A Day on Inle Lake...

I have completely skipped over writing about some crazy, funny, extraordinary Southeast Asian experiences I've had in the past few weeks (to name a few: playing with 250 pound, full-grown tigers, attending a silent meditation retreat, going to a Thai cooking school, falling off a motorbike several times in the hills of Chiang Mai, etc) and I will definitely get to them, but my day yesterday inspired me so much that the words just started flowing and I've already managed to squeeze out a post on it, so here it goes...

Day 6 in Myanmar was happily spent on and around Inle Lake, a freshwater lake in the heart of the Shan region. Now this is usually a "busy" tourist attraction for Myanmar, yet it felt practically deserted when I was there -maybe given it's the rainy season. Moing, a dark-skinned, barefoot, muscular, wild looking Shan guy whose constant wide grin showed off his half toothless, dark red-stained mouth, took me and two random Norwegian guys who made it to the dock before 8am for a day-long trip across the Lake. The traditional wooden tail boat was very long and very narrow, just like the rest of them out on the water. 

Moing swiftly navigated the boat through quite narrow canals, flowing with opaque brown water that reminded me of the chocolate river Willy Wonka took Charlie on in his Factory. We passed grass hut after hut, watching little boys bathing, women washing dishes, and dogs cooling off in the murky, mysterious water that was set against the bright green meadows on shore. After a half hour we emerged from the canals and it was smooth sailing across glass-like, unusually calm water from there. I contently sat back and soaked up the picturesque, happy scene: the majestic Shan Hills surrounding us as if giving us a giant bear hug, the scattered dark green patches of floating Lotus patches, the silhouettes of Intha fisherman leisurely leg-rowing across. I then fixated on a stunningly white bird racing through the air who seemed to be doing a well-choreographed dance with it's own reflection in the mirror-like water - twirling, rising, falling, skimming the still water beneath. Unfortunately, the bird was too fast for me to snap a few shots. But it was a very beautiful, very zen thing to watch with the naked eye. 

Our first stop was the Nam Pan Market...a truly hectic, steamy and chaotic scene amidst the cool, tranquil surrounding Lake. We got out and explored the rows upon rows of chopped bloody fish, roasted corn, smoked mango, engraved wood, seashell jewelry, and much much more. After failing to say no to a rather persistent souvenir vendor, I ended up with a beautiful bamboo engraved symbolic "calendar" that showed the story of Buddha throughout time. The man then had me sit down on a teeny tiny foot stool for some water (which was warm & gross - tried to hide my automatic gag after the first sip), introduced me to his wife, and helped me write out the pronunciation of some Burmese words I've been trying to learn. Very sweet. 

The Norwegian guys, handsome, tall, blonde, jacked university students (like Norwegian Ken dolls, really) somehow designated me as the "translator" with Moing... mind you, Moing spoke NO English what-so-ever, but after hearing the polite conversation I had with him in my limited Burmese that morning: hello, good morning, what's your name, how much will it cost - the guys were impressed and decided they'd go through me if they had a question for him. Not very efficient but highly entertaining. Between pointing at my Burmese dictionary and making what probably looked like overly-elaborate and potentially offensive hand gestures, I think I got it through to him that we did not want to go to places like the market where "people want money. no tourist places. want to see YOUR country. how you live. you show us!" [just imagine the hand gestures I used to convey that].  When I told him "we do not want to see the Long NeckTribe" (aka the Padaung Tribe, who by the way, are basically fakes at this point...Sad that what once was a true, rich cultural tribe is now solely a tourist/zoo attraction. The "Long Neck" girls here are bussed in from their apartments and wear what resemble the stacked silver rings around their necks all day for the money, yet do not practice any traditional customs or anything like that. I just couldn't support that...)  I put my hands around my neck and lifted my head. He grabbed my hands away from my throat - did he think I was trying to choke myself?! Anyway, the whole day was like that. Quite funny and drawn out but we somehow managed to get along quite well. After plenty of bonding laughs, he rolled some betel nuts for us. I luckily knew what it was so declined - basically a mild stimulant that many people of Myanmar chew on and spit out, similar to tobacco. And that's the nasty stuff that turns their mouths red so they look like freshly fed vampires. I did, however, take the offer as a positive one, in that I interpreted he was trying to show us a very custom part of Burmese life. 

When he took us through a maze of far out canals (to where exactly, I still do not know...) we finally arrived on a bank where you could easily see some old Stuppas poking out in the bright greenery. Moing got caught up in the back on the boat (I think his paddle go caught in something?) and we just kind of floated for a while while he was babbling in Burmese, so I jumped out into the knee high chocolate milk water and pulled the boat ashore. He stood there staring at me for a while and a group of local village boys on the shore laughed hysterically. I still don't know why - maybe that's not what women are supposed to do. I was just anxious to get on shore and see the little remote village he took us to, which is exactly what I wanted. Some Intha women with surprised looks on their Thanaka-covered faces came over with colorful cloths to dry my legs, again speaking very fast and I  have no clue what they said. At that point, I didn't even try to look it up because I wouldn't even know where to begin. I just thanked them very much and smiled away. 

Moing gestured to a path through the woods which I could tell lead to a Pagoda; but when I heard the sweet angelic singing in the heavy air of what had to be school children, I simply couldn't resist checking that out. "OK, Moing, Chez-uh-beh (thanks)...I see you soon. Chez-uh-beh." And I walked to the school as the boys had more betel nut and popped open some Myanmar lager. 

Ah!!! My heart smiled. Dark-skinned kids of all ages - from maybe 4 to 9 years old in bright Christmas-green pants (long skirts for the girls) and crisp white shirts, singing in whatever language, smiling and giggling with innocent pleasure. Now, all these kids share ONE big room and are "separated" into classrooms within that room into the various grades. There were a good amount of them, and there was no electricity from what I could see, so you can imagine how hot and crowded it must have felt in there. The teacher, a girl who looked younger than me, motioned me to come in, but given I had no treats or pencils to give them and could tell they were in the middle of a lesson (yes, a singing lesson), I declined but still managed to take some cute pictures. When the kids caught a glimpse of me through the door - a white woman with big sunglasses and a hefty camera - they all stared and pointed and giggled, as if they had never seen anything like it in their lives. It felt surreal. The sweet singing turned into loud and enthusiastic "hellooooo's!" from all sides. After returning as many greetings as I could, I snuck out for some serenity at the nearby Pagoda and chatted with a young novice monk who lived in a nearby monastery. 

The next stop was back out on the Lake at a little bamboo hut on stilts where a nice woman made us some lunch (believe she was a friend of Moing's or something). I don't know what it was, but like practically everything I've  had here, contained plenty of oil, warm tomatoes, sautéed onions, and white rice.  One of the Norwegians unfortunately couldn't stomach the Burmese food so he was running back and forth to the toilet the whole time. Poor guy. I know what that's like unfortunately...I'm better but still not 100%. 

On our way back, a sign on a monastery we passed caught my eye, "Jumping Cats! ".  Hm, OK let's give that a shot. We went in and then I vaguely remembered that I had read about some place like this in the Lonely Planet travel guide where the cats were trained by monks and jumped through hoops or something. Fail. The cats were quite skinny, grouchy, nasty little critters that were afraid of people. I watched as a newborn tried to get some milk from his mother who was simply not interested. Sad. So that was underwhelming. When we came out after 5 minutes or so, Moing laughed and said something in Burmese. I'm pretty sure he knew we wouldn't like it but was having fun with us. 

When we got back to Nuang Shwe (the town I was staying in a bit Northeast of the Lake)  it began to rain. Really rain. I made a run for it back to my hostel and passed out on my bed immediately as the falling raindrops provided the perfect lullaby to put me to sleep after a perfect day. 

This is Myanmar - Part 1.

Hello. My name is Katy, and I am a recovering Spoiled, American Brat. 

It's been 2 days since I've eaten a meal my stomach could keep down.  It's been 8 days since I've taken a hot shower. It's been 13 days since I've had clean clothes. It's been countless days since I've had a crisp lettuce salad with fresh vegetables, un-fried, without oil or white rice. It's been 5 days since I've worn my Bobbi Brown make up. It's been 8 days since I felt the refreshing waves of A/C. It's been however many days ago I was in Paris that I've had a good glass of wine. It's been 8 days since my legs have been free of black and blue marks and scabs from a "little" accident on a motorbike and rows of mosquito bites. And before writing this, it had been about 5 days since I had a solid wifi connection. 

Sigh, First World Problems. 

But you know what,  despite everything I listed above, which typical Americans would likely consider "tough challenges", I can honestly say I'm not sure I've been this appreciative, content and mentally present for as long as I can remember. Maybe ever. I'm pretty damn happy. And pretty damn lucky. And yes I'm hot, probably don't smell too great, my tummy is not so strong, etc., but I'm surrounded by honest, hard-working people, gorgeous, natural surroundings, and all things new and exciting - day in and day out. And to think I would go back to the States after only 2 months - ha! Being stripped of all things familiar, comfortable and modern (everything from air-conditioning to democracy) has really jolted my perspective when it comes to materialism and especially, the human spirit. 

Although I desperately want to write about certain things I've become pretty passionate about in recent weeks  despite my limited yet growing knowledge (political and human rights situations here), I've been strongly advised not to publish things of that nature until I am out of Myanmar (off their network) for reasons I shall explain in a future post.  Until then, I just want to give you all a taste of this country as I have experienced it so far. As Rudyard Kipling appropriately put it, "This is Burma and it will be quite unlike any land you know." Boy, was he right. 

First and foremost, the people...I know I said this about the Greeks and the Thai's, but the people of Myanmar truly are a distinct kind. Their kindness and hospitality goes beyond just over-feeding you like the Greek's or serving and bowing to you like the Thai's (forgive my gross over-generalization/stereotyping here...hope you understand the gist of what I am trying to convey!), the people of Myanmar I have met so far, mostly devout Buddhists,  live in accordance with the concept of "ana-deh." Unfortunately, the term cannot be directly translated into English and google searches don't really match how it is described by some of the locals I have met. My trekking guide in the village of Kalaw, a young Shan guy, explained in broken English (or at least this is how I interpreted it) that it was an innate feeling of mutual respect for those around you, that causes each person to care and ensure the other is comfortable. I know that seems kind of vague, but the way I have experienced it thus far (and what other travelers have confirmed) has been that basically these people don't know how to speak anything other than Burmese (and whatever language their ethnic group speaks) and have for the majority of their history, been isolated from the rest of the world; yet, regardless of what you look like and where you are from, they will embrace you without hesitation and go out of their way to make you feel comfortable.  It's just natural to them. 

For instance, I took the overnight bus from Yangon about 9 hours north to a town called Kalaw on Saturday night. The bus dropped me off at 3am in this foggy mountain town and I pretty much just stood there for a few minutes trying to get the map out of my bag to find a hostel with my sleepy eyes and not too sparkly of a mood. A Burmese guy from out of nowhere came over immediately and although he did not speak a word of English, did that "go to sleep" gesture with his hands and I nodded anxiously. He showed me a business card that read "Lily's Guesthouse" and I awkwardly just gave him a thumbs up. He carried my luggage about 2 kilometers down the road, where we finally arrived at the Guesthouse and I was ushered in and practically put to bed immediately. They wouldn't take money at that point, they didn't need ID or anything like that. Although I was to share a room with another guest (as one does in these types of guesthouses/hostels) the only living thing in there was a small yet plump lizard on the wall and a good amount of mosquitoes. 

After a day or two of exploring the small town, I found a local guide to take me up trekking in the hills for a couple days. Of course, I got a terrible stomach bug the night before we were to leave (I've been a bit overconfident in what my stomach can handle in terms of Burmese street food), but when I awoke to the the blinding sun cascading over the vibrant green hills and the beautiful sound of chanting monks preparing for alms offerings outside the hostel, I was inspired and refused to stay in bed. So, I went trekking. Up-hill, down-hill, through some farms, over the river and through the woods, etc...The poor guide turned into a nurse the whole day as I could only go a couple kilometers before unfortunately getting sick. Without hesitation, he splashed water on my face, rubbed my back, made little places for me to sit in the shade to rest,  etc....and did this for about 8 hours straight! Meanwhile, throughout the remote villages, a couple of families invited us in their huts for homegrown green tea (without knowing I was sick - they just waved us in;  I just put on my monster sunglasses and tried to toughen up...) and despite the language barrier, felt very welcome and almost at home as they smiled and poured more tea. I of course had to cancel the overnight stay in the monastery that night and luckily made it back to the hostel just before sundown. 

Now, I've only been here a few days but I already have plenty more stories I could tell regarding the warmth of the folk here. Why is this so intriguing to me? Try to keep  in mind this pervasive, authentic kindness and spirit of "ana-deh" that exists amongst the people of Myanmar as I write more about the difficult and often terrible situations (understatement..) that many of them have had to endure in recent history. Truly an amazing, heart-wrenching story that is still unravelling today as the country comes to a crucial crossroads.

Screw my First World Problems. 

Behind a Bangkok Smile...

Can't believe I've spent over a week already here in Chiang Mai...it's a lush, green, tranquil haven compared to the chaotic hustle and bustle Bangkok, and actually as I'm writing this, I'm realizing I may have fallen for this place! 

Before getting into what I've been up to here that has lead to my  love affair with the city, I must entertain you with my adventure getting here along with some less light-hearted realities I've discovered while in Bangkok. 

So, considering I don't have much of a time constraint in my life right now and despite having travelled for nearly 6 weeks, I still have the same healthy appetite for all things new and different as I did on day one, so, I opted to take the 12-hour (which turned out to be 14 hours, by the way) overnight old train from Bangkok to the North instead of the convenient, efficient 2 hour flight. New and different is exactly what I got...

Imagine struggling to carry three heavy bags (purse, suitcase, "carry-on") through the Bangkok Central station at peak hour in a sauna-like atmosphere, desparately trying to find an English speaking person to no avail, strategically dodging groups of Muslim women dressed in black from head to toe with only their subdued mysterious eyes peering out, bright orange clad, bald Monks scurrying around who I dared not accidentally disrespect by brushing up against given I am a woman, and little groups of random scruffy backpackers, who, like me, were staring helplessly at the schedule written in Thai while playing Dodge the Monks and Muslims. 

As I said before, knowing just a few words of the native language goes a long way. I picked up my Thai phrase book, timidly asked for help from the first Thai I saw in a uniform and somehow managed to communicate in a way he understood. He escorted me to my train car, thank goodness, and as I stepped aboard,  blurted out , "Really?!?" under my breath as I looked around for the hidden camera and behind-the-scenes prankers who had to have set me up. It was just a really dungy, dark car reminiscent of the NYC metro with series of white bunk beds, maybe 5 feet long and 2 or 3 feet wide with ragged bright orange curtains hanging around as an option for "privacy".  I was in a moving jail, sans bars. I sat on my bed still sweating, with my bags still hanging around me, and  just stared and took it all in. I braced myself for the cockroaches and spiders that'd likely join me in bed any second. My roomies, luckilly, turned out to be quite a nice, quiet Chinese family. The son, likely around my age, spoke broken English - enough to confirm my concerns that the outlets in the walls did not work and that no they don't serve food. Or wine. 

The family closed their curtains by 8:30pm, so there I was....sitting in my moving jail across the darkening Thai countryside, trying to focus on anything other than my bladder, which was getting a bit full, since I had just glimpsed at the "bathroom" walking in: a hole in the floor of the train. Literally! You could see the tracks race by through the wide opening. Quite a challenge for a woman. Now would have been a perfect time for soothing meditation, but I couldn't get my mind to stand still, and my meditation retreat was not for another week. OK, well, fair enough...I wanted new and different!

I tried to sleep and zippered myself in, but tossed and turned for what felt like hours. Partly because I was sharing all 5 feet of my thin mattress with all my luggage (which I insisted to keep near me after someone ripped open my first bag on the overnight ferry to Athens which pissed me right off and caused me to by a new hard case one), but my mind was the thing keeping me up. I felt unsettled for some reason, and not because I was on a rickety, germophobe's and claustrophobic's hell ride (good thing I am neither of those) but rather my mind was wandering back to a recent conversation I'd had that got me thinking some of those seemingly genuine Thai smiles were maybe not so genuine...

My hotel in Bangkok was next to one of hundreds and hundreds of Thai massage places, and of course I indulged a couple of times given 1 hour costs less than $10 USD. As an aside, the Thai massage is so different than the kind you get in the States. They literally use their whole body to get you in different stretching positions and I'll tell ya, these petite seemingly gentle Thai women certainly have strength. Anywho, I ended up making "friends"with one of the Thai girls who worked there (who spoke excellent English) since I passed it multiple times a day and visited more than once. She gave me a lot of great sightseeing tips, taught me about Thai massages and food, gave me tips on stretching, etc. She was a petite woman with jet black hair with funky  bright pink highlights  interspersed throughout, and had a gorgeous, ridiculously symmetrical face that seemed to always be smiling. Kapui (I do not know how to spell her name to be honest, but it sounded like Kah-poo) was her name and when I told her I would be leaving the next day after a week of being in Bangkok,  she invited me for some tea. Thais love their tea. 

I asked her the basic get-to-know you questions that we hadn't yet covered: how old are you, how long have you lived and worked here, where is your family,  etc. I also asked her how on earth she works so late at night, for I noticed the massage place was open from 10:00am to 3:00am, 7 days a week! 

Nineteen years old. Has worked there since she was 16. Family lives outside of Bangkok to the North.  She hardly sees them but sends them money once a month. And then she just giggled at the last question, as if I was naive for asking. 

I learned that the place, appropriately called "Happy Massage", offers "additional"services after 10pm primarily for horny Farangs, just like many of the others around the city. She has been offering her body for money for over 3 years now, almost every night until the break of dawn, along with most of her friends and other Thai women she knew. She made it sound like it was totally normal and just "what they do there", like how a Weston High graduate goes to Dartmouth and then ends up in Finance in the City or something. 

Although she talked about it in a very non-chalant way, I could tell there was something underneath what seemed like blind acceptance of her situation. Some disappointment or maybe some sad helplessness...Or maybe I was imagining it. Was this for real? Was she really that brain washed? Did she really think she had no choice but to sell her body for financial security? Was education really not an option? My dumbfounded brain was full of all of those standard very Westernized, First World questions. In the end, to her, the money she was able to get for what she does was simply a no brainer. And this mentality is apparently prevalent in many areas here for many women. 

Of course I have read about it and seen plenty of documentaries and movies about the Southeast Asian sex industry (a booming one, for your information) but never would I thought I'd hear a first hand account of it from someone who I had befriended. I will not share the intimate details she told me, but all I want you to know is that this is real stuff. And that some, like Kapui, thinks it's "normal" and as a result don't even see demanding women's rights or self-respect as a potential option. You can read the newspaper headlines, hear about characters in movies, see occasional Non-Profit agencies reaching out for awareness, etc, but at least for me it's really a disturbing and startling wake up call to have someone you know, someone so sweet and seeming intelligent, living this type of life.  I felt so guilty, angry, surprised, and pretty much speechless. So much so that I was quite light on my questioning and sat their with open ears, something that I am regretting a bit now because I still have so many unanswered (I guess my journalistic,  nosy side didn't come out as I thought it would..). As we said goodbye, I gave her some extra money in the hopes that she'd take a few nights off for herself, but who knows if she actually did. 

As the train jerked and fumbled along the tracks away from Bangkok that night, I then rolled over and thought about her with her pink streaked hair and beautiful smile, hoping she was safe and that she could somehow release herself from the life she thinks she is stuck in. And that I wish there was something I could do. Suddenly, being on the a rickety  old train for 14 hours didn't seem so bad.