Shwedagon Pagoda

Around town...

Street Market

Synagogue ~ Yangon

Yangon

After a very peaceful week on the beach, we flew to the capital of Myanmar, Yangon.  Surprisingly, it had changed radically since our last visit six years ago.  At that time there was frustratingly slow internet, if at all.  There were no ATM machines.  The air was horribly yellow, thick with exhaust, and smoke from cooking fires.  It was dirty and decaying.  This time the airport was large and modern.  Clean bathrooms!  Our taxi was newer and the streets were not as clogged with traffic.  The government had issued an edict two years ago forbidding motorcycles within the city. Only policemen and mailman could have cycles.  The air quality had improved greatly due to the change.  We arrive at our lovely old villa, French owned, in the Golden Valley.  There were  four rooms in the main house, with teak floors, tall windows that opened onto the garden, surrounded by huge trees filled with birds.  Our hard bed was draped in mosquito netting, dark red window coverings and antique armoire completed the vintage room.  We had visited the restaurant in the garden on our last trip and had wanted to stay here.  The first night Ron and I walked to a nearby pub and had a beer, but walking isn’t easy here.  No sidewalks and plenty of curves and cars.  We decided to return and have dinner in the garden.  It was incredibly delicious.  Fish cooked in tomato, capers and wine.  Mashed potato with garlic!  A salad of fresh homegrown organic lettuces, radicchio and ripe creamy avocado!  This may not sound like much to us California folk,  but having a salad with avocado no less, is a major treat in Asia.  You really have to trust the people that wash your salad, the purity of the water, and the lettuce itself.  We felt blessed for the setting, and the pleasant service.  Those French really know how to make your dining experience charming, and they had trained the staff well.  We ended up eating all our dinners there the three nights we stayed.   We took taxi into the city the next day to explore the sights.  First we went to the only Synagogue in Myanmar.  It was over a hundred and fifty years old.  Only 20 remaining members, but every Friday night for Shabbat, expats and travelers come for services.  It was so serene inside and lovely.  I felt overwhelmed and grateful just to experience its sanctity.  Then we walked to the Strand Hotel.  Ron and I had stayed there in 1981, when it was a rundown relic of the British raj, and cost $12 a night.  It had a certain charm then and we loved it.  Now it is totally refurbished and elegant and cost $500 a night.   From there we walked through the street markets filled with fruit and veggies, sidewalk cafes with tiny tables and chairs, and merchants calling out their wears.  It was hot though so we taxi’d back to the sanctuary of the garden, and rested.  Got our second wind and, dressed in my new longyi, we went to the most sacred Pagoda in Myanmar, the Shwedagon Temple.  Women must cover their shoulders and legs, men no short pants.  No shoes, no socks.  Built over 2600 years ago, it is the oldest stupa in the world.  We joined many pilgrims  circumambulating the temples for the sunset.  When we arrived we noticed a woman organizing dozens of women who all carried short brooms.  We wondered what what that was about.  Then they lined up shoulder to shoulder across the broad marble walkways, and began to sweep in unison.  It was a devotional meditation, cleaning the temple walk for the barefooted devotees.  It was amazing.  Later as dusk descended, hundred of small dishes with tiny candles were lit encircling the temples.  We circled around the temple many times, watching the changing light and the faces of the Burmese enjoying their most sacred treasure.  The last day we relaxed.  Didn’t need to venture out as from that point we were satiated.  Enjoyed our garden, laying on the chaise under the tall trees.  I got shit on by a huge crow and when I went past the office the young manager saw me and handed me a tissue and told me it was “good luck.”   Right!  I have heard that before!  Another wonderful dinner and an early night before packing up, and flying back to Thailand the following afternoon.  

Ngapali Beach

First Sunset

Ngapali

We spent the past week on the Bay of Bengal, in the beachside town of Ngapali, after flying down from Bagan. Two short flights of under an hour each on the turbo props that zip in and out of the airports.  Land, people off, load more people, take off...  72 seats and rarely full.  It was absolutely a beautiful beach with velvety soft, white sand and clear, warm water. I was amazed it was so clean as there was no trash on the beach.  Our bay curved several miles in a gentle crescent with an island off shore where fisherman would take you to snorkel.  Lining the beach were rows of fixed palapa umbrellas and chaise lounges for the dozen or so resorts.  Very few tourists!  We were once again the only Americans with the majority of tourists French. Our resort had a huge beautiful pool facing the beach, but it was so cold it was a challenge to get in. Nights and mornings were surprisingly chilly.  Family owned restaurants with names like Green Umbrella, Sunset View, and Blue Sky lined the beach just a short walk from our hotel.  I love sitting at tables in the sand, watching the sun set with a drink, and the slow colorful evolution of day into night.  There were no bars, no discos, no noise!  Like the early days in Thailand or Bali, but without the crowds!  Sunsets were electric colored hues from red to gold with layers of oranges in between.  Our first night we hit happy hour at the first place we could walk to, tired from a day of travel.  Mojitos were in order and we settled in for the evening.  Fisherman took their boats out at night and you could see their lights dotting the horizon line like tiny sparkling jewels.  I learn that they never fish during the full moon, but never why.  We enjoyed fresh tiger prawns, red and white snapper, squid, and crabs, all pulled from the sea and bought that morning.  Everything was delicious.   Whereas in Bagan they gave you a dish of freshly sliced fruit when they bring you the check, here they fried a baby banana in butter and honey and it just melted into your mouth, about four tiny bites.  The days became a week. We did little but eat, walk, swim and lounge.  We were lucky that while we were there, wonderful longtime friends of ours from Switzerland were staying two months, as they do every winter, to escape the harsh cold in Europe.  We hadn’t seen one another for many years and it was a special treat to have several dinners and walks on the beach, catching up and reminiscing.  In Myanmar no less!  And by happenstance, or luck, we were there for the super moon and the total lunar eclipse!  Incredible to be on the beach in Southeast Asia, sipping a drink, and watching the show!  In my exuberance, I howled at the moon.  A few people caught my drift and we all laughed and danced in the sand.  It was difficult to leave.  We could have stayed much longer.  But we had a flight to catch...off to the capital of Yangon.

Buddha’s and Fresco

Temples