We spent the first full day wandering towards/by/thru interest points in downtown Yangon. It was hotter than hell, at one point we let our HANGER get the best of us, but it felt amazing to get lost in such a bustling, different city.
(The following information is taken directly from wikipedia)
Chinlone is the traditional sport of Burma (Myanmar). Chinlone is a combination of sport and dance, a team sport with no opposing team. In essence chinlone is non-competitive. The focus is not on winning or losing, but how beautifully one plays the game.
A team of six players pass the ball back and forth with their feet, knees and heads as they walk around a circle. One player goes into the center to solo, creating a dance of various moves strung together. The soloist is supported by the other players who try to pass the ball back with one kick. When the ball drops to the ground it is dead, and the play starts again.
Chinlone means “basket-rounded or rounded basket ” in Burmese. The ball is woven from rattan, and makes a distinctive clicking sound when kicked that is part of the aesthetic of the game. Players use six points of contact with the ball: the top of the toes, the inner and outer sides of the foot, the sole, the heel, and the knee. The game is played barefoot or in chinlone shoes that allow the players to feel the ball and the ground as directly as possible. The typical playing circle is 6.7 metres (22 ft) in diameter. The ideal playing surface is dry, hard packed dirt, but almost any flat surface will do.
Chinlone is over 1,500 years old and was once played for Burma royalty. Over the centuries, players have developed more than 200 different ways of kicking the ball. Many of the moves are similar to those of Burma dance and martial art. Some of the most difficult strokes are done behind the back without seeing the ball as it is kicked. Form is all important in chinlone: there is a correct way to position the hands, arms, torso, and head during the moves. A move is considered to have been done well only if the form is good.
Burma is a predominantly Buddhist country, and chinlone games are a featured part of the many Buddhist festivals that take place during the year. The largest of these festivals goes on for more than a month with up to a thousand teams. An announcer calls out the names of the moves and entertains the audience with clever wordplay. Live music from a traditional orchestra inspires the players and shapes the style and rhythm of their play. The players play in time to the music and the musicians accent the kicks.
Both men and women play chinlone, often on the same team. Adults and children can play on the same team, and it is not unusual to see elders in their 80s playing.
Yangon is the capital of Myanmar (Burma) and the country’s largest city. We arrived around 9PM and the city was already dark. I arranged for the hostel to pick us up from the airport because I didn’t want to worry about bartering for a taxi ride. I wasn’t sure what a fair fare would be and I was concerned they wouldn’t understand the address I had, which was written in English.
The culture shock was immediate. I went to the airport bathroom and in the first stall was a little girl that looked like she was 9, on her hands and knees in flip-flops scrubbing the squatty potty hole. Seeing someone on the ground that close to one of those portals to hell, without gloves or a mask or her hair tied back, made me forget that I even had to go and I 180-d the hell out of there.
The employee picking us up from the airport was a polite and soft-spoken kid named Gosu, he told us he was 24 but I would have guessed 17. As we drove home from the airport on barely lit streets, I stared out the window and began to get kind of nervous about my surroundings. Everything was really dark, but the storefronts that were lit were dusty and ramshackle.
As we approached downtown Yangon, Gosu’s car was stopped by a handful of soldiers standing in the street. Without a word, one of them opened the front two car doors, examined Gosu and the front passenger’s seat with a flashlight, shut the doors and waved us on. As painless as it was, I was incredibly unnerved. Gosu apologized and said that they just started doing that, due recent changes in government. (Read more about that here)
Once we arrived at our hostel, I was relieved to see groups of tourists sitting on the patio drinking and chatting. A boy that looked younger than Gosu grabbed my bag and schlepped it up to our room. The official working age in Myanmar is 12 but the people look 30% younger than they really are, so at first glance it looked like the place was being run by a bunch of 8-12 year olds.
I sat on the bed and wondered what the hell I had gotten us into, thankfully Aleksiy interrupted my downward spiral and suggested that we go downstairs to get a drink.
We joined a table of Germans and Indians chatting in English, sharing a bottle of Johnny Walker. All of the Germans (except for 1, Jeremiah (?)) had to leave in the morning so they cleared out early. What ensued was a really fun night of incredible conversation spanning family, religion, politics, Myanmar, and cultural differences.
I’ll tell you about the Indians because they were my fave, although I can’t remember their names. They were 2 brothers from Punjab, one was ~55, the other ~60+. They were the bookends of 6 siblings, the only 2 still living. The younger one did most of the talking (great jokes!), and it was fascinating getting to know both them. The younger is a general practice doc, went to med school in England and lives there now with his English wife and daughter nearby (who recently birthed his first grandchild!) The older still lives in India, is a psychiatrist and a practicing Sikh, with lots of adult kids and grandchildren. He has a snow white beard that looked awesome with his dark skin, black turban, and huge smile. Towards the end of the night he was kind enough to take off his turban so I could see what was under there. To my delight he was sporting a the cutest snow-white top knot! We all laughed and I told him how stylish his hairstyle was.
We ended up polishing off the bottle of whiskey, and I fell asleep happy, grateful, and excited to be in Myanmar.
We arranged for a trip out to the floating market through our hostel, all in all I would give it a 6/10 stars. I didn’t realize that there were several floating markets– and that the Damnoen Sadauk is the one geared toward tourists.
The tour included a paddleboat trip around the market, and then a fastboat trip around the neighboring community and farms. During the paddleboat trip you sit in a boat with about 8 other tourists and the boatman in the back steers you toward anything anyone is vaguely interested in purchasing from the vendors lined up along the banks.
There are also vendors perched precariously in their own boats, most selling food (coconut ice cream, fruit etc) and they paddle up alongside your boat and try to get you to buy a snack.
The fastboat trip was more interesting. The motors for these boats were a creative blend of all types of motors – some were pimped out in chrome, others looked like they were procured from an old from a weed whacker. The steering mechanism was a 12 foot rod with a propeller at the end of it, submerged in the water and maneuvered left or right as needed. They sounded like the diesel engine of an 18 wheeler. We called these “Mad Max” boats (If you haven’t seen that movie yet, go do it).
We took the Mad Max boats through the canals to the villages neighboring the floating market. We sped by fishermen untangling their nets, sweet little grandmas washing their clothes in the river, and an old man with a wide toothless grin taking a bath on his dock/porch.
After the Muay Thai match, we had a wonderful afternoon with Brooke & Matt, friends from Lincoln, Nebraska. In addition to being super fun, adventurous and incredibly good-looking, they are two of the most noble-minded people I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. Brooke and Matt came to Thailand to pursue master’s degrees in human rights – Matt now works at a university teaching human rights and Brooke founded a company (support Saphan) that gives rural artisans access to a sustainable market and fair wages (more on that here). It was fascinating to hear what life is like teaching Human Rights in a country ruled by a military junta, and how Brooke has used her education and business savvy to improve the lives of families all over Thailand’s countryside. Simply put, they are inspiring people.
My wonderful friends Brooke and Matt live just outside Bangkok, so as I was preparing for this trip I emailed Brooke for some tips and guidance. One of her many great recommendations was a weekly Muay Thai match that is broadcast live throughout Thailand. It sounded great because it’s definitely off the tourist track and we were excited to see what life outside the city was like.
Getting a ride to the stadium was a bit of a challenge, after 3 taxi fails and a disappointing Uber attempt we found success by agreeing to what we thought was a decent flat rate. (Maybe it was, there was a lot of traffic and it took 2x as long as the metered taxi Brooke & Matt got us for the ride home–which was half the price)
We arrived at Siam Boxing Stadium (aka Omnoi Stadium) an hour late but happy to be there. Bought a plastic ticket at the window (which you then give to the man at the door who then gives it right back to the woman at the window) and stepped inside. There are two main rooms, the first room is set with picnic tables full of bagged unidentifiable snacks for purchase and a second room only partially visible from the front entrance. From my initial vantage point, the second room held 300 locals (95% male) standing on bleacher-like steps yelling and waving their hands at something just out of view.
We walked passed the divide into the second room, and right there in front of us was the ring. Two of the fittest young men I’ve ever seen (like 10 sets of abs) were circling each other, bouncing and tapping their feet, mostly trying to fake each other out before landing a hit with a different body part than they started to strike with. The whole room smelled strongly of Tiger Balm. We watched in awe, trying to make sense of what was happening around us.
It was loud. On the other side of the ring, opposite the yelling wall of men there was a “rhythm section” featuring a couple of people on bongos/drums, a woman ringing finger cymbals, and a man playing some sort of kazoo. The rhythm section was cool because they got louder and increased their tempo as the time wore on. The timer on the wall was ancient, there was a 3, 2, and 1 that lit up at their respective minute marks, and a :30 when there was 30 seconds left. I’m guessing the fighters really rely (perhaps subconsciously) on the rhythm section, it seemed like the fight itself got more intense and scrappy as the tempo increased.
The yelling wall of men were all betting. It reminded me of the floor of the stock exchange. A lot of people had earbuds in and were yelling into their phones – I saw one guy that had 3 phones clipped to a clipboard and he was talking into all 3 of them at once. They were all waving their hands in the air and throwing up different numbers… and that’s about all I could make of it. The only way I could tell who was winning/losing money was by their facial expressions at the end of the match. To be honest, I think I watched the wall of men just as much as the fight itself.
The kind stranger who introduced us to our tuk-tuk driver told of us an amazing secret factory sale – bespoke suits made of imported Italian cashmere for around $300USD – or less! The sale was one week only, today was the last day – we should stop by on our tuk-tuk tour. He circled it on our map, we thanked him, and went on our way.
Our tuk-tuk driver was a sweet younger gentleman that knew very little English. He took us all over the Banglamphu region, stopping at every formidable building and temple we passed. When we wanted to stop and explore, he would sit and wait in a parking spot until we returned.
At our first stop, a beautiful monastery, I found Aleksiy talking to another kind stranger. He wanted to know where we were from, how long we were in town, etc… He gave us a few recommendations and also mentioned the last day of the amazing sale. We figured it was something to check out, so we added it to our itinerary and off we went.
Once we got around to the “Bangkok Factory” and went inside to see it for our own eyes, we realized we’d been had. It was a normal menswear store. The associates (ours was named Rahm, just like another snake oil salesman I know) didn’t even have the same “last day, one week only” story as the 2 men that had sent us there. We sat and listened to the Rahm’s spiel, when prompted touched a fabric labeled finest cashmere, mumbled a few “ooh very nice,” nodded politely, drank our complimentary waters, and GTFO to find our tuk-tuk driver.
Our driver smiled at our return, confirmed “no like, no buy!” and showed us the coupon for 5 liters of gas they gave him for taking us there. Would’ve appreciated the heads up on the way in, but at least we got out with our wallets. As our day continued, (and my animosity softened) we agreed to visit another suit store in a different neighborhood so he could get another coupon. He got his coupon, we got bottled water – not such a bad deal after all.
We arrived in Bangkok at midnight on Friday, 3/4/2016, after a 1.5 hour flight from Omaha to Chicago, a 5 hour layover at O’Hare, a 16 hour flight to Hong Kong, a 2 hour layover at HGK, and a 3 hour flight into BKK. We didn’t make it to our hostel until 4AM, due to my failure to research Thailand’s immigration policies for citizens of Bulgaria. Turns out citizens of the US don’t need a Thai Visa, but permanent residents with Bulgarian passports do, so Aleksiy had to go through the Visa on Arrival process while I panicked in the baggage claim. Great start!
We crashed in our room for maybe 4 hours before the sheer excitement of being in Bangkok had us up and roaming the streets. The first day was a lot of wide-eyed wandering. Aleksiy dove face first into street food in Chinatown while I maintained a bit of distance due to my sesame allergy (this didn’t last long- resistance is futile).
We made our way to Wat Pho and the Grand Palace before we succumbed to the heat and hopped into a tuk-tuk hailed for us by a friendly stranger. The man took my map and drew directions all over it, and arranged for the tuk-tuk driver to take us to all of the temples for only 40 baht (a little over 1USD). I knew Thailand was cheap, but this was unreal…
We are here in Bangkok and we love it. Our hostel is in Chinatown, which is very busy, kinda dirty, and a bit of a trek to anything touristy – but that’s ok because we like it like that. This first post will be short and sweet because we are approaching our last night in Bangkok and arrangements need to be made (i.e., before we leave for anything further than a mile radius I look up directions on my phone, establish a route, screenshot it, pack a bag/purse, repack it 3x, and then start walking).
Hopefully we will be somewhere slower soon so I can catch you up on all of the adventures (and smells, oh the smells!) we’ve had the joy of experiencing in the last few days. I cannot believe we’ve only been here since Thursday at 4AM. Tomorrow we head to Yangon, Myanmar and will be in that beautiful country for the next 12 days. I expect the internet to be shoddy at best, but who knows – one of my favorite things about traveling has been constant surprises.
Off to eat some street meats with my boo – thanks for checking in!
p.s. I wanted to name the blog “eatstreetmeat.com” (thought I struck gold when we determined the domain was available) but Aleksiy thought that might be a little too risqué.
Tales of a Southeast Asian Invasion 