Kyaikthanlan ... lookin' lazy at the sea ...

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  Moulmein, Myanmar
Monday, May 28, 2007

After settling in at the Breeze, went for the usual walk - along the river, cutting through a market area, up lanes and down. I bought 4 mangos for 200 ks (~20 cents) and headed back to the GH. Along the way I found a vegetarian restaurant on the river. We ate there tonight - fried noodles with vegetables and egg - pretty greasy, but okay - and okay is what food is all about here.

Strange to say in a travelogue, and nobody, not even Leslie, has ever heard me say this or anything like it ... but to me, I look better than I have in years. I do have bags under my eyes, but still ... Leslie looking good too (but that's standard). No explanation for me. 

We've seen one westerner here and in Bago (the same one, both times). This far off the beaten path it seems there are many more people chewing betel nut. The pavement and sidewalks (both crazy cracked and jumbled splattered everywhere with red (have to spit that juice).

Samnang is the dignified patriarch of the family that has taken David in in Cambodia. And Burma is a country full of Samnangs (and as far as that goes, it's a country full of Davids) - people with gravitas, direct, strong. We've seen almost none of the bully-boy truculence that seems to permeate Cambodia - nor the phony hustle of Thailand.

One thing about Leslie is that she seldom complains. That's a very good thing in Burma because if you were looking for things to complain about here, you would find something every minute. No complaints? Hey look, something to marvel at every minute.

Friday, 25 May: Great night's sleep with fan and aircon. I told Leslie that all my money was on mohinga for the breakfast included with our room. But I was wrong - it was a continental breakfast - tea, coffee ("3 in 1" style), banana, boiled egg, toast, butter (is there any question but that the butter is recycled), and marmalad. We ate on a terrace overlooking the river and were joined by a Danish man (that other western traveler we saw). He has been here for 7 months on a meditation visa - the only long-term visa available for Burma. As it turns out, we have several aquaintances in common! Small world. 

After breakfast we caught a taxi to the train station and bought tickets for the express train for tomorrow morning. Then on to Kyaikthanlan Paya (Pagoda) - the one Kipling wrote about in Mandalay. So, of course, I sat right where the "Burma girl" sat, "lookin' lazy at the sea" and I looked lazy at the sea and was happy. Beautiful, beautiful Burma. Gongs ringing from time to time. Cool breeze sometimes, still and hot other times. Talked with someone who had been in prison 3 times for involvement in the Democracy Movement. Intense. 

In another post earlier I mentioned Ken, a man I met on the internet. No doubt I'm wrong in some details here - sorry about that ... Ken is an Austalian who fought in the British Navy on the rivers of Burma in WWII. While he was in-country, he met a young British colonial girl named Heather. After the war, when she was older, they connected back in England and were married. They ended up in Australia and have been back to Burma together twice (I think). These days Heather is unable to make the trip, but Ken came back alone again last year and sent me a copy of his travelogue. He traveled some with several "old boys" - men who had been educated at the St. Paul schools in Burma, taught by priests and lay brothers at those schools. When I read Ken's travelogue, I looked up the old boys on the internet (google <old boys Burma.) Like my son's school (St. Marks), there is a strong connection among the old boys - strong and now poignant because the schools were shut down by the government.

I was talking with a man in a restaurant, conversation turning to religion and it turns out he is Catholic. I asked him if he is an old boy and he says yes! I'm staggered. He is quite calm and collected by this, so I pretend the same, but I'm not.

Burma is like a series of tragic stories in beauty - in my life I never saw so much beauty as here - the sadness and hurt is as palpable as in Hue. But no complaining. Smiling in the face of pain and don't tell me, that's the Asian way. I know more about that than most any other westerner. This is deep. Deep beauty, deep pain, deep strength.

Hey Ken, remember what you said about your heart? I did find your heart here - sparkling like the jewel in the lotus - but I didn't even try to pick it up - it was in just the right place.

In Moulmein the buildings are mostly colonial, decaying in the tropical heat. Yesterday was the first day without rain. It rained, hard, last night.   

I'm walking along a street - oh man, is it hot! Glad Leslie insisted I take some water. Some people invite me into their place (open on the street) to sit and cool down in the dark of the room like almost every other place here - no fan, no aircon. Shoes off at the step up into the room, so I'm sitting there in my socks and no doubt they're completely mystified re why anyone would encase their feet in those odd looking things. I'm digging being there with these people and they're digging me likewise. Whew, I wipe my old bald head still popping sweat out even with the rest and saddle up and keep on, up the road, cutting into tiny lanes with people looking as amazed to see me as I am to see them.  

Back in the room, I'm dripping and Leslie saying, rest awhile and I'm saying, no, then I'll just have wet clothes and so we catch a trishaw up the road to an aircon restaurant in a hotel I saw earlier. Clean, aircon - ahhh. We split chicken and dry chilis. I tipped the waiter 1000 kyat (<$1) - yeah, I know, tipping not expected. Then later, when we were out front negotiating the price of a trishaw back to our place, the waiter comes out and pays our fare! Kipling was in India, Pakistan, Afghanistan, Burma, and elsewhere - long, long ago, he said (I may have this exactly right), "You'll find that Burma is a place like no other place."

You'll find that Burma is a place like no other place.

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