem stones (real or fake) which they readily pull out of paper bags and fanny packs. The road to Mandalay is long. Too long. Especially considering that in two weeks in Burma we rarely had a car that lasted more than thirty minutes or thirty miles, whichever came first. This meant traveling by bus, horse and buggy, stagecoach and ox cart. Air Mandalay, a Singaporean joint venture, is the only way to go.

While considered the cultural center of Burma, Mandalay is not the romantic place one conjures up after reading Kipling. It's a busy, sprawling city whose dusty streets show where Burma is headed. The street signs are in Chinese. Mandarin is the language of Mandalay. Many of the businessmen are traders from Yunnan Province here to invest in what the Chinese call the "Great Golden Peninsula." The old night market, with its 1972 copies of Time and ragged Japanese golf magazines, is dying. People now get their CD players and designer shirts at the new Hong Kong Department Store.

Mandalay's hotels are being built and rebuilt. We stayed at the Power Hotel. For forty dollars a night it offered all the comforts of home: red velvet chairs decorated with lacy antimacassars, air conditioning, modern bathrooms and satellite TV. Of course, most of these luxuries require electricity and there was none. It was not until the Chinese military mucky-mucks checked in that the hotel manager turned on the generator. Our only real problem with the hotel was the rat that crawled up out of the air-conditioner vent and whose noisy gnawing kept us awake. Next time we will stay at the Peacock Lodge, a family run bed and breakfast where we had the best meal of the trip (Burmese curry).

Burma is not known for its food. However, the rush to get ready for 1996 is inspiring a wide variety of interesting eateries. The Nylon Ice Cream Bar is one of Mandalay's most crowded cafes, famous for its homemade custard. It has competition from places like the Texas Bar and Grill which serves Texas-style fried rice (big chunks of everything) and BBB.

BBB (it stands for the Barman Beer Bar) opened in 1994 and boasts of being the city's only European restaurant. The guest book documents dozens of satisfied Western customers who thank BBB for a break from twelve days of curry and fried bananas. The menu includes BBQ chicken, tomato soup, scrambled eggs and sardine sandwiches, serves Foster's beer, Evian and milkshakes. For us the main draw was the unfailingly friendly service. The clientele is a mix of homesick travelers, Burmese yuppies and Chinese teenagers who stop by for burgers, milkshakes and Marlboroughs after school.

Mandalay is a good jumping off point for the country's ancient cities: Amarapura, Ava and Sagaing. Also just a couple of hours away lies the old British hill station of Maymyo (also Pyin Oo Lwin). It's easy to imagine the Raj setting up their summer encampments here. The town is surrounded by dilapidated Tudor mansions, cottages straight out of the English countryside, and steepled churches. Candacraig, a retreat for the Bombay-Burmah Trading Co. built in 1906, has become a hotel that is like stepping into a time capsule.

At the center of town near Purcell Clock Tower, is a market where stagecoaches, miniature versions of the Wells Fargo logo, wait for fares. The market has a wide variety of fruits and vegetables as well as strawberries and other "colonial vegetables." Women sell thanaka, a powdered bark that acts as a natural sun block. In March, brightly painted pails were popular as people prepared for the water festival when the custom is to douse anyone and everyone you see. The act is symbolic of washing away one's misdeed in preparation for the Buddhist New Year.

Tucked away on the edge of town is one lasting piece of the colonial past that shows no signs of neglect. The Maymyo Botanical Gardens are a copy of London's Kew Gardens. Built in 1917, since 1958 the garden has been preserved by U Than Shwe, the British-trained superintendent. The garden nurtures 432 acres of teak trees, silver oaks, acacias, rhododendrons, bamboo, roses, silver oaks, marigolds and cherry trees. Young men and women water the garden entirely by hand using old vegetable oil cans with shower nozzles attached.

The investment banking set thinks this Texas-sized country with a population of about forty-five million may be the next Asian tiger. Never mind that while it used to be the rice bowl of Asia, decades of self-styled socialism and military rule have left it one of the world's poorest nations. Thanks to the British there are the remnants of a legal system. And the country has extensive natural resources: oil, teak, sapphires, rubies, jade. It borders China, Laos, Thailand, India and Bangladesh, making it a trading center. The process of getting there has been demystified and twenty-eight day visas are now standard as the government attempts to welcome tourists and foreign investors. Don't forget to pack your mosquito repellent.

Published on 8/1/95