More on Myanmar: From trekking to election time

Many people ask the question: is it Myanmar, or is it Burma?

Officially the country is known as Myanmar (err officially, the Republic of the Union of Myanmar). All of the locals I interacted with, also referred to it as this. Before 1989, when the name was officially changed, Myanmar was known as Burma. But this word was taken from the dominant ethnic population the Burmese, or Bamar people. And, as I quickly learned on my first of two mountain treks to remote villages, the name Burma, was not considered inclusive of the 135 distinct ethnic groups recognized in the country of 53 million people. Not everyone here is Burmese; they might be Shan or Palaung or Kachin, etc. So, collectively they are all the people of Myanmar.

After my adventures with big cities and temples, I ventured to the north eastern Shan state of Myanmar, where many of these aforementioned minority groups live in green hills, growing vegetables, rice and tea, herding their cattle and caring for their working water buffalo. Where Shan noodle soup is ubiquitous and smiles of white and red teeth abound.

I embarked on my first three day trek from the cool mountain town of Kalaw. Where we spend two days hiking through such a varied landscape. Mostly green hills, patched with different forms of vegetable growing on the first and second day, and on the third, descending 900 meters to Inle Lake, a large freshwater lake where fishermen paddle their canoes with one leg, and floating farms abound.

During my second hike, I was lucky to be walking along side a Palaung man, whom walked myself and two other solo travelers to his village, where they grow much of the countries tea supplies, 16 kilometers outside of Hsipaw, also in Myanmar's Shan state.

The varied villages and ethnic minority groups I had the chance to learn about and interact with on these two treks were varied - with different arts and crafts, different clothing and dress. They grew different foods (though I saw a lot of rice, peanut, corn, tea, cabbage and other mixed vegetable fields), lived in homes that were constructed out of slightly different materials. All were predominately Buddhist and some practiced Animism (spirit worship). All meals centered around rice and vegetables, and were cooked over open fires inside the house. Tea was central to every break, every meal, every time you had nothing else to do. Cows and water buffalo plodded by at all hours of the day, often guided or ridden by their caretakers.

Staying in these villages was refreshing. To see people living simply in this world, gave me hope. Sure, you'd see the odd person with a cell phone, and most houses had government given solar panels for their two light bulbs come nighttime, but neighbours were very close, chatting as they passed one another, and hearing through one thin wall to the house next door. They used one another as the bank (borrowing money, that they then promised once the tea harvest was complete for example). And the children could be seen freely rushing out of their small schools, for their walk home. With metal tiffon lunch container in hand, and woven bookbag to the side of their green longyi (i.e. wrap around skirt) and white top uniform, they egarly ditched their book bags to throw their home made wooden tops, or play a jump rope game with their friends on the dusty pathways. No cars flowed through their 'streets'. Just the odd motorbike, and lots of feet and hooves. No running water, just rainwater storage tanks, or piped spring water from mountains higher up.

Best of all, to the extent of my interactions with these people, they are very happy.
Not at all under developed or less developed. I was always comfortable, safe, clean and (deliciously) well fed. Though without electricity and running water, with super simple houses and no streets to speak of, they, to my eye, seemed more developed. They work very hard in their fields in the day, and they have family and community to do it all with, and that's more then so many people can say who live surrounded by hundreds of neighbours in 'communities' within cities in North America.

I hope for such a redefinition of  'development' in the west. I hope we further 'develop' our family and community connections, and that we progress towards the realization that consumption and consumerism is not necessary for happiness and comfort, and that it feels good to work hard sometimes. 

On the trail from Kalaw to Inle Lake

The path down to the toilet, during my first nights stay in a small Shan village

86 year old woman weaving bags with a loom strapped to her body

The chef, cooking up a delicious storm in the kitchen 

House in the village - with beans drying and cow cart parked

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In a separate topic I've felt inspired to write about, the people of Myanmar are on such an interesting road to democracy.

Though, they are far from what I consider democracy.

The people of Myanmar that I had the opportunity to meet and converse with are hopeful and patient people. Though I interacted briefly with many locals that exuded such qualities, the people I had the most interaction with were my two (smart) guides on the treks I went on, whom I conversed with for long periods of time at depth during our long walks and quiet, dark nights together. I get the sense that many of the people of Myanmar understand what a democratic government might mean for them, and what this country would look like if there was an end to the long years of military rule.

Myanmar was a one party state between about 1962 and 2011, led by military group called the junta. There has been numerous uprisings and protesting to this government, especially during the 1980s and 1990s when elections were won by the National League for Democracy (NLD) party, but the election results were ignored by the ruling military. These were also the years when the inspiring advocate for democracy, Aung San Suu Kyi was on house arrest for not so fair reasons.

Myanmar has an election coming up, in November, but people are discouraged about the possible outcome, because of continued corruption and forced changes in the constitution which mean that the NLD party leader (Aung San Suu Kyi) cannot win the election. The current constitutional changes that were put forth (not for debate) some years ago, mean that 25% of seats in the Myanmar parliament will always be filled by the military, and that no person who is married to a foreigner or has mixed race children can become president.

This are both important factors in this country electing a truly progressive government (because 25% of seats will still be held by the corrupt conservative military) and it also means that the Nobel peace prize winning Aung San Suu Kyi cannot be elected as president because she is a widow of an English man.

This is just a small bit of a foray into Myanmar politics...

Because of these reasons and so many others (e.g. all money from resource exploitation seems to stay in the deep pockets of military officials, bribing small villagers to vote for the military party if they offer a asphalt road or solar panels, etc.) fighting between military and rebel groups (achem, groups who simply desire justice) continues in many areas of Myanmar. This has forced some small villages to relocate to safer areas, and has kept much of the country to off limits to visitors like myself.

I write all this as Canada too prepares for election time. And it is an election I feel so so emotionally involved in... Having had a conservative government for 11 years now, I've seen environmental legislation get scrapped, arts funding get cut, election policies making it more difficult for students and lower income people to vote, security and censorship get increasingly, freakishly, big brother-esk, and important public organizations (e.g. Canada post and the CBC) being privatized or getting funding cut. I'm frustrated, and honestly, scared, for the future of Canada should an NDP or liberal government not get elected.

These Canadian political problems are so different then those in Myanmar, and so many other countries, I acknowledge that. I am more fortunate then so many.

But in truth, I question the democratic value of the government in Canada. Where, in the election of 2011, only 38% of Canadians who voted actually wanted this (stupid, whoops did I type that) conservative government. I feel like this government neglects everything public, the things that keep us alive, like common air, forest, water. They seem to have been successful in breeding a more fearful Canada as the conservatives spend more money on fighter jets and censorship. Their words are brainwashing us, and we aren't consciously aware of it.

Traveling abroad makes me love Canada more then ever. Even the fact that I can write this blog criticizing the government is a privilege so many don't have. But I love it for reasons that I am scared will not be reasons anymore should a conservative government be re-elected...

Please please please, for me, for your daughter, your son, for your neighbour, for a healthy and strong Canada do not vote conservative. And if you're stuck on whom then to vote for, so that votes aren't split between NDP and Liberal in your riding, check out the website www.Leadnow.ca where you might be able to see which candidate is more likely to win in your riding, and therefore where to meaningfully place your vote.

The guide on my second trek, Omoug, a Palung man, showing a tea plant! 

Water buffalo hard at work, ploughing a field to plant peanuts in

Almost at Inle Lake! This man was carrying quite a load of firewood

Mountainside views

Woman at the market who I bought fresh peanuts from

Inle Lake fisherman using the traditional leg paddle style

Myanmar Magic. Burmese Beauty.

Shan noodle soup - the famous dish of north eastern Myanmar, a simple rice noodle soup, always served with endless green tea, fermented vegetables, spice as you like.

My view from the circle train - a commuter train that circles around Yangon city

Two Buddhist nuns praying in front of one of the many Buddha shrines at Shwedagon Paya, a major pilgrimage place for thousands of Buddhists 

Green Beetle leaves displayed in spirals, and chopped up pieces of Areca nut (from a species of palm). The combination of these two things as well as liquid lime and a sprinkle of tobacco make up the little green package that people stuff in their mouths, chewing it up to a blood red pulp. It creates stimulating, alert effects in the body, while long term effects are far less positive.

A photo from a small red temple I rested in for a while in Bagan, a massive flat landscape dotted with ancient temples.

From the roof of a temple in Bagan.

Another new place, another new culture, another new adventure. 

This particular one got off to a funny start.

I say 'funny' As an adjective now, not to describe it as comical, because it was everything but. However, it was challenging, strange, upsetting, and well, funny.

I was unable access any of my money, and unable to use my credit card too. Upon researching the money scene in Myanmar pre-arrival, I was happy to read that there were plenty of ATMs accepting international cards. What I had not counted on, was that all of the (likely 22-my best estimate) of said ATMs would not accept my particular cards...

And so I got my first taste of the kindness that seems to exude from Burmese people. As I strolled through the bustling, vibrant streets of the country's biggest city, Yangon, From bank to bank, I visibly became more and more upset and worried that my Myanmar plans were crushed, that I'd literally have to return to Thailand, where I had come just one day before. A few locals helped by letting me use their cell phones to make international calls to my banks (as internet is so slow in Myanmar, no online phone calling service such as Skype works), one by driving me in the drip drop rain, down one of the busy streets to the Canadian embassy whom he thought may be able to help. Another offered me some Kyat for lunch money, and as I eagerly, embarrassingly waved him off, he stuffed it in my hand anyway, insisting "friend, please don't cry, it will all be okay". And of course, it was all okay. What seems like the biggest problem in the world today, is so often cause for reflection tomorrow. Sweating the small stuff sometimes means feeling cleansed the next day, clearer and more able to recognize what really sets oneself off, what really evokes struggle.

After brainstorming many ways with other traveler's to get a hold of my money, I eventually called in the support of my family-Krista to the rescue, to lend me some money via western union wire transfer, an extremely easy process.

But had I not had the family resources to make this happen, my trip in fact would have been much different, if non existent. In my home life in Canada, I'm able to rely much less on money - I am a part of communities where I can borrow, share, dumpster dive food, ride a bike, sleep on a friends floor. But in the world of solo travel, such things are not available to me, and so my reliance on the monetary capitalist system is necessary (especially in Myanmar, where things like couch surfing are technically illegal for tourists, and camping without a guide or special permit illegal too).

Money. It's quite the commodity. Makes things so easy, and grants privilege so blatant. The weight of that is sometimes so heavy... My eagerness to step away from the capitalist system is prominent, but I'm so a part of that very system...is it ever possible to untangle oneself? And it felt so strange, to be in a place, where I assume I am (normally) able to access far more money then the average person in Yangon, but yet to have people offering me to make expensive long distance phone calls and giving me lunch money...

Money problems now set aside, I started exploring Yangon. I my first day simply walking all over downtown. Observing the street life - golden brown Indian style dosa pancakes being fried, noodle soups being prepared all at makeshift cookery set ups under (sometimes) less then adequate tarps. People piling into buses, while horns are honking. Umbrellas being raised and lowered constantly in this rainy green city. Every ten meters a blood red smile from a man chewing beetle nut, a mild plant stimulant many people in Myanmar chew. Dodging the blood red spit piles in the streets around my steps, observing the packed tea shops, where everyone sits on very low plastic chairs, talking with friends or watching a soccer game, sipping either Chinese style green tea, or strong black tea sweetened and creamed. There most certainly is no shortage of things to look at in the streets of Yangon.

Other things that marked my time in Yangon was my visit to the Buddhist pilgrimage destination - the Shwedegon Paya. A massive and shimmering complex of temples, I only saw maybe 5 others foreigners while I was there, but saw many more Burmese visitors, many of whom motioned that they wanted to take a photo of me, the 'white' sheep of sorts. I think I'm on at least 16 Burmese people's phones or cameras up to this point. It is at this place that you can find hundreds of other sanga to pray with, as everyone takes their turns at every Buddha statue prostrating three times on the ground. They walk slowly, placing flowers at the Buddha shrine that represents the day of the week that they were born on, and pouring 5 cups of sacred holy water on the head of the Buddha statue, for good karma.

I spent a morning on the 'circle train' too. This is a rickety old train that runs approximately 50 km around the city, and is their version of a local commuter train. Along with my new Kiwi friend Milly, we decided randomly to disembark at the North east side of the loop where out the window we saw an active market place. Whew, what a stop choice.

We meandered the juicy narrow walkways between vendors staring at us, and responding with generous smiles as we announced the greeting "mingalaba"! They were selling all manner of vegetables and fruits, and also meats and spices, rice and preserved bamboo. It was a sensory experience to walk around this makeshift market place, in all its intensity, business, and mucky steps. We boarded the train again an hour and a half later, after taking a walk on the other side of the tracks through a tiny village, where children squealed as they threw their tops off the string, and where yet more locals, baffled by our presence, smiled and said hello.

Now I write from the Bagan area. Where I've rented a bicycle for two days to explore this majestic landscape of ancient temples. This place is so stunning in a unique way, quiet, sunny and green. Here, where past kings of this country insisted on building hundreds of Buddist temples, is a flat plain landscape studded with red brick style temples-most of them having undergone some element of restoration, and all of various sizes.

I meandered on my bicycle down the quietly trafficked main road, and followed my whims. I cycled down quiet sandy roads until finding a temple I was drawn to. Parking my bike under a tree, I walked up to the temples, often only finding only one other pair of sandals at the threshold. These sandals were often those of the local "key holders"- the person whom cared for the temple, could point out concealed crumbling murals on the interior walls and ceilings, and could unlock the sometimes hidden narrow rock staircases to exterior upper platforms, offering jaw dropping views across the temple ridden plain, over the Ayeyarwady River to the low hills beyond. 

These temples were built during a frenzy of development demanded by the king, between the 11th and 13th century. This took place as Myanmar experienced the transition from Hindu and Mahayana Buddhist belief systems, to that of a Theravada Buddhist belief system (which is still the predominant religion in most of Southeast Asia).

I found many moments of awe and solitude, reflection and calm, during my cycle rides and moments alone exploring these quiet rock and brick temples, enjoying the strong breeze, and looking out over a landscape with locals herding their goats, Palm fruit trees reaching for the heavens, and the calming sound of the most familiar (and illusive to me) bird through all of Southeast Asia.