Myanmar

Myanmar is mystical: the peaks of the pagodas in the morning mist of Bagan. The sweat-inducing climb to Mount Zwegabin at sunrise. The caves full of Buddha statues near Hpa-an. The idyllic Inle Lake surrounded by rolling hills. The picturesque white dream beaches of Dawei or Ngwe-Saung. And everywhere an incredible warmth of heart and a broad smile, which we encountered at every turn.

We visited the capital Yangon for the first time in 2012, coincidentally at the time of the first free presidential elections. Myanmar then experienced a delicate process of opening up. Tourists flocked to the country, international organizations poured aid and money into the region, China and other countries established trade relations. In 2019, we were lucky enough to travel to Myanmar for several weeks, as Chris spent three months researching for his master’s thesis in Myanmar. In spring 2021, the military seized power again and has been waging a fierce battle against ethnic groups and rebellious factions ever since. In the long term, it can only lose this battle – the end of the military dictatorship is already being predicted time and again.

We land at the tranquil airport of Mandalay, one of the most important and second largest cities in the country. Although well over 1.5 million people live here, the city is quiet, almost provincial. Decades of military dictatorship have left behind an impoverished and backward state.

We have a light lunch in a teahouse. Workers eye us curiously over the rim of their soup bowls. We take a cab to the Mahamuni Pagoda and immediately find ourselves immersed in Buddhist religious practice: statues, joss sticks, prayers and prayer chains, gold leaf and sacred inscriptions. Pilgrims and excursionists, families and solo travelers. We are the only tourists among all these people – or at least we don’t see them. Shoes off on the light-colored marble floors, no photography of the Jade Buddha statue. No access for women. A bow, a longyi wrapped around the bare lower legs. While religion is interpreted very playfully and freely in many parts of Southeast Asia, Buddhism in Myanmar seems to be practiced more seriously and traditionally.

In the afternoon, we stroll through the various districts of the city. We see temples and fragrant flowers. We get lost in small streets full of craft stores: stonemasons sculpt Buddhas in various postures. Goldsmiths create the filigree crowns that are often placed over Buddha statues. We meet instrument makers and weavers, metalworkers and cabinetmakers. At some point, we reach a dark lake. A narrow crescent moon stands in the sky, with the lights of a settlement twinkling behind it. The gold of the temples shines on the mountains. Myanmar is already sacred to us.

The next morning is beautiful: the sky is clear and the temperatures are still bearable in early February. Normally, the dusty plain around Mandalay is one of the hottest regions in Myanmar, if not in Southeast Asia.

We have rented scooters and set off to explore the area around Mandalay. A wide road leads us southwards. The wind hits our faces and soon we have left the city traffic behind us. The air smells spicy, tropical trees bloom along the roadside. Whitewashed temples with golden roofs lie off the road and on the domes of the hills. It is magnificent and will be one of the most beautiful days of our trip.

We visit a Buddhist monastery, walk through a village by the river, have lunch in a very original restaurant and follow a mountain road up the Sagaing hill in the afternoon. The view is breathtaking: a vast expanse of land lies before us. A country so poor and torn, but at the same time so incredibly rich in culture and friendliness. It is the second day of our trip, but we are already madly in love.

At sunset, we drive to U-Bein Bridge. It is not only the oldest, but also the longest teak and wood bridge in the world. Huge coaches bring hundreds of Chinese people here. But they only stop for a quick photo on the first few meters of the bridge. We walk on and find real life away from the bridge: A fisherman looking for crabs in the shallow waters of the dry season. A man on his scooter watching the sunset while making a phone call. A small, almost forgotten temple on the edge of the tourist crowds. And the U- Bein Bridge as a simple yet grandiose backdrop to this panopticon.

An intercity bus takes us to the old royal city of Bagan. A vast landscape passes by the window of the bus, simple huts by the roadside. Women toil on building sites and carry heavy water canisters home. They do a backbreaking job.

In Bagan, we rent an electric scooter and follow the rutted, sandy tracks. The small town is surrounded by a gigantic area of over 2,000 temples. We quickly get lost in this labyrinth of paths and ruins – and enjoy it. During the heat of the afternoon, we rest in the hotel before plunging into this picturesque temple landscape once again at sunset. We drive far out to the edge of the complex. Suddenly we are enveloped in thick dust. A herd of cows passes us by. We are right in the middle of it. The sky begins to change color, revealing its full palette of hues. We reach a hill just in time for sunset. The temple spires and towers rise like giants above this land. Some of them are shining gold. They are holy titans, sacred relics.

The next morning, technicians from the German Life Foundation pick us up. We have been invited to the opening ceremony of a water pump in a village around 40 kilometers away. We drive over potholed roads on the flatbed of a van, the wind cooling the sweat on our skin.

A concrete water basin with a pump inside that brings water up from the depths. Simple technology and at the same time infinitely valuable in this hot region. The availability of clean water means better hygiene, better health and an improvement in living standards for the inhabitants of the village – especially for the women. After all, they are the ones who walk several kilometers to the nearest water point every day to carry fresh water home. The simple technology donated by the German foundation relieves them of this heavy burden and gives them time for education or a job.

Over the next few days, we set off several more times to visit projects in the villages around Bagan with employees of the foundation. We talk to village leaders and a wide variety of people. We see a solar power system for ourselves, which replaces an old, smelly and all too often defective diesel generator to produce electricity for an entire settlement. We visit a school whose pupils do not have suitable books or even enough paper. Even small things that are carelessly and thoughtlessly used and wasted at home make a difference and can bring about change here.

All the impressions and experiences work their way through us as we leave Bagan by bus, heading south-east.

Inle Lake is one of the biggest tourist magnets in Myanmar. There are a variety of restaurants and hotels, tour operators and bicycle rentals.

We use the day of our arrival to let the last few days sink in and relax. We enjoy good food and a massage before standing on the banks of a side river of the lake early the next morning. It is cool and hazy. We take a small boat out into the rising sun. Fishermen hunt for prey – they use traditional techniques such as sticks and special fish traps. They are masters at maneuvering their small boats: They use tiny paddles to steer around even the tightest bends.

On the banks, we observe water buffaloes and children playing. In the dense reeds, huts stand on narrow stilts in the water. They are made of bamboo and wood. Numerous people live on the side arms, banks and even on the lake. The water of Inle Lake is their livelihood, from which they derive food and work. They sell the surplus fish, sow flowers and harvest lotus. The weather here is already milder than in the dry basin around Mandalay – wine even grows on the slopes of Inle Lake.

Many different craftsmen and family businesses have settled in the houses and villages by the lake. Lotus, from which the finest silk is made, is traditionally grown on the water here. Burmese longyi (wrap skirts), which are still worn by almost all Burmese today, are woven here from the expensive lotus silk.

A few houses further on, we walk through a silversmith’s workshop. The raw, shiny ingots are shaped with targeted hammer blows. A huge bellow fans the forge fires. In a paper factory we admire colorful umbrellas, a wood carver shows us his various marionettes and hand puppets, a cigarette wrapper lets us taste different flavors of Burmese cheroots (cigars). Tobacco rolled in special leaves, with flavors such as mint, tamarind or banana, is placed on our tongues as a fine and not at all scratchy aroma.

Although most of the businesses make a living from tourists at Inle Lake, it is a wonderful insight into the traditional craft of the Burmese, as it is still practiced in large parts of the country today.

Two women from the Padaung, an ethnic group in Myanmar, are sitting in the entrance hall of the silk factory. They are wearing the traditional necklace that has earned the members of the Padaung the derogatory name “long neck”. In Thailand in particular, the long-necked women are marketed as tourist attractions and can be seen in various “Long Neck Villages”. These “human zoos” are a cruel and reprehensible practice.

Chris is torn whether he should photograph the two women. Although they work here, they are obviously placed prominently in the entrance area for tourist purposes. It’s the curse of photography – images can quickly reproduce clichés and the expected, and thus shape norms and ideals. This has happened in the fashion industry as well as in decades of cultural ethnography.

In the end, Chris opts for the middle way: he slowly approaches the two women and asks them with hand signals and glances if he can take a photo of them. They agree and are delighted with the beautiful shots that Chris shows them on his camera.

The night bus takes us over winding and dusty roads to Ngwe-Saung on the west coast on the Bay of Bengal. Here we relax for a few days before heading to the country’s largest city – Yangon.

We visited Yangon back in 2012 for the first, free election. The landmark of the city, if not the entire country – the Shwedagon Pagoda – touched and enchanted us back then. For us, this sacred place, which is so important for Burmese Buddhism, is one of the most beautiful in the whole of Southeast Asia. We are eager to see it again.

Even from afar, we can see it glowing golden. Our hearts beat faster as we climb the stairs. In front of us is an area full of shrines, relics and Buddha statues. Everything shimmers golden, the white marble floor reflects the colors and the golden light, even the moon seems to cast a golden glow on us. Although many people come up here every evening, it is not too crowded or even too loud. There is a relaxed reverence about everything. People are praying or meditating. We also settle down in a corner of a pavilion to soak up the moment and pause for a few minutes.

We look back on exciting weeks in Myanmar. Now our paths will part: Chris will stay in Yangon for another three months, working and researching. Vany will fly home.

February is coming to an end. Tabodwe is the eleventh month of the traditional Burmese lunar calendar. Today is a very special day: full moon. This day heralds the end of the cool winter season. In fact, the mornings in some places have been mild, almost chilly. That is now over. From now on, the days get hotter until around mid-April. Then the Burmese year comes to an end with the big water festival.

But now it’s time for Htamanè. The rice dish is prepared all over the country to mark the full moon in the month of Tabodwe, preferably in monasteries and often as a competition: who can make the most delicious Htamanè? I have been invited to the University of Yangon. The individual departments have prepared their huge woks and fireplaces on campus. There are dance and show performances. Then the competition begins. The teams light the fires, cook rice, add various ingredients and knead the mixture in rhythmic unison with long paddles. The fire has to be stoked again and again. Beads of sweat form on the participants’ foreheads. The audience cheers and applauds.

At the end, the winners are crowned and the deliciously fragrant htamanè is distributed to all the guests. A wonderful celebration.

On a hot Sunday afternoon, I want to go to the other side of the Hlaing River. This borders the huge city of Yangon to the west. On the other bank are small, sleepy villages. Officially, they are part of Yangon’s urban area, but in reality, time seems to have been turned back decades.

A ferryman takes me to the other side in his tiny boat. There is not much to see there. Just simple, Burmese life with simple, open huts. Hardly any cars, but all the more bicycles and scooters. Children playing in the street. A large banana market. There is a small street café on one corner. I settle down to have a hot tea and some pastries – deep-fried dough rings. A quiet, unexcited everyday life unfolds around me.

In the capital Yangon, right on a busy main road in the heart of the city, close to the zoo, lies an abandoned amusement park. It was probably opened in 1997 under the military government of the time and had everything the city’s inhabitants needed to have a good time: carousels, a swing boat, bumper cars, the first roller coaster in the country, a panoramic ride and many other smaller rides. Around 15 years later, the park closed – it is not known why. Since then, it has lain abandoned, gradually being reclaimed by nature and has so far been spared any serious vandalism. In contrast to many other lost places, this leisure park has little that is threatening about it. It is a peaceful place in which the laughter of days long gone reverberates. At the same time, it is a parable for the country’s most recent history. Launched into democracy with great pomp and international acclaim, it was only a brief, prosperous and liberal period of ascendancy before the old military generals took back what they considered their property: the country, the people, their soul and their future.

Evenings in Yangon are hot and full of life. There are the simple barbecue restaurants where the air smells of charcoal and grilled meat. The floor is sticky, the waitresses’ skirts are tight, the customers are simple workers in search of entertainment and beer. The atmosphere is exuberant and relaxed. Sometimes it gets violent, then everyone is in a hug.

In contrast, there are the chic rooftop bars and restaurants behind high glass windows. This is where expats, employees of international organizations, NGOs and embassy staff meet. Burmese who have money also come here. So do women accompanied by a white man or those looking for a “Westerner”. The usual game.

In between, there is the whole range of culture: young people playing folk songs on their guitars at night with beer and a full moon. Jazz concerts by internationally acclaimed artists. Classical performances that combine musical elements from Europe and Asia. Pubs packed to bursting point, where the audience roars to the hard guitar riffs of local punk bands. Queer stand-up comedians cracking raunchy jokes.

Yangon in spring 2019 seems to be very close to a liberal and democratic society. It is easy to forget that there is still bloody fighting in large parts of the country. In fact, the fighting in this country has never ended.

On a hot March weekend, I board the intercity bus to Hpa-an. The small town is touristy, situated on a river and surrounded by vast rice fields, hills and mountains. The best way to explore the region is by scooter. Deep caves lead through the mountains. There are numerous Buddha statues and holy shrines. Bats hang from the ceilings – in the evening they will fly out of the caves in gigantic streams and populate the night sky.

The Kyaut-Ka-Latt pagoda is enthroned on a bizarre rock in the middle of an artificial lake. A wooden ladder, rickety and not exactly confidence-inspiring, leads up to the top. Monks sit in the shade of the trees, smiling at me.

The following night, I drive to Mount Zwegabin. Buddha statues line the starting point of a steep and poorly constructed path to the top of the 722-metre-high mountain. I manage the sweaty ascent just in time for sunrise. Shortly before I reach my destination, I meet an old man. He tells me that he makes this several-hour climb every morning to meditate at the top and light a candle.

The sunrise is gentle and in pastel colors. Clouds drift past me and obscure my view. I sit down and take a deep breath. The air is fresh, a light breeze blows and cools my heated skin. Suddenly the clouds break and I look out over a country so beautiful and rich that I have taken it firmly into my heart in the few months I have been here. Here, in the rising sun, I forget the suffering and violence, the cruel past and the uncertain future of this country.

Before my time in Myanmar comes to an end, I will go back to Dawei on the Andaman Sea and enjoy the long dream beaches. Day by day, I will dive deeper into Yangon’s soul and learn to love this city as much as the rest of the country. I will look back on many friendships and casual acquaintances that have brought me closer to this country and its culture than almost any other before.

As I wait at the airport in Yangon for my plane to Bangkok, I believe that Myanmar will soon return and have a prosperous future. During my three-month stay, I felt free, even though I was confronted with abuses and civil rights violations at every turn. But I recognize a way out, a path to recovery.

Just a few months after leaving Myanmar, it will take Covid-19 to bring the world to a standstill. All eyes are on the pandemic and China. In March 2021, the Burmese military seized the opportunity to overthrow democracy. Since then, the country has been engulfed in a bloody civil war. In just a few months, everything that had been built up over the years was destroyed. Myanmar will end up like every other regime – history shows that. One day, the people will defeat the state terror. A new government will come to power, perhaps changing fate for the better, perhaps for the worse. History repeats itself in endless loops.

Info about our trip

Overview

Budget

Food

Accomodation

Safety

Child-friendliness

Moving around

Worth reading