Ticket to the Golden Land

Today's Thoughts...

One month ago today, I was hurtling down the side of a steep mountain overpass, shrieking in unknown tongues and clinging to the frayed ropes of an overhead luggage rack for dear life. The twinkling of the stars above me, which minutes before had cued tranquility and reflection on my content state in life, complete with sweet sighs of satisfaction that it wouldn’t be so bad if I died right then, gloated gleefully above me as I searched them in vain for some answer to my current predicament. I was riding atop a songtaew pick-up truck (<-- see example at left) in the middle of the night in Burma, more recently known as Myanmar, that far-flung outback of Southeast Asia books serve up on a succulent platter of savory seclusion and delectable discovery with a hearty helping of mouth-watering misadventure thrill-seekers salivate over. (Excuse me while I locate my rib-shack bib.) Many of the rumors are true. Burma is much unlike any other place I have ever laid eyes on during my adventures through the southern Orient. It is every bit as “unspoiled and untamed” as romanticizing writers make it out to be. There are almost no flocks of camera-touting tour groups and screaming infant wielding families to speak of. So few tourists and the mere shadow of foreign interloping infrastructure as predominant in Thailand and elsewhere in the region truly give the country the feeling of being untouched. Economic sanctions from the West and stiff visa requirements (does it really matter where I worked six years ago??)ensure that.

As are many conscientious travelers to that country of lore, we were ever hesitant to go in the first place, unwilling to ply the ruling military regime with our funds. (The brutal military dictatorship officially began in 1962 under the rule of General Ne Win and is continued today following “elections” in the fall of 2010. The factitious nation, recognized as Southeast Asia’s most diverse, with its troubled timeline boasts over a hundred ethnic groups to date prompting the regime’s brutal campaign of “soothing” ethnic divisions by eradicating all opposition and cracking the whip on perceived subversive and anti-government activities. In the past and present, the government has relied on secrecy, spying, beatings, jailing, torture, and disappearances—the tools of terror and tyranny in any nation. Freedom fighter, Nobel icon, and daughter of the nation's contemporary forefather, Daw Aung San Suu Kyi was placed under strict house arrest in 1989, freed only months ago in November of 2010.) Yet after months of hesitation, re-considerations, and lengthy conversations we decided we needed to go, provided that we made every effort once our feet touched the ground to put money in the hands of the people—no package tours, limiting in-country flights, no beer, no government-affiliated guest houses, etc. It was a hard choice to make, but having seen so many faces of Asia, we knew it was time to bring our travels and time here full circle. Because it is important that Burma not be forgotten, however far foreign attention and media has strayed. If no one sees it, then no one remembers, and if everyone forgets, how will anything ever change?

We knew we were in for something different when we heeded repeated warnings from others to bring only the crispest, freshest US dollars with us into the country (no wrinkles, crinkles, writing, bends, or tears). Considering the dearth of ATMs (there are none) in country, we were leery of toting around hundreds of USD in cash, but resigned to the practice nonetheless. Hearing that some teachers and just Americans in general had been mysteriously denied visas in the past, we skipped the courier service and went to the embassy in Bangkok in person. We smiled winning grins, nodded heads of sheer innocence, and answered any questions the immigration officers had with a sickening saccharine sweetness that made my teeth ache. (Okay, I’ll lay off the alliteration for a bit :P) We were able to show proof of our imminently departing flight and for a slight extra fee, handed over our 1260 baht and were awarded visas by early afternoon: perfect same-day service. Check.

The flight from Bangkok to Yangon was quick and relatively painless. The immigration point at passport control was another story. I’m not sure how many times they scrutinized my numerous visas, stared at me as they whispered and chuckled sinisterly in Myanmar language, and eventually, after a thorough search that would have surely granted me access to Air Force One, reluctantly allowed me to enter the Golden Land. Day One in Burma. Hello, Yangon.