Had delay in getting my visa on arrival in Yangon, in spite of having all my papers in order, we couldn't communicate why my cash money is not acceptable to pay for the $30 fee, had to get my tour guide to interpret. The problem is my money had a fold in it in spite of the bill not having any blemish or tears at all, and still very crisp and new, just the previous fold, apparently it has to be minted fresh from the press, I got away with a near perfect bill that the visa officer reluctantly accepted. Then later when I tried to exchange for their currency, the Myanmar Kyat, all my bills were refused because the serial number did not start with AB. My tour guide said, not to worry, he can get my $ converted in the black market but of course I get a lower exchange rate. I cannot use my credit cards and my ATM. How can tourists spend money if they can't convert them. But people just shrug it off, there's the black market of course that deal with it, and life goes on, why sweat the details. Aung San Suu Kyi is beloved and popular, people are holding their breath and preparing for the worst in anticipation of elections next month. News a few hours ago says she has fallen ill with vomiting, had to get IV drip, and she had suspended her campaigning. MOTORBIKES ARE BANNED IN YANGON! Nada, not a single one on the streets. Apparently a general's offspring in jest made a shooting gesture at an officer while on a motorbike, and the military was not amused. There are high rise luxury condos that are unfinished because the investors halted financing the project because the powers keep on changing the rules. And facebook and many websites are blocked,but the people knows how to go around that, in fact I was able to check in to facebook at The Strand Hotel. However there are very few with computers, and internet cafes are sparse, and the country is not hooked up throughout, just the major tourist cities. New cars are unaffordable, in the hundred thousand dollar range, so many cars are gasping along that go way back into the 50's, but Myanmar was never a Havana so they don't have those colorful vintage beauties on the road, just clunkers. Having said those, the antiquities are breathtaking, spectacular,magical, stunning, priceless, really treasures. The 2500-year-old Shwedagon Pagoda complex easily tops all the pagodas I've visited on this trip. The people still wear traditional dress for everyday, the women wear no modern make-up but the pasty cream made from a certain plant, yellow-ochre in color that they paint on their faces and arms, also serves as a sunscreen. Next stop, Bagan, where there are yet more pagodas and buddha statues.
http://gallery.me.com/mimanmetty#100064
Sunday, April 08, 2012
Thursday, April 05, 2012
The Road to Mandalay
The mismash of uninspired 70‘s buildings and bamboo and thatched huts and vendors crowding and littering the avenues, food stands cooking and washing pots and dishes right on the street and patrons scattered on low plastic stools and tables, appearing unwashed, ungroomed, and sweaty in the scorching 104 degree F, killed all the romantic nostalgia I have about this land I’ve read and dreamed about. The Irrawaddy, that great river that sprung from the Himalayas and cuts through the length of the country to empty into the Andaman Sea is wrapped in noise from motorboats and unable to claim back it’s tranquility. It’s banks are strewn with plastic bags and aluminum cans, and dolphins that played in its waters will soon be just a memory.
The road to Mandalay is a swirl of dust and careening Toyota pick-up trucks converted to buses groaning in the heap of passengers, produce, swine and fowl. Where the dawn burst out like thunder in the east now is a mellow red ball muted by the haze and smog of slash and burn agriculture and motorbike exhaust. But on Mandalay Hill you can still see the golden magnificence of the Mahamuni and the grandeur of the Kuthodaw. And a sweet Burmese lass, her cheeks painted with thanaka, still awaits her soldier to claim her and take her away to a land of milk and honey.
http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.277108189033168.63170.100002019670806&type=1&l=3d2b72f0b2
The road to Mandalay is a swirl of dust and careening Toyota pick-up trucks converted to buses groaning in the heap of passengers, produce, swine and fowl. Where the dawn burst out like thunder in the east now is a mellow red ball muted by the haze and smog of slash and burn agriculture and motorbike exhaust. But on Mandalay Hill you can still see the golden magnificence of the Mahamuni and the grandeur of the Kuthodaw. And a sweet Burmese lass, her cheeks painted with thanaka, still awaits her soldier to claim her and take her away to a land of milk and honey.
http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.277108189033168.63170.100002019670806&type=1&l=3d2b72f0b2
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