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.