Or as Mary calls it ‘Run-down Rangoon.’ And allow me to begin by formally, publicly apologizing to Mary for insisting we come here.
My advice is make your stay here as short as you can. Besides my wanting to see the Shwedagon temple complex, we needed to stop in Rangoon in order to get to Chiang Mai. If you don’t have a compelling reason to stop here, don’t.
The Burma Controversy
From what I’ve pieced together from these days here, ‘Myanmar’ is a name cooked up by the leader who ousted the British. It has no meaning, I’m told. Sort of like the names of pharmaceuticals these days, just a unique jumble of letters. Well, except it’s the name of a beer we like. Burma at least referred to one of the ethnic groups in the region. Same holds pretty much for Rangoon. Recently Aung San Suu Kyi told American journalists we can use either name. So from here on in it’s Burma and Rangoon for me.
And while we’re on the subject. You know that ‘sitting on the right side of the car and driving on the right side of the road’ thing they do here? That’s not actually a stick-it-in-the-eye-of-the-British thing. That guy’s astrologer told him that he needed to switch to the right side! (Nancy Reagan would be so proud!)
NOTE: If you’re riding shotgun in Burma you have a responsibility to look around blind corners and advise the driver when it’s safe to pass.
Chaos Reigns
Passengers from the flight from Heho were bussed to the old domestic terminal. As we entered the doorway we had to fight our way in through baggage handlers, carts, and people trying to get their baggage from a previous flight. This comedy repeated itself as yet another flight’s passengers entered before the baggage handlers had pushed the carts from our plane up to the door. Once I spotted one of our bags I bullied my way to the door and retrieved our luggage. Sometimes it’s handy to be big.
Class
We have been put up in a classic hotel, the Sule Shangri-La. It’s the old-money type, like we saw in Kunming and Mandalay. They’ve put up Christmas decorations: an imitation gingerbread arch at the entrance of the lobby’s dining area, garlands here and there, and a decorated tree in the middle!
In the afternoon, our guide walked us through the Indian district — think the old iron-bound area of NYC, especially around Chambers Street in days gone by, or Canal Street, West of Broadway, ‘way West. Only grittier.
Here’s the scam, and The Donald would be so jealous. It relates to the ‘Generals’ that everyone here talks about, and their ‘cronies.’ When they kicked the British out, the leaders set up a ‘Socialist’ economy. Therefore all the old British-owned buildings were claimed by the government. Anyone could inhabit them, but they were left unmaintained, basically to rot (Sound familiar, my Czech friends?). Once the pooh bah in charge decides it’s time to declare the building uninhabitable (i.e., when he got an offer for the land), he condemned it, sold it, and walked away with a tidy profit for himself.
Sometimes this meant a nice three- or four-story building was replaced with a nine-floor walkup, which is moldering . . .
Change of Venue
We also walked down to the new Chinese Market, along the highway, not too far from a pier where we saw commuter boats — bigger versions of the long-tail boats we’ve become used to — waiting for the evening rush to begin. This was a bustling place with some fish mongers and green grocers, but mostly stands selling food: meat-on-a-stick, noodle dishes, etc. Sound familiar?
Normally the afternoon tour would also include a visit to the Shwedagon Pagoda complex, but our guide felt this is not the best time to go. All the tourists congregate there at that time, so it’s crowded and you can’t see the sunset anyway. So we went the next morning. A good move.
What we did that night was to visit the famous 19th Street for some street food. Problem is, all the action has now moved to the Chinese Market, across town! I did a sketch there of a lonely-looking vendor, from where we sat, across the street.
Even his sign looked down in the dumps.
Shwedagon Dazzles
We went to the Shwedagon pagoda the next morning. It’s overwhelming.
Photos here are just a jumble of gold, so I sat down to try to capture it in a drawing. This garnered some attention.
Pulling it all apart to make a sensible picture was a challenge.
We also drove to see Rangoon’s Reclining Buddha, much larger than Bangkok’s. I didn’t try to draw that.
The guide knew the best places to stand to take pictures of the most famous sites, and also where to have a great lunch.
Otherwise the tours were not that exciting. I thought the huge barge that one royal or other (Sorry, I lose track) built on Victoria Lake, but was never designed to float was not actually that special. Gaudy, yes, but not even unusual. Go to a boat show some time. You’ll see multi-million yachts that have beautiful ship’s wheels but no place for nav equipment. That’s because they’re not meant to be moved either.
In the afternoon we took the obligatory walk through old English colonial buildings and the park. To relieve the boredom the French showed up with various shows to entertain the crowd. A real treat! Here’s a mime (what else?) dancing with a Cat backhoe.
To see this on You Tube, go to https://youtu.be/a1xfdHY69mI
After that performance, they started to play Maria Callas, and I drew the line. We moved on.
The next morning, December 4, we went to the airport to board a plane for Chiang Mai. It was delayed. Then cancelled. We were put on a different plane for Bangkok, for a connecting flight. That was delayed. We rushed to catch the connecting flight. That was more than a half hour late.
Next: I’ll let you know when we finally get to Chiang Mai