Emerging from the rusted Yangon International Airport, any first time traveler to Burma will inevitably be struck by some very strange local customs (disclaimer: although it may be politically incorrect, I have decided to employ the country name that I heard most the locals using). In China, it was the continual hacking and spitting; in Vietnam, its conical straw hats; Cambodia, tuk tuk harassement, and in Thailand the kapkuhnka bow. In Burma, you have longyi and thanakha.
 |
| ASEAN meeting with Burmese men in traditional longyi (photocredits to Tumblr) |
A longyi is the male response to a woman's sarong- a large traditional tubular piece of cloth that one wraps around the waist and secures with a tight bow, shirt tucked in, reaching down to the ankles. I cannot describe how odd and disconcerting it was at first to see men pacing about on their daily business with long sheets wrapped around their waists, sliced in half, as half of them were going to a business meeting and the other half was heading back from a hamam session... However, I do have to hand it to the Burmese in devising this practical solution to the sweltering humid heat. On the women's side, I introduce thanakha, a comical pale yellow paste plastered on faces usually in descending stripes down cheeks, or sometimes circular clown blobs instead, with a dot or two swiped on the nose and forehead. Thanakha makeup is seen as an enhancement of beauty, working at once as a mild astringent, a sun cream and a skin cooler, and is made from grinding the extracted bark of the Thanakha tree on a circular round stone with some water. I should perhaps make a quick mention here of the Burmese betel-nut tradition, which consists of said nut mixed with other herbs and tobacco, wrapped in a leaf, placed in the corner of your mouth to be chewed, numbing the inside and producing copious amounts of red goo that needs to be spat out; hence, many street floors in Burma seem to have undergone amateurish Pollockings. However, by the end of our stay in Burma the initial strangeness of longyi skirts and thanakha smears and betel blood splatters became so normal to me that I simply didn't take special notice them anymore. It can be strange how quickly we adapt to our surroundings.
 |
| Yangon city street by night |
Yangon at first impression was much more busy and compact than I had expected. From its maps I had romantically pictured leafy streets and wide avenues (God knows why) but pulling up to our hotel definitely revealed another reality. Odors of Bombay, streets packed and polluted, still devoid of any skyscrapers and filled to the brim with buzzing people, a melting pot cultural amalgam of what appeared to be every country we had visited in Southeast Asia along with many Arabs and Indians from neighboring countries. Because of this, it really seemed to me that there exists no distinct 'Burmese' discerning features; such is their ethnic mix that you could be seated - as we once were- with five friends in tea-shop, each having the physical appearance of a different racial background, yet all calling themselves Burmese.
 |
| Shwedagon Pagoda complex |
The highlight of our short stay in Yangon was a visit to the Shwedagon Pagoda, thought to contain eight hairs of the Buddha (by this time possibly the last pagoda I ever wanted to visit- we must have already toured around 300 others and Bagan was still to come). The nocturnal timing of our visit to the most sacred and revered paya in Burma was deliberately chosen, allowing it to appear in its full splendor -resplendent gold and shimmering mirrors of different colors dazzling the vision once you emerged from the lugubrious climbing stairwell, where inside the huge complex glowed Buddhas with LED aura light shows circling behind them, hundreds of smaller pagodas each ornated in bright gold and gems, crowds of revelers chanting in unison, praying next to the small structure that signified the day of the week on which they were born (in Burma, the first letter of everyone's name thus corresponds to their birthday, which makes for a very fun game of surprising locals by 'magically' guessing they were born on a Tuesday, or a Saturday, and so on). We coincidentally happened to pause right in front of our shared day, Thursday, guided by the lucky planet Venus, symbolized by a small mouse (no tigers or mythical creatures for us...) and is said to denote kind people, devotion to animals and to the home.
 |
| Chanting worship |
It was while we were standing here that we happened to be approached by a burgundy-robed monk. Speaking apparently fluent but intelligible English he explained to us the day and worship system in more detail and then smilingly offered to show us around. His star revelation? By standing on certain nondescript and scattered floor tiles, you could look up to the main golden stupa and observe the large diamond at its peak refracting all its prismatic colors- emerald green, bright pink, blinding yellow, lucid blue, fluorescent red and orange. Barely containing his excitement, he took us around to several different places showing us this literal hidden gem that we would never have discovered alone. One would have thought that the striking beauty of the diamond's refraction would have merited long lines of waiting viewers, yet we were always alone. Combined with a walking tour of each nook and cranny of the grounds, a demonstration on how to properly chime five times a massive iron bell, the story of an ancient Banyan tree and random social observances, we realized how lucky we had been to stumble upon (or rather be stumbled upon) by this enthusiastic young monk keen to enrich our experience and to practice his English.
 |
| Eindaga showing us the diamond refraction |
Afterwards, exhausted, we all sat down and we asked him about his life. His name was Eindaga and his home city is two days travel away from Yangon, up in the Kachin state far up north. Up to the age of twenty, all monks are considered to be 'novices', and afterwards are fully initiated into monk-hood. Eindaga had been a monk for 9 full years now, and preceding that had been a novice for the whole of his life. The modest monastery that he shared with seven other monks was located one hour outside of Yangon but he was in town due to his weekly English classes, telling us with genuine dedication and conviction that in a year he hoped to complete his language training and return home to teach for free. His secret desire? To win a US government lottery system he was entered into that would allow him temporary entry into the States, whereby he would want to go to L.A. ("Los Angelos..?"). I refrained from commenting on how he might find life in that star-straddled, appearance-obsessed city; for him, Los Angelos is just a distant name, a lofty dream, something to wish and hope for. Eindega Nyaba, with flowing robes, wide eyed and incredulous, wandering down Hollywood Boulevard.
No comments:
Post a Comment