A magical trip ro dazzling Yangon
Jason Volker, Contributor, Yangon
"My friend, do you know that your parents give you a bad name?"
"Huh?"
"The name `Jason', no good for you. Sound is wrong."
"Oh."
"Planets say you must have name with letter `d'. `D' make you rich man."
"Hmm ... how about David?"
"Yes, David very good name ... no, wait, letter `i' no good for you."
Fifteen minutes with Thoung Htine Fae, a silver-haired fortune teller at the Chaukhtatgyi Pagoda in Yangon, is an enlightening experience.
As we sat cross-legged beside a giant lounging Buddha, Thoung also revealed I should be wary of slippery bathroom tiles "until the moon begins waning", and it would be "most unwise" to fly for the next two weeks.
"But I'm only here for three days, then I'm flying to Bangkok!"
The wispy-bearded astrologer wrinkled his brow for a moment, then in an upbeat tone replied "Good luck!"
Yangon (formerly Rangoon), the largest city in Myanmar (formerly Burma), was a quiet riverside town until 1885, when conquering British troops turned it into a quiet riverside capital. Nowadays, as it tentatively opens its doors to the 21st century, Yangon is one of the globe's most exotic and rewarding destinations.
Svelte beauties in colorful longyi sarongs parade past the colonial grandeur of the Strand Hotel. Wizened betel nut peddlers welcome visitors into bustling teahouses packed with cheroot- smoking locals. Pious families offer alms to maroon-robed monks in exchange for whispered blessings in the soft glow of dawn.
But what makes Yangon so singularly spectacular is that it boasts one of the wonders of the world, the Shwedagon Pagoda. I defer to the great Rudyard Kipling for a description: "Then a golden mystery upheaved itself on the horizon -- a beautiful, winking wonder that blazed in the sun .... "
Waddling through the Shwedagon's western entrance, as my bedazzled eyes adjusted to the glaring splendor of it all, I literally stopped in my tracks. Stunning. Overwhelming. Magical.
I realize I'm gushing but it's difficult not to gush about a 100 meter-high pagoda covered in 8,000 gold plates, which is topped by a 13 meter umbrella containing 500 kilograms of 24- carat gold and 83,000 pieces of jewelry, all of which is crowned by a 56-centimeter golden orb encrusted with 4,350 tiny diamonds and a huge, 76-carat sparkling diamond at the apex.
It is said there is more gold on the Shwedagon Pagoda than is held in the Bank of England. Even rainwater that falls on this holy site is collected to recover washed away fragments of the precious metal.
What's more, this stupendous stupa is encircled by 82 ornate buildings lodging original Buddha relics (eight strands of hair from Gautama Buddha), a twinkling array of spiritual sculptures and assorted other national treasures crafted from jade, gemstones and, yes, more gold.
Being some 2,500 years old, the Shwedagon is also a rich source of amusing anecdotes, my favorite involving a bumbling bunch of British soldiers from the 1820s. Commanded by the not- overly-bright General Campbell, this platoon of hapless plunderers tunneled through the pagoda in search of untold treasure. They discovered large quantities of dirt and zero quantities of untold treasure.
So in a huff, General Campbell swiped a 700-year-old bell made of gold, a bit of silver and lots of lead, which he managed to drop into the Yangon River while making his getaway to India. After numerous unsuccessful attempts to salvage his 24-ton booty, the generous General Campbell decided to "return it to the people of Burma" and quickstepped out of town.
The upshot of this story is that a year later some rather-more-bright Burmese fellows tied oodles of bamboo to the bell at low water, then sat back and cheered as the bell floated to the surface on the incoming tide. "King Singu Bell" now once again rests in the northwest corner of the Shwedagon compound.
Back in the city's central business district, I moseyed along Mahabandoola St. to find, bang in the middle of a busy traffic circle, Yangon's second great pagoda, the Sule Paya. This 2,000- year-old golden spire is rumored to contain yet another strand of hair from the enlightened scalp of Buddha.
By early evening the Sule was thronging with worshipers, some thrice bowing before lotus-postured icons, others trickling holy water over gently smiling statues, all sidestepping serene meditators who had somehow blocked out the din of passing traffic for a short shot of nirvana.
The following morning I hopped on a local bus headed for Kandawgyi Lake in the city's northern suburbs. The brief trip proved particularly enjoyable for I discovered Yangon buses drive on the right-hand side of the road, in right-hand drive vehicles.
This minor motoring goof-up meant that on reaching my destination, instead of alighting onto the footpath (as is customary bus-alighting behavior), the doors wheezed open on the left side of the bus and I stepped, trying to suppress my chuckles, into the middle of the street. It was then I noticed an aging white Toyota bearing down on me, which proved rather helpful in suppressing my chuckles.
Kandawgyi, or Royal Lake, lies in a haven of parklands within eyeshot of the Shwedagon Pagoda. The lake's main attraction is the comely Karaweik Restaurant, the city's most famous eatery. Built in the shape of a mythical karaweik bird (visualize a very cool duck), the restaurant is first choice for the wedding receptions of Burmese movie stars, pop sensations and fellow members of the Yangon "it" crowd.
The park also seems to be the city's wooing headquarters, as my leisurely stroll among the tropical greenery involved several tactful detours around canoodling young couples.
After lunch I parted with US$5 to browse the splendid National Museum back in inner Yangon. Of thousands of excellent exhibits, I was particularly smitten with some antique marionettes and a mini golden pagoda masterfully carved from a coconut shell.
But the real star of the National Museum is the legendary Lion Throne.
Nearly 150 years old, this towering seat of gilded teak was once used by Burmese kings when presiding over lawsuits. A regal remnant of the Mandalay Dynasty, it is now the last of its line after eight other Lion Thrones were destroyed in the fires of World War II.
Later that evening I phoned two Burmese friends of my wife, the debonair Tay and the charming Ninh, who weeks earlier had promised me a night on the town. They whirled by my hotel at 8 p.m. and whisked me off to the Green Elephant, a classy restaurant specializing in the curry-intensive local cuisine.
We feasted on fried fish topped with a spice blend majoring in lemongrass, a mildly fiery beef curry and a hearty braised eggplant number, all accompanied by mounds of fragrant jasmine rice. The food, perhaps best described as a fusion of Chinese and Indian fare, was outrageously good.
To stimulate digestion we popped into a perky nightspot called The Rhythm Room. That's when the real fun began.
As the Filipino band belted out Britney Spears' greatest hits, a sultry Burmese lady in a boob-tube and red miniskirt asked if I'd like to dance.
Returning my eyeballs to their sockets, I shook hands with Miss Win as she confidently led me to the floor. Tay let out a debonair hurrah, Ninh made tut-tutting noises.
As Win and I wiggled to Oops! I Did It Again, I slowly began noticing that practically every foreigner in the club was either wiggling with, giggling with, or unabashedly smooching with sultry Burmese ladies in boob-tubes and red miniskirts. The scene seemed a tad odd, but it wasn't until I saw an especially frisky pair leaving together that the penny finally dropped. Oops!
With Filipino Britney wailing "I'm noooot that innoooocent", I politely excused myself and skedaddled back to the safety of my table. Tay debonairly applauded, Ninh made tut-tutting noises.
My final day in Yangon involved spending all my kyat at the Bogyoke Aung San Market. Built in 1926, the market holds some 1,700 shops and, on an average day, about 10,000 shoppers. I'm convinced every product known to mankind is on sale here (and that includes traditional Burmese whoopee cushions).
A little good-natured bargaining will seal terrific deals on jewelry, silk, lacquerware, puppets, embroidered wall hangings and virtually anything else you'd hope to find in shopping heaven.
While flying out of Yangon later that evening, my mind flashed back to that kooky consultation with Thoung Htine Fae, soothsayer extraordinaire.
Since I was flying against astrologer's orders, I thought it wise to mumble a makeshift prayer for turbulence-free skies.
Oh, and from now on please call me "Dudley".
IF YOU GO
Where: Yangon rests on the banks of the Yangon River some 30 kilometers upstream from the Andaman Sea. Myanmar shares borders with Thailand, Laos, India, Bangladesh and China.
Getting there: Thai Airways International (phone 021 230-2551, email sales@thaiairways.co.id, www.thaiairways.com) has regular return flights from Jakarta to Bangkok, where connections can be made to Yangon.
On arrival, tourists must exchange US$200 into 200 FECs (Foreign Exchange Certificates).
When to go: Yangon is at its best from November to February when temperatures are cooler and it rarely rains. If you want to avoid the crowds try visiting in May, June or September.
Lodging: Budget travelers should try the Myanmar Holiday Inn (Mahabandoola St, between 37th St. and 38th St., phone 95-1- 240016) where basic rooms start at $6 a night.
For five-star luxury try the Sofitel Plaza Hotel (33 Alan Pya Phaya Road, phone 95-1-250388, fax 95-1-252478, www.sofitel.com) where excellent rooms start at $55 a night.
Dining: To sample the local cuisine visit Aung Thu Kha at 17 1st St., or the excellent 999 Shan Noodle Restaurant on 34th St. Tasty Indian food can be found at the New Delhi Restaurant on 29th St., or if you're hankering for some Chinese try Nan Yu Restaurant at 81 Pansodan St.
If you're in the mood for a romantic dinner the upmarket Green Elephant Restaurant at 12 Inya Rd. is recommended.
Getting around: Taxis are a convenient and economical way to navigate Yangon. If your budget necessitates adventure, try the cheap but crowded local buses. Or for a change of pace hail a rickshaw -- though a little hard to find, they are great for short trips.
Currency: It's best to carry US dollars (US$1 = 420 Myanmar kyats). There are no ATMs with access to international accounts, Visa and American Express credit cards (not MasterCard) are only accepted at major hotels, and traveler's checks are difficult to cash. Plenty of US dollars and a Visa or Amex card for emergencies are the way to go.
Reading: Lonely Planet Myanmar (Burma) contains all the info you'll need. On the web check out www.lonelyplanet.com/destinations, www.myanmar.com and www.nagani.com.