The Kindness Trail in Yangon

As soon as 2012 rolled in, travel editors started scurrying for stories on Myanmar. Despite the plethora of recently published articles on this emerging tourism destination, I personally wanted to experience what it had to offer first hand. But first it required securing a visa (Starting June 1, 2012, visa on arrival is available at the Yangon airport for business travelers) and crisp new US dollar bills without folds or marks. There are no international ATMs or credit card facilities in Myanmar, and they only accept crisp US dollar bills. Upon landing at Yangon International Airport, it was not the modern airport that impressed me, but the friendliness of the immigration officer. Most immigration officers around the world have an air of seriousness and formality. This lady engaged me in a long chitchat and then personally led me to the baggage carousel to pick up my suitcase. Little did I know, this was the beginning of a trail of warmth, kindness, and sincerity I would consistently experience in Myanmar from taxi drivers, money changers, hotel staff and expats.

Downtown Yangon

The thirty-minute taxi ride from the airport to downtown Yangon was in itself an adventure. The driver first adjusted the knot of his longyi (long checkered or striped skirt worn by men) before getting into an old cab dating back to the early 80’s. With my eyes wide open and hair wind blown by the alfresco ride, I gazed at the mix of old buildings and the new structures being built. I made a mental note of the many hotels I spotted. I wondered why my driver was driving on the wrong side of the road, only to realize both right and left hand vehicles are allowed on the streets of Myanmar. While there are no taxi meters, agreeing on a price of the fare before entering the cab was a suitable set-up.

In the evening, I met up with Karen, a young Filipina who had been working in an advertising agency in Yangon for the past year and a half. She took me to two favorites drinking spots of expats: The Savoy, her choice for intelligent conversation and 50th Street Bar and Grill where the tight-knit community mingle, shoot pool, and drink beers. Unlike other parts of Asia, Yangon has as a small, friendly expat circle, comprised mostly of international schoolteachers. No high-powered finance guys here. She told me about how muchYangon has changed since she arrived. There are definitely more advertising requirements coming her way, and she fears more expats will come and drastically ruin the cozy “where everybody knows your name” social scene.

Man wearing Longyi in the streets of Yangon

The next two days, I hopped in and out of a series of amusing cab rides to visit the attractions and recommended restaurants around Yangon. Being a food and travel writer, I was curious to sample Myanmar cuisine. Unlike neighboring Thailand, their curries and salads were not at all spicy. I hit two top restaurants serving Myanmar cuisine, Pandomar and Taing Yin Thar, which were both were virtually empty. On the very day Aung San Suu Kyi was receiving her Nobel Peace Prize in Norway, I found myself as the lone visitor at Bogyoke Aung San Museum allowing me to relish in seeing her bed as a young girl. When I inquired at the reception on the location of the nearest Catholic church, the hotel GM overheard and kindly walked three blocks to bring me to the nearest church. Early one morning, I  visited the fish market, where I stood out as the lone tourist amidst local women shopping for ingredients for lunch or men packing large Styrofoam boxes of fresh fish.  But they gave me big betel nut stained smiles and kindly obliged my requests to snap a few photos. 

Having fun at the Fish Market

At the Shwe Dagon, I was confused when asked for a 1000 kyat donation for a plastic bag to put my shoes in. I conceded. But when an employee of the Shwe Dagon temple noticed what happened, he kindly ushered me back to the lady manning the donation box to amend the situation. I received my 1000 kyat back. Clearly, they don’t take advantage of tourists here. When I asked the cab driver from Shwe Dagon to take me to a nearby Mohinga stall to sample this famous local fish soup, before taking me back to my hotel, he kindly agreed. He patiently waited while I ate this national dish of rice noodle catfish soup. I enjoyed walking safely and freely on the streets without being pestered for goods and services. But with the increased presence of tourists, young kids on the streets are starting to beg. A young boy asked for my bag of food saying, “Hungry! Hungry!” A young girl outside the historic Strand Hotel peddled postcards saying the same word, “Hungry.”

Coming from the Mekong Tourism Conference just prior to visiting Yangon, I learned tourism is top priority in Myanmar, expecting arrives to double in three years. The monsoon season usually means low occupancy, but during my visit, the hotels in Yangon - from affordable East Hotel to the posh hotels like The Strand - are all packed with international business travelers keen to see what the opportunities Myanmar has for them. As I checked out of my hotel, three potential Malaysian investors had to check out, too, as the hotel was full. They had to move to another hotel with a vacancy. More hotels are sprouting in Yangon to address the growing demand, and existing properties have to remain competitive. The Governor’s Residence, a 1920’s colonial home turned boutique resort, will be renovating in May 2013 to update its rooms. In the airport, I met a Japanese corporate lawyer, who had traveled from Osaka to connect with a Japanese client doing business in Myanmar. There are many more business travelers like him seizing opportunities in this emerging tourism destination.

Shopping At Bogyoke Aung San Market

Right now, there is a buzz in Yangon. It is the hum of a destination about to be famous. It is a special time, where tourists are warmly welcomed, yet the tourist footprint remains barely visible. There is a joy in getting a glimpse of an authentic city yet to be invaded by tourists. It is charming to receive a window knob from the cab driver when it rains, to roll up your window in the dilapidated cab. It is fascinating to watch the morning rush of men in longyi commuting with their tiffin containers alongside Buddhist monks carrying their begging bowls. There are still many opportunities for tourists like me to experience Myanmar’s genuine innocence and kindness of her people. My only wish is that it would last for years to come.

Monk in the morning with his begging bowl

Special thanks to the Ministry of Hotels and Tourism of The Republic of the Union of Myanmar for their help in obtaining a visa and Khiri Travel for facilitating my travel to Yangon.
This post also appears on
http://khiritravel.blogspot.com/2012/07/kindness-trail-in-yangon.html where I guest posted for Khiri Travel

to see more photos of my trip to Yangon, join me on Facebook/MaidasTouch or Twitter/themaidastouch

Thanks for reading. Maida's Touch. Golden delicious moments that spark a journey within! 

All rights belong to Maida Pineda 2012. No photo or text may be used without the permission of this author.

My Priceless Souvenirs from Thailand and Myanmar

Maida’s Touch’s Facebook update last June 24th read:
“15 days, 3 countries, 7 different hotel rooms, 6 airplane rides, 5 airports, countless taxi rides, 1 adventure...mmmm....it's good to be back home!”

I wrote that post hours after landing from an extensive trip around Thailand, a quick stop at Laos and my first visit to Myanmar. So after one big adventure what remains? Hundreds of photos, many contacts and scars from thirty plus mosquito bites are the tangible evidence of place and people I’ve met. After all these years, I don’t collect refrigerator magnets or key chains of the places I’ve been to. If I see something I like then I buy it. But on this particular trip I knew I would be moving around a lot, so my purchases were carefully considered. I have a small box of Emerald Thai Tea (naturally sweet green tea from Doi Mae Salong), fish sausages I got in Bangkok, two cotton scarves from our quick stop in Donsao, Laos, and embroidered coasters from the Lahu tribe. After unpacking, doing several batches of laundry, and settling back home, I did some soul searching. What remains after journey like this? What fed my spirit?

Truth is I cannot remember the names of all the places I had been to in the last 15 days. It is not they are not memorable, but Thai and Myanmar names of temples, mountains and people often have many syllables difficult for me to pronounce. Surely, the facts about a place are important to learn. But what stays with me are memories made and the stories entrusted to me. I long for true connection between people, and travel generously affords me that. I will not forget how a French gay man openly told me about his relationship with his mama in Paris, his love story, and the first time he wore high heels to a recent Madonna party. A few days before Father’s day, I found myself in a car listening to a dad lament how his son refuses to relate to him. The pain of this warm and helpful gentleman was palpable and real. All I could do was listen. A few hours after landing in Myanmar, I found myself sharing beers with a young Filipina who struggled with her faith and her sexuality. I listened with compassion, knowing she lived this tension every single day. In the airport waiting for my 90-minute late plane to arrive, time moved a tad bit faster sharing stories with a fellow Japanese passenger. There are other special stories, which you wish to keep only to yourself and lock in you heart.

Akha Lady pointing at me in the market in Doi Mae Salong

My favorite picture from this trip was snapped in my iPad. It is this one above of an Akha lady at the market in Doi Mae Salong. With all the moving around, I found myself not equipped with enough Baht. I had many other currencies in my purse, but few baht left. This lady was eager to make a sale of her souvenirs. The young lady with her was making a hard sell. She insists, the jewelry were made by Akha tribe. It is hard to believe for I had seen these bangles in many of the bargain stalls in Greenhills Shopping Center in Manila. I simply smiled at the enterprising young lady, not buying anything. But this animated Akha lady in traditional garb darted at me. I quickly snapped her photo on my iPhone. She then insisted I buy something from her. Nothing caught my eye, especially after knowing they were not authentic crafts. She pressed on, after all I had taken her photo. She felt it was her right to charge for the photo. I pulled the coins remaining amounting to 40 Baht. I said: “Sorry, this is all I have left.” She did not understand what I said. But she spoke in the local dialect. She pointed to a big cyst on her hand, as if to say she needs more help. I will never learn of this lady’s story. I won’t know the answer to my curious minds questions: is she dying of cancer? Is she in pain? I will never know what brought her to this mountainous region of tea plantations. But that is ok.

The purpose of travel is not about gathering MORE stories. For me, travel is about two people connecting as two human beings. It is an exchange of bits of you that matter with another soul entrusting you with bits of himself or herself that matter to them. At that moment, you connect deeply. For me that is priceless. It’s definitely worth is much more than a collection of refrigerator magnets. This to me is exactly what Maida’s Touch is about- golden delicious moments of food and travel. Truly priceless!

Copyright2012.MaidaPineda. No portion of this blog can be copied or used anywhere else without permission of the author.

Maida's Touch- Golden Delicious Moments That Spark a Journey Within!