Sunni Dawson

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Wild Yangon

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Wild lunch views


I remember the exact moment. I was sitting on a tiny pink plastic stool under some make shift umbrella plastic. It was 11.45am. I felt my legs dribbling, matching the matted hair stench from my scalp. I didn’t want to touch my bloated face with my hands, lest the dirt get smeared more fully across my body. I couldn’t resist.

Heaven.

I picked up my metal spoon and took in a little of the balmy coloured liquid. My eyes flicked open. 

I quickly tried some of the green, then the chickpeas, and finally the crusty chopped remnants of a samosa.
I felt water coming from behind my eyes. Water joy as I call it. Water joy.
Ingredients for the ‘salad’.

This is called a ‘samosa salad’. It was more of a soup than a salad, but the combinations of salty, crunchy, sour and heat were truly remarkable.

 
Sugar cane machines & tobacco

More than remarkable. Bliss. Bliss on a plastic toy chair surrounded by sugar cane juice motors, loud conversations, wide eyed locals staring at the crazy haired white girl, wafts of road water odour and red splashed dirt.

I avoided at all costs looking behind me. I didn’t want the hanging carcass of another animal to disrupt this moment. Because it was this moment, this moment, I fell in love in Yangon.

A street for everyone and everything!
Yangon kinda hits you. Like a wet fish slap across your back. The chaotic roads barely have any sense of order. This is not helped by the fact that the cars (unlike neighbouring countries of Thailand and India) drive on the right side of the road. Now this in itself is not a problem. The problem is that the driving wheels are situated on the right side of the vehicle. 

This means that until a car pulls out into traffic, they cannot see what is coming up behind them. Safe much? Myanmar traffic direction changed overnight in about 1970 by General Ne Win, which most say was to establish distance from the former British rule. People use honking as a means to let people know they are there.
 
A garbage truck

The primary manufacturer of cars in Asia is Japan and the majority of these cars are RHD vehicles. There have been discussions of only allowing LHD vehicles to be imported, but a high ranking police officer says that it is the skill and safe practises of the motorist, rather than the driving side the wheel is on that is the problem of accidents. 

This food stall is coming fully onto the road.

Add to this pedestrians coming out into roads (the pavements are either non-existent, or broken messes of drains and precarious slabs of concrete), bikes and other wheeled contraptions, random stray dogs, and food stalls. Accidents happen all the time, and I saw evidence of this the other day when a car pulled out and hit a motorbike directly in front of me. 

 
You have to be on full alert to walk out into the streets of Burma. Cars, bikes, trishaws, trolleys, horse and carts, garbage ‘trucks’ (large open thatched reed things on wheels with smaller baskets inside) and any manner of wheel based operations with super large stuff balancing on top (or not). And people (including their attached contraptions) go wherever and whenever they want. 
Nerves of blue plated titanium. And constant turning of your head from right to left, making your presence is known to as many moving things around you as possible. No shrinking violets allowed here. You face certain death at any and every moment. 


The peace of the Buddha feels much needed here!
This chaotic state is mesmerising. Completely. It is different from other South East Asian countries I have visited. Fuller, smellier, more random. The closest I could come to comparison is India, but India is, and always will be, on a league of its own. India’s sheer numbers of people give it its prize position of pure chaos of bodies, wheeling vehicles, rubbish, dust and stench…. . There is also one tenth of the amount of begging here as in India. And there are no cows in the midst of homes, streets, railway stations. 
 
But the blending of peoples, religions and ethnic groups is noticeable, being more distinct in its meshing than what I’ve observed in neighbouring countries. Myanmar borders with India and China, and the influences of the migrating peoples are clear. Burmese food and drink is a great example. Chinese tea is served everywhere. The food mixes a lot of Chinese food influences: stirfrys, oil, heat and meat with Indian flavours and spices. I got obsessed with the ‘traditional lentil soup’ which strongly reminds me of dahl, but with crispy onions swimming on top of the soup. Delectable! Samosas and dosa on are prevalent on roadside stalls. Did someone mention DOSA???? 
 
More than cute. Everyone uses them.

What I did find both interesting and unique to Yangon is the sheer numbers of food stalls taking up substantial portions of any and all roads. And everyone eating or drinking at these stalls, on children’s plastic chairs with teapots. It couldn’t be more cute. The freshness of the produce, the succulent, ready to eat fruit, and the betel leaf. Almost as common as the motorbike is a betel leaf stall. The fresh green leaves are spread out, white paste smeared on top, tobacco, herbs and I’m unsure what else. They are meticulously rolled up into thumb nail sized squares and popped into mouths quicker that a fly chasing excrement. 





 








His teeth are pretty good in comparison to what else I saw!


Bloodied mouths follow, the betel juice dribbling out of smiles and spat… well everywhere. One really has to be careful walking the streets of Yangon! Really careful. The spray of crimson polished every sidewalk, bus and building. The betel leaf is addictive. The consequences of this over time mean crumbling specks of white and black encased in red stained lips.



In my next post I will discuss some of Yangon’s scintillating sights.

 

Shrine of remembrance for Aung Sun assassinated in 1947

Kathmandu: the next days

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On the second afternoon I met a principal of a school from a small village close to the epicentre of the first quake. The whole village was destroyed. Including the school. He had come to Kathmandu to talk options and seek help for his village.

 
“We are starting from zero. We need all the help we can get.”
 
He explained that he met an Australian man two weeks ago who volunteered to fund and assist building a small temporary school shelter, but it’s just the start. Start of everything. Water pipes have been broken and homes turned to rubble.
 

“If the children can’t get fresh water, they will get sick and we won’t be able to teach them. If the children don’t have homes, they will be too tired to learn. If they children don’t have food, they will be distracted. Everything works together. So I need help to fix everything. We are starting from zero.

“It’s like if a woman is pregnant. If it is a boy or girl, it doesn’t matter, and we are happy we are giving birth to it.”
 
I looked at him quizzically.
 
“The earthquake is the pregnancy. We have to be happy it’s come and work with it.”
 
I asked him what sort of support the government has given for the school.
 
“The government has given 25,000 rupees to each school. But that is nothing.”  (Note 25,000 rupees is the equivalent of $250 USD). In relative terms, this is about the cost of one shelter, which could fit a small family.
 
Thamel, Kathmandu

I asked him what sort of help the village needed or how people could contribute.

“We need people to come with supplies to the village. To meet the people and bring housing supplies. We need civil engineers. We need people to help with the school and homes. The monsoon is coming and that is a very big problem for us.”
Another man I met whose family is in a village 75 kms from Kathmandu says his family is fine, but the village was destroyed. He has moved his family to another location for the monsoon season and then they will look at rebuilding the village and homes after the monsoon. This is a family that is fortunate to be able to move.
 
Another man I met by wandering into a closed restaurant. He invited me to sit and talk. We had tea and he passionately told me about all the things he wants and needs to do for his village and community which were right at the epicentre of the earthquake. I ended up spending hours with him and subsequently helped him draft a funding submission to an NGO. I will be writing more about him and his work in future posts.
 
And this was all in one afternoon.

Hotel in Thamel, Kathmandu
 
And then there was a quake. Yup.
I was in bed at about 10pm at night (ok, ok, I was tired!). I felt the walls move and loud sounds. At first I thought it was my new neighbours in the room next to mine, being very loud, like a kind of slamming doors and such. But then I realised, no neighbours could move the whole building. My room and bed moved completely, taking me with it on this ‘I’m more powerful than you’ swirling motion around my room. Oh, so this is a quake! 

It was an odd feeling having everything move around me and involuntarily moving me with it. And the whole six storeys of the hotel I was in. 
 
I figured it mustn’t be a huge one or that it could have been far away since it seemed to last for only about a minute or so, but certainly impossible to miss! So I stayed in bed. I found out it was a 4.5 the next day and not too far away from Kathmandu.
The following night I woke up at 4am, but I didn’t know why, everything was so silent. Later that day I heard there was another quake around that time. The continuing earthquakes like this, even 4.3 – 4.5 are uncommon for Nepal. Locals say there was a 4.5 quake in 2011, but that seems to be the only in recent memory, which didn’t cause a whole lot of damage. 
 

The wrap

I guess one could describe my first few days in Kathmandu as being very ‘full’. Full of people helping and seeking help. A few quakes.
 
And momos. Don’t forget the momos. I love momos. Always have, always will. And I can eat them to my hearts’ content here. 
Veg momos. Amazing sauce. Heaven.
So please don’t be surprised if I start looking all squidgy, soft and saucy in my coming months’ photos. If I happen to turn into a momo, I am ok with that. It is worth it. Believe me.

Pumpkin momos with a chili chocolate sauce!

Kathmandu: the first 24 hours

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Exiting the plane my whole body smiled. No humidity. No humidity! NO HUMIDITY! Yes, yes, YES!!!!
Sunshine and rubble
A pleasant 30 degrees Celsius and no humidity. I just came from Myanmar, at 8pm at night it was 31 degrees, dark and I had dribbles of sweat emanating from my brow, knee creases and behind my earlobes. The word ‘unbearable’ does little to describe how overwhelming I found the mixture of sun, dust and lets just say at least 152.59% humidity was. Needless to say I could not be found outside between 10am and 5pm. 
 
But here, it was 31 degrees, in the mid afternoon heat and I could actually breathe! You little ripper!  I looked around the airport runway and noted the many massive plastic wrapped packages, supplies yet to be distributed.
 
I walked amongst the throng of 250 Nepali men swarming around me with an ‘all-in’ survival mode determination to the baggage claim. I was one of three white people in the plane and the only white female in amongst a handful of women. I had gotten used to the gapping mouths by everyone in Myanmar, but this plane ride took it to a whole new level. A captive prey, with every tiny move scrutinised with magnetic gazes and not so subtle filming. These cat eyes found a new fascination: the conveyor belt. 
 
The conveyor belt was packed full of packages of all ranges of sizes: TVs, stitch tied boxes, large cheap suitcases. These men were coming back home from working in Malaysia. The air host explained to me, ‘We have a lot of Nepalese workers in Malaysia, normally this plane is sold out, but there are a few empty seats today’ (note: I didn’t see many spares). 
Support perhaps?

 

My taxi driver was a very affable young Nepalese man. Smiling and friendly without the open mouth thing. I asked him about Kathmandu since the quakes.

 
‘Many people are scared. Very scared. A lot of people are homeless.’ He pointed out the vast numbers of tents in the small spaces of land that were not taken up by buildings or rubble.
 
‘Many people’s homes collapsed, but some people, even if their homes are okay, are too scared to stay inside incase another earthquake comes. Many people have left Kathmandu. They are too scared to stay here.’
 
‘Have they gone back to their villages?’
 
‘Yes, to help their families and work for them. Most people come to Kathmandu for work, but they are too afraid to stay here. For example, it normally takes during the day one hour to get from the airport into Thamel. It now only takes 15 minutes. Everyone is gone.’
Life continuing

I look around to see the swarming motorbikes, cars, trucks, people, dogs and (so much inner excitement here) cows! I haven’t seen roaming cows for a few years since my venture to India. I love cows. And free cows especially. I wondered what this unorganised beehive would be like in its ‘normal’ state.

I ask him how his family is. ‘My family is from a small village an hour or so outside of Kathmandu. They are okay, but their home was destroyed.’

‘I am sorry to hear that.’
 
He smiled. ‘No, don’t be sorry, its okay, they are not the only ones. A 1000 homes were destroyed in my village.’
 
Ummm, wow. My mind wandered back to the responses of people in Queensland’s (Australia) worst natural disaster in recent history in 2011. I was apart of the recovery efforts. I remember hearing many people (not everyone, granted) complaining and blaming the government (for a natural disaster mind you) for their homes being damaged or destroyed. Of course this is horrible and devastating, I too was affected, but I reflected on this very different reaction to a natural disaster that killed over 9000, injured thousands more and rendered over 450 000 homeless (in Queenland’s disaster, 38 people were killed and thousands of homes were destroyed) and people with no insurance.
One of the many nice restaurants here.
A stark contrast.


Most foreigners who are in the Thamel area (the tourist area of Kathmandu filled with beautiful restaurants, mountain gear shops, cashmere and trinkets) are here for recovery assistance. This makes Thamel currently an interesting place to be. Most businesses and almost everyone in Kathmandu are helping the recovery efforts in some way. One restaurant I ate at had installed a sample monsoon shelter for the homeless they are raising money for.

On the outskirts of Thamel
There are a lot of local people and groups that have taken initiative in recovery efforts. These groups are facilitating assistance in ways larger organisations are not (for a variety of reasons). I am going to be documenting some of the fantastic work these groups are doing here.
 
One of the initial inspiring things I’ve heard about within my first 24 hours is two guys who have come from the Philippines to teach locals how to make homes, using local materials of mud, bamboo etc, earthquake proof. They are going out into villages to teach locals adjustments to their current building style or completely new techniques.
 
The Eco Brick!

One of these men is also into building ‘Ecobricks’. Plastic bottles filled with plastic bags. This Ecobrick has about 60 plastic bags in this one bottle. Eco bricks are about turning plastic that is not biodegradable into something that is an incredibly useful solution to a huge environmental problem. PET plastics will last 300-500 years if kept away from direct sunlight. And they make incredibly good bricks / building materials that can be used over and over again!

ecobricks.org website has a free kit that anyone can use (including info for teachers and schools) and they are currently getting it translated into Nepali as you can see, this is the first draft.
The Eco Brick guide in english, its first Nepalese translation and a sample brick!
Many more inspiring stories to come!

I miss you already.

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I miss you already.

 





 

 

 

 

 

 

Your red balled sunsets, 

 

orchid filled cocktails,
and lusty fruits.

 











 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


Your shapely beaches,



contented palms,

 














 








and shimmering skies.

 


Your pretty peoples,



 


decadent treats,

 


and stickiness.


Your wild ideas,


opposing contrasts,

 












and teeming coconuts.

 



Your uneventful ease,

 





multicoloured tastes,
 









and deep touches.
 



Your meandering sway,

 



lapping waters,



and dangerous hills.


 
Your allowance of all,

 






random conversations









and profound knowing.
 









Your overt openness,
 










sweet shakes




 

and hazy, devotional reggae.

 

 
 
 
 
 
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Your rejection of the old,

gutsy four legged friends





























and continual sweat.

 






Your piece of peace,










joyful growth











and purest simplicity.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 





Your languishing laziness,




graceful hammocks





  
and sublime vistas.
My bungalow view I am leaving behind after 6 months!










Thank you.

 

    









From everything I have, thank you.

‘My son and daughter are marrying each other’ and other Thai superstitions…

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‘Hey Ernie, what have you been up to?’
 
‘You know life mate, busy with my two 3 year olds. They never stop!’
 
‘You’ve got your hands full for sure!’
 
‘Yes, but having a few days off next week. My son and my daughter are marrying each other.’
 
I looked at him quizzically, trying desperately to make sense of what he was saying.
 
‘Yes, it’s Thai superstition, if you have twins who are born both boy and girl they are thought to have been lovers in a previous life. It is said if they don’t get married in their first years of the current life, that something bad will happen to them and they won’t live past 8 years old.’
 
‘Wow.’
 
‘But my wife said, ‘but no sex, just marriage.’’
 
‘Thank god for that!’
 
‘Yes, can you just imagine what my mother said!’
Offerings to the spirits…

 

His mother, a proper English lady, with white cropped curls, precisely made face and pressed dresses sat at the bar watching Ernie night after night when she visited. She preferred that over spending more time with her daughter in law.
 
Laughing loudly, ‘Yes, I imagine it would have taken her some time to come to terms with that!’
 
‘Indeed. She can’t come out for it, so I said I’d film it for her.’
 
‘Oh great, I’d be really curious to see what happens in the ceremony.’
 
‘Apparently it goes on for a few hours, but I can’t imagine my two standing in the one spot for very long.’
 
‘For sure, two active 3 year olds! So how do you feel about it?’
 
‘Well after my wife emphasised no sex, and I heard about some of the stories my wife told me about when ceremonies have not been done and bad things have happened to kids, I thought well its better to be on the safe side. I want them to grow up safe and happy.’
 
‘Nice.’
 
‘And can they marry whomever they want when they grow up?’
 
Nodding, ‘Yes for sure.’ Smiling, ‘It will be like little muppets together, marrying each other!’
 
About a week later I saw him again. He showed me the footage of his two children in the ceremony. The boy and girl  wore the same sparkling sapphire tops, the cutest little Thai pants and proud red lipstick. The only real difference between them was that his girl wore just slightly longer hair and a tiny red clip to the side of her head.
 
The video showed the two children go up to the line of Buddhist monks. Each child had a small string tied around their wrist by the monk who said some words and smiled at their overt vibrancy. The 3 year olds ran back and forth from the monks into their mother’s arms, smiling and giggling.
 
And that was it. 
 
No other fan fare ensued. Except for the child sized drum kits they were given by some relatives. They children hugged each other with glee. The next photos were drum kits and concentrated but delighted faces.
Spirit houses
As one of my Thai friends told me: ‘Being Thai is complicated. Not like farang. My daughter she sick when she born, we go to temple and monk said when she 15 she must shave her hair and come and stay at the temple for one week.’
 
I did a little research on some other Thai superstitions, and there are plenty of interesting ones:
 
1. Do not cut your hair on Wednesdays (or give birth on Wednesday), it is very bad luck.
 
One of the oldest & cutest spirit houses I’ve seen!

2. Make sure you leave food and water in your spirit houses for the spirits. Spirits live in their own little houses outside. That stops them from bothering you inside your home.

3. If you hear a Tokay Gecko (‘Tuk-kae’ which has such adistinctive loud call, like the inbreath of a plastic toy frog in a bath, too cute to be frightening) as you are leaving your house, DON’T go out! Something bad will happen to you, so stay home! 🙂
Tokay Gecko




4. If you dream of a snake, you will soon meet your soulmate! 
 
 
And for my Aussie friends: if a toad enters your home it will bring good luck! So welcome those toads guys! 🙂

Thai women collecting cockle to eat

 

The Queen of the Thai forest

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My head jolted back against the glass as the motor cracked into motion. The change of gears made me wince as Tom got used to bashed up, sandy floored jeep.
 
The process of hiring was simple. Hand over your passport and you get the keys. No mileage check, pay per kilometre or fuel discussions. Here’s the key, and if you’re lucky there might just be enough fuel to last until the next village so you can fill her up. Maybe.
 
‘Oh my god, I just felt water on my feet!’
 
Laughing, ‘How?’
 
‘I dunno, but I think there’s a hole in the floor of the passenger seat.’

 

I looked around my cramped up knees in the back. My butt cheeks barely found a resting place. The ‘seat’ was at best a pineapple length wide (without the head). And it would be a wild wild fantasy to suggest that seatbelts existed back here. So I clutched the seat in front and smiled. So glad Tom is driving this thing!
 

We headed to some of the postcard pretty northern beaches before deciding to find ‘the biggest tree on the island’. 

‘I didn’t bring a map, but I think it’s off this road from what I can remember.’
 
We drove through a sun sprinkled, palm tingling lusciousness to a peak of ragged rolling green.
 
‘Ok, so I saw a sign for the tree pointing this way.’
 
‘Great, it’s got to be along this path. I’ll keep looking at the signs facing the opposite direction, just incase.’
 
We commenced our decent and I spotted another sign pointing in our direction.
 
‘Ok, it’s got to be down here.’
 
We arrived at a T intersection. No sign of a sign. We drove right.
 
Michelle spots some locals chopping coconuts, and call out, ‘Do you know where the biggest tree is?’

 

The wrinkled man and woman look at each other, momentarily stopping from their bent over positions, grasping rusty blades to stare at the farangs in the jeep. Eventually the man points his hand down the road. 
 
‘Kop Kune Ka’ we yell as Tom inches forward.
 
We pass several off shoots of roads. ‘I’m sure it’s off one of these little roads – that’s what it looked like on the map to me.’
 
‘But there’s no sign. There should be a sign.’
 
‘We are in Thailand guys.’
 
‘Lets try that road’ Michelle points to the street we just passed.
 
‘Thanks for letting me know.’ Tom’s sinewy arms pull the wheel around in a wide circle. 
 
We follow a few more streets with small houses of bamboo and recycled wood, naked children laughing in big black tubs of water and a tattooed Thai guy.
 
‘Excuse me, do you know where the big tree is?’
 
Nodding and smiling, ‘Wait, wait.’
 
He disappears and brings back a warm eyed woman. ‘You need to go to main road and straight, straight down.’ Meanwhile he scribbles a few lines, without street names.
 
‘Kop kun mar mar Kaaaaaaaaa’ I yell as we drive off waving. ‘They just described the directions to the Big C Supermarket! Big tree, Big C… Same same!’

‘Gotta love cross cultural communication.’

‘Oh look – lets try that road’, Michelle pointed to one opposite, ‘that looks vaguely like what they described.’ Tom turned the jeep around for the fourth time.
 
It was a bumpy dirt track. Locals stared at us from their tiny dusty abodes.
 
‘Look at those crazy farang, what are they doing here? This is not the way, but hang on, there are some tourist  buses. It must be it!’
 
‘Yes, and there seems to be a big tree over there!’
 
Hobbling along a bit further, there didn’t seem to be an obvious path to a larger looking tree behind some shacks.
 
‘Excuse me, big tree?’

 
Confused expressions ensued.
 
‘Look, I reckon it must be the big tree. Ok, we’ve seen the big tree, lets go to this wave beach you were telling us about.’
 
‘Lets just try this one more street.’
 
‘Ok.’
 
We were led to a main road. ‘Ok, obviously that wasn’t it.’
 
We traverse the tall windy hills to the ‘full moon’ beach. Aka Haad Rin. I hadn’t been to this beach in four years, and never during the day, so I was curious. 
 
The ‘waves’ at Haad Rin beach

I smirk when I see when I see the ‘waves’ at Haad Rin beach. Waves are a generous word for what I saw as cocktail glass clinking movements. Extremely gentle, like little sips of a blue hawaii at sunset. Not the full body slaps of Australian waters. The ones that can knock the life out of you, and your togs.

 
‘Look here’s a big map! Let’s see whether the tree is marked on that!’
 
‘See it? I’m sure I know which 7/11 that is!’ 
 
‘So do I’ Tom laughs ‘7/11s are few and far between here!’
 
‘I really want to find the tree’ Michelle echos my inner enthusiasm. I have never seen three people so eager to find a tree.
 
‘That’s the 7/11, it’s got to be.’
 
‘Oh look, that’s a sign for a doubled headed coconut tree. Maybe we could find that!’ Tom and I stare at Michelle.
‘It seemed to be near that temple… oh look, oh look – there’s the sign!’ 
 
‘We’ve found it!!’ 
 
‘It doesn’t look as big as I thought it would be.’
 
‘No.’


‘It says biggest Yang Na tree.’

‘I guess we should walk around it.’

 

This biggest Yang Na tree is estimated to be 400 years old. The Yang Na is the queen of the forest because, as you can see in the photo – they shoot to the top of the canopy and can live to up to 700 years! ‘Yang’ means resin and ‘Na’ means ricefields. These trees

were found in and around ricefields, they cope with flooding and provide nutrients to the fields. The resin has been used by Thais in the past for a range of uses including torches and sealing of boats, but is being investigated for potential diesel and biofuel possibilities.

We found it!


After all that hard work, we decided we needed a drink, from the prettiest of perches.