When travelling to Yangon – or Rangoon, as it was called until some years ago – it is a good idea to leave some perceptions behind, something I learn within minutes of getting off the plane.

 

The cavernous customs arrival hall has the serenity of a church.

Everyone in line is self-possessed, at ease.

Of course, I think –this is the land of Buddha where calmness, tranquillity, quietude prevail.

 

I clear customs and step outside to total pandemonium. The air is thick with the fumes of beat-up old buses, trucks, taxis, scooters and cars all rushing to leave at once. A lone policeman is frantically blowing his whistle in a futile attempt to control a tsunami of vehicles.

 

“Is it always like this?” I gasp to the driver of the shuttle car to my budget hotel.

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“Like what?” he asks, genuinely mystified, and heads into the maelstrom.

 

As we near the centre of town, huge stages rise up on either side of the road. They’re for Thingyan, Myanmar’s New year Water Festival, the driver explains, when people douse each other in symbolic cleansing of the past year’s sins. There will be rock groups and the stages are outfitted with houses to spray as passing cars. That’s when I realize Yangon is going to be a little more complicated than I thought.

 

I feel the best place to start my journey is Yangon. Not only is the metropolis of four million Myanmar’s largest city, it is its cultural centre and until 2005 was the seat of government.

 

After that the administration relocated the capital to the custom-built city of Naypyidaw in central Myanmar.

 

My first day I am up shortly after dawn. This is partly because I want to do my exploring before the heat builds and partly to get some air. The lights and the air conditioning in windowless hotel room had quit at 1:30 in the morning, a
casualty of daily blackouts.

I start with old Yangon, the easiest to navigate because its streets are laid out as a neat east-west rectilinear grid, and head west on Maha Bandula Road towards the centre of town. I run across a busy intersection, then stop dead in wonderment on the other side.

 

Amassive complex of regal red brick buildings looms behind a phalanx of unkempt shrubbery. This is the British Secretariat built near the end of the 19th century. From here the British ruled all of Burma. Old photos of its glory days show an entire city block occupied by a turreted and domed building of palatial scale. Ruins like this are all over the old city. The government has program to restore many of these places, with over 180 buildings on a preservation list.

From the centre of town I turn south towards the river. But I get distracted by the alluring aromas of food stalls across the street. As I try to make culinary sense of what I see-the only food I recognize are triangular samosas

 

A poised young Burmese woman grace fully glides by, effortlessly balancing a towering basket of melons on her head. It strikes me how modestly Burmese women dress in tunic tops buttoned to the chin, ankle-length skirts.

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Buddhist monks, with begging bowls in their hands, begin their day.

I decide to forgo street snacks, for now, to check out the Yangon riverfront, once a busy port exporting rice and timber. Today it is a sleepy stretch of the Yangon River. The only traffic is a small freighter from Singapore and a creaky ferry.

 

I stroll to the Pansodan Jetty for a ride.

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For foreigners, the ticket is two US dollars. As with all transactions in Burma, foreigners have to pay with crisp dollar bills as if they had just come out of the press. I'll give the ticket seller two one-dollar bills. Then I pop into the registry book where I have to enter my name, nationality and passport number. The whole deal takes almost as long as the cruise itself.

 

The heat is building, but there is a breeze on the upper deck. As a bonus I get a long view of Yangon. What is remarkable is its skyline, or rather lack of one. Most of the city’s buildings rarely exceed seven stories.

 

I reserve my second day for the most famous sight in the city, the Shwedagon Pagoda, eight kilometres north of old Yangon. It is not only the holiest place in Myanmar, but a spot where the nation’s history, politics and religion intersect.

There are four sets of stairs to the top of Singuttara Hill where Shwedagon sits, each aligned with a point of the compass. My cab pulls up at the bottom of one. I take off my shoes and join pilgrims climbing an immense covered staircase. At the top I step out of deep shade into a tableau that is literally dazzling.

 

Sunlight bounces off the white marble plaza. Towering over it is a mammoth stalagmite of gold, aglow in the morning light. This is the 100 metre tall spike of the Shwedagon Pagoda, covered in some 60 tonnes of gold leaf. This pagoda, or stupa – a solid structure containing holy relics-was built to house eight hairs of Buddha brought here from India by two Burmese merchants. Legend says the site is 2500 years old. Arrayed around the spire are 64 ornate temples, monuments, statues, lesser pagodas, memorials, shrines and pavilions.

 

When a pleasant, middle-aged Burmese freelance guide, Lily, offers to take me on a one-hour orientation walk, I leap at the offer.

Every day, beginning at 4am when Shwedagon opens, pilgrims walk clockwise around the plaza. I am intrigued by the flow of people to prayer stations where they pour cups of water over two Buddhas and the figure of an animal at
their feet. There are planetary posts. There are eight, one for each day of the Buddhist week. Wednesday, a double day, is divided into am and pm.) Each has a representative animal (rat, lion, etc) and the ceremonial offerings are for each person’s creature.

There is history everywhere you turn. The hill was the scene of bloody hand-to-hand fighting during the Anglo-Burmese wars in the 1800s. Lilly takes me to view a memorial to eleven student protestors who, in 1920, demonstrated against the British. I also learn that Aung San Suu Kyi gave an important speech here in 1988, just before her 15 years of house arrest.

The next morning, my third day, I head to the Bogyoke Aung San Market, a bazar about a 45-minute walk north of downtown. Three-and-a-half hours later I have only explored half of the aisles which branch off the bustling main hall.
For me the chief appeal is not shopping but people watching. I am in a pantswearing minority. Most men have on the traditional longyi (which is how lungi is spelt here).

 

Two young monks who cannot be any older than ten are carrying a large wooden begging bowl. They come up to me for a donation. All Burmese money is paper and the script is unreadable to me. I put in the equivalent of either 50 cents or $50. I’m still wondering.

It is a continuing surprise how sunny and welcoming the Burmese are. One British tourist admitted he had the same reaction. They are not a depressed people. I have decided to go to the museum partly to glimpse the glory days of
Burma and partly because it is the first day of the Water festival. Since the holiday is celebrated with the antic carnival fervour, everyone is fair game. To be outside is to risk getting soaked.

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The museum still has a world-class collection of antiquities from the time of the Kingdom of Burma, even after the looting of previous years. It was a ruling class whose life was a single great gesture. In the 15th century, Queen Shin Sawbu donated an amount of gold equal to her own weight to the Shwedagon Pagoda, and her son-in-law, Dhammazedi quadrupled her own and his wife's weight.

By now I have moved to upperYangon to another hotel-one with electricity and windows in its rooms. It is near Inya Lake, a sprawling body of water dug by the British to be a reservoir. Today it sits in an upscale suburb, its shore lined
with embassies and residences of note, including the compound of Aung San Suu Kyi.

My new location made it easier to explore the northern part of the city. On my fifth day I stop at a place called Bike World Explore Myanmar to rent a bicycle and fall into conversation with Kyaw Kyaw, who is a 40-something Burmese ex-pat, a friend of the owner. He says his family emigrated to the United States from repression after the 1988 student protests. He has been returning regularly as a business consultant for the past three years, trying to start again in Burma. With the easing of sanctions, Burma’s economic situation may finally make the optimism of the country’s people a reality. "It's starting to start," he concludes when I ask about the future of his country.

 

On my last day in town I feel the urge to return to Shwedagon. The sun is setting and with the fading light comes a continuing and entrancing change in hues of the pagoda. Electric lights begin to wink on in the temples. A group of
female monks walk by in their stunning robes of red and pink, gold sash angled across their bodies.

All around is a vital, happy swirl of believers. I look up at the golden dome of Shwedagon and think of Rudyard Kipling’s comment the day he saw it for the first time.

“This is Burma, and it will be quite unlike any land you know about.”

Abridged from Yangon-the Curtain Rises by Doug Colligan (Reader’s Digest April-2014)

 

Word Notes:

perceptions : View points; understanding of things.
cavernous : very large
pandemonium noisy and confused situation
shuttle car : A Car making journey between two points.
budget hotel : A hotel in which rent, etc is cheap
maelstrom : a powerful whirlpool in the sea or a river
phalanx : a body of troops or police officers standing or moving in close formation, things grouped together
turreted : having the shape of a long spiral, with a tower on the tip
culinary : relating to food
stalagmite : long pointed piece of rock (here-gold) that rises from the floor.

 

SOLUTIONS

A. Based on your reading of the text, complete the following statements:

The huge customs arrival hall has the serenity of a church.

​

 During Thingyan, Myanmar’s New Year Water Festival, people douse each other in symbolic cleansing of the past year’s sins.

There are many ruins and the government has a programme to restore many of them, with over 180 buildings on a preservation list.

The writer reserves his second day for the most famous sight in the city, the Shwedagon Pagoda, eight kilometres north of old Yangon.

When a pleasant middle aged Burmese freelance guide, Lily, offered to take the writer on a one-hour orientation walk of the Shwedagon Pagoda, he leapt at the offer.

There is history everywhere you turn.

On the third day, the writer heads to Bogyoke Aung San Market, a bazar about a 45- minute walk north of downtown.

One British tourist admitted that the Burmese are surprisingly sunny and welcoming.

​

B. Answer the following questions in a word, phrase or sentence each:

i. What, according to the writer, are the characteristics of the land of Buddha?
Ans: According to the writer, the characteristics of the land of Buddha are calmness, tranquility and quietude.

ii. From where did the writer think the best place to start his journey?
Ans: The writer thought the best place to start his journey was Yangon.

iii. From where did the British rule Burma?
Ans: The British ruled Burma from the British Secretariat which was built near the end of the 19th century located at old Yangon.

iv. What distracted the writer as he moved from the centre of the town southward?
Ans: As he moved from the centre of the town southward, the writer was distracted by the alluring aromas of food stalls across the street.

v. What was the only traffic at the Yangon river front?
Ans: The only traffic at the Yangon river front was a small freighter from Singapore and a creaky ferry.

vi. ‘Towering over it is a mammoth stalagmite of……….. ’ How did the stalagmite look like?
Ans: The stalagmite looked like it was glowing in the morning sun.

vii. How is Wednesday different from the other days in Buddhist week?
Ans: In Buddhist week there are eight days, Wednesday is different from the other days as it is the only double day, divided into AM and PM.

viii. At Bagyoke Aung San Market, what was the chief appeal for the writer?
Ans: At Bagyoke Aung San Market, the chief appeal for the writer was people watching and not buying things.

C. Answer the following questions briefly:

i. What was the writer’s impression on landing at Yangon airport?
Ans: On seeing the serenity in the huge customs arrival hall at Yangon airport and how everyone in line was self-possessed and at ease, the writer’s impression was that in the land of Buddha, serenity, calmness and quietude prevailed.

ii. ‘I clear customs and step outside to total pandemonium.’ Why does the writer say so?
Ans: When the writer cleared customs at Yangon airport and stepped outside, it was total pandemonium. The air was thick with the fumes of beat-up old buses, trucks, taxis, scooters and cars all rushing to leave at once. And a lone policeman was frantically blowing his whistle in a futile attempt to control a tsunami of vehicles. Seeing the chaos, the writer made the remark.

iii. How is Thingyan, Myanmar’s New Year festival, observed?
Ans: Thingyan, Myanmar’s New Year Water festival is observed by dousing water over each other in symbolic cleansing of the past year’s sins. There will be rock concerts and the huge stages which rise up on the either side of the roads are outfitted with hoses to spray water at passing cars.

iv. Why did the writer think it best to start his journey from Yangon?
Ans: The writer thought it best to start his journey from Yangon because it was not only Myanmar’s biggest metropolis with four million people, but also the cultural centre and the seat of government until it was shifted to Naypyidaw in 2005.

v. Why did the writer, on his first day, get up shortly after dawn?
Ans: The writer, on his first day, got up shortly after dawn partly because he wanted to do his exploring before the heat built and partly to get some fresh air as the air conditioning in his windowless hotel room had quit at 1:30 in the morning due to daily black-outs.

vi. What does the writer feel about the dress of the Burmese women?
Ans: The Burmese women dress themselves in tunic tops which are buttoned to the chin and ankle-length skirts. The writer feels surprise at how modestly they dress.

vii. Why was the Shwedagon Pagoda built?
Ans: The Shwedagon Pagoda, a solid structure covered in some 60 tonnes of gold leaf and containing holy relics was built to house eight hairs of Buddha which were brought from India by two Burmese merchants.

viii. “There is history everywhere you turn.” Why does the writer say so?
Ans: The Singuttara Hill is not only famous for the Shwedagon Pagoda but it has historic value also. The hill was also the scene of a bloody hand-to-hand fighting during the AngloBurmese Wars in the 1800s. Further, there was a memorial to eleven student protesters who, in 1920, demonstrated against the British. That is why the writer says that there is history everywhere you turn.

ix. What did the writer do when two child Monks approached the writer for donations?
Ans: When two child Monks, carrying a large wooden begging ball, approached the writer for donations, he put in some Burmese money but as the script of the paper money was unreadable to him, he did not know whether it was a small or a big amount.

x. Why did the writer decide to go to the museum?
Ans: The writer decided to go to the museum partly to glimpse the glory days of Burma and partly because it was the first day of the water Festival. Since the holiday was celebrated with the antic carnival fervour, everyone was fair game and he did not want to be soaked.