The Burmese Tragedy

The date is 8 March 2008 and newspaper the headline in front of me reads: “66,500 dead and 40,000 missing”. I don’t have the heart to pick it up, despite the fact it would be the first source of English news in days.

I know what happened. I was there…

Yangoon Temples

6 days earlier Myanmar was hit by cyclone Nargis which killed more than 138,000 people and flooded most of the southern part of the country. It resulted in electricity, water and telephone line cuts, separating this secluded southeast Asian nation ever further from its neighbours. The thought of this country being further crippled by forces of nature, on top of everything it’s already gone through brings tears to my eyes and makes me upset that in case nature disasters, there is no one to blame. Nevertheless this trip had taught me more about the country and more about travel than any other.

1st May holidays were closing in and Myanmar was still on my list of countries to visit. It was one of the less touristy destinations on our bucket list, making it automatically more fascinating. Despite being eminent travelers, none of our friends had visited this part of the world before, which was why we had to read up on everything well in advance and prepare  well for what awaited us in land once known as Burma.

Hot summer afternoon in Yangoon

We landed in Yangoon, Myanmar’s largest city and decided to spend the day exploring what the city has to offer. We were disappointed to find out that it wasn’t much. Other than a complex of huge golden pagodas, several smaller temples and the local market there wasn’t much to see. We were caught in heavy traffic and were followed by stray dogs, passing large open air markets where meat was sold in the hot summer sun. It didn’t seem different from most of the Asian countries we visited before, but the regular power cuts, lack of ATMs and Coca Cola ads as well as the fact that our phones were not working reminded us, continuously, that we were not just in any Southeast Asian country.

After some preplanning in the hotel we befriended a local who was running the facilities we were staying in. I spent some time chatting about the must-visit spots of Yangoon, the hot weather and local fashion. He eventually told me about the special yellow thanaka wooden bricks women mix with

Burmese boy with thanaka paste

water to create a paste-like substance and put on their face as as cream which serves as sunscreen protecting the skin from the harsh sun and make up at the same time. In no time he was mashing up a paste, showing me how it’s done and dabbing it onto my cheeks, carefully drawing large yellow circles across my face. I ended up putting thanaka on my face every day during this trip.

This is probably the most vivid memory I have of Yangoon which had not fascinated us much. We quickly purchased tickets to visit the northern territory and natural spots which were both UNESCO heritage sites as well as sacred spots for locals.

Bagan is probably the most well known and most visited town in Burma. It is comprised of 3000 Buddhist pagodas built between 11 and 13 century AD. Our hotel was the only one located in the very middle with a 360 degree view of all the temples. As we would sit on the patio, watching the

Bagan, the land of 3,000 temples

sunset over the perfectly flat land, we would observe the thousands of temple tops of various shapes and sizes and I remember thinking that we were in heaven.

It was one of those moments in time when everything stops, everything is tranquil and you can only hear yourself breathe and try not to, so you don’t disturb the perfect stillness.

We spent several days and numerous sunrises on top of different pagodas watching this ancient city, observing the ruins and learning more about their significance.

I don’t know whether it was because it was out of season or if Myanmar was just not the spot of choice for tourists, but we were the only people around and we seemed to have all the time in the world. Everything seemed too good to be true.

As we were sitting on the patio one night the local hotel manager who joined us observed that there was a slight breeze. I clearly remember him commenting that the breeze was not good and that they

An honest smile

wouldn’t get the wind so high up North during May. The following day we found out that our flight to Inle Lake, further southeast of the country, was cancelled and that there was a “big storm” in Yangoon which landed all the flights.

We had a few more days until our departure from Myanmar but we were desperate for more information. The last thing you want to do is be find yourself trapped in a land of no internet, lack of phone lines and political instability. Our minds were working fast, we needed to find a way to get back to Yangoon. It was the only way to get more information.

After a grueling 20-hour ride south to Yangoon, we finally entered the southern territories at 6am. The sun was creeping up, waking us from the flimsy sleep in the car. Everything was perfectly still and at one point in time I raised my head only to notice we were moving through water. The wheels of the car were submerged and we were passing behind other vehicles trying to enter the city.

The army attempting to remove trees from the roads

At that point in time we looked out into the horizon and saw that the city was flooded. Houses seemed to be floating and by passing through this river we seemed to be disturbing the peace, causing ripples around the car.

An hour later, following a very slow ride to the city, we finally entered Yangoon to see that the city was fully awake and mobilised. The army was engaged moving the trees which were in the middle of the roads. People were clearing glass from the streets and moving lamp posts, billboards as well as collecting food and scraps to make shelter.

Most of the buildings were severely damaged and it wasn’t until we saw trees laying horizontally, ripped out from the ground together with their roots that we gasped in disbelief. We were witnessing the aftermath of what was one of the biggest tragedy Myanmar has ever had.

Yangoon was only 'slightly damaged' compared to the rest of the country

Over the next few days, we desperately tried to get in touch with loved ones, using the only satellite phone in the city, gathering the spare US dollars we had and dealing with a huge rise in food, hotel and transportation prices. The cost of petrol jumped 10 times following the disaster and suddenly we could no longer afford the regular trips to the airport to enquire what was happening with our flight and when the airport was due to open.

We learned that the cyclone washed up various debris onto the runway and damaged some of the communication equipment. This resulted in a general airport shut down and thousands of tourists stranded in Yangoon. All those tourists we couldn’t find during the first few days suddenly appeared at the airport – desperately trying to get out. People were trapped with no money and no way to get cash. They were refused to stay at the airport and couldn’t even afford a trip back to the city. All this however was not even close to what the locals were experiencing.

Trees were ripped from the roots and poles were pulled out of the roads resulting in dangerous hanging wires

The villages surrounding Yangoon were flooded, with poor sewage systems, drowning thousands who couldn’t swim and trapping many more inside their houses without food or fresh water.

It was incredible to watch so many people get together and everyone working on a rescue mission or towards obtaining food and other supplies. The army we heard so much about was utilising equipment to remove trees and enable traffic, working in teams spread around the city. It felt like a war zone.

Cyclone Nargis had cut off Myanmar even further from the rest of the world.

Within a few days we were able to get on the first flight out to Singapore and officially became the first foreigners to leave Myanmar. We were extremely lucky! Having landed in Singapore we only then started getting information and reading what the international media was reporting. We were interviewed by various media houses and our photos and stories made it around the world. It turns out everyone wanted to find a way into Myanmar and international press was not allowed to enter without the appropriate visas. We found out the people were desperate for help but due to sanctions agains Myanmar international agencies couldn’t get their act together to deliver aid by air for quite a while. And while the politics played their usual role, people were suffering, dying.

Burmese monks at play - This is how I'd prefer to remember Myanmar

It was the only time I was truly grateful to be a foreigner and have a safe haven to escape to but at the same time my heart went out to the locals, their families, loved ones who were suffering so much. There was nothing we could do. The feeling of helplessness is the worse.

Myanmar will always remain in my thoughts as one of the most naturally pristine countries visited and one I ought to go back to. Despite the political instability and years of suppression and isolation the people we met were lovely, helpful and joyful individuals who had that same Southeast Asian gentle charm I adore.

Maybe one days things change, people stop hating and nature stops punishing the already vulnerable.

The Kingdom of a Million Elephants

Sitting at the back of an old van, you are in for a long ride. It takes almost 12 hours from the Vientiane, the capital city, to the next destination in North Laos, but you are not tired. On the contrary! You don’t feel the bumps on the road or the sharp curves through the tiny villages in the middle of these pristine mountains along the way.

The exquisite Laos scenery

You are preoccupied by the exquisite scenery – stretches of large stones and never-ending hills covered with palm trees, the tiny palm-leaf huts, red earth covering the feet of children playing on the streets and colours, lots of exquisite and vivid colours.

Every once in a while an occasional snake or a cow crosses the road. You see a banana-selling stand on the side of the road and pass many schools where children play freely in huge open-air school playgrounds.

You are hypnotised by the serenity and calmness of The Kingdom of Laos, one of the most magical countries in Asia.

Despite tourism picking up and becoming an upcoming hotspot for European travelers, Laos is still fairly bound to its traditions not allowing the flowing tourists to disrupt the way of life. With behaviour instruction posters and tips on how to communicate with the Lao people, it seems very foreign and distant to the western world yet remains intriguing and attracts millions of tourists each year.

One place in particular is a spot you don’t want to miss if you visit the Kingdom of a Million Elephants – Luang Prabang. They call it the “Jewel of Indochina”.

Getting everything ready for the night market

It is a city trapped in time where the day starts at sunrise with the morning alms and offerings to the hundreds of monks who inhabit this precious 15-century city.

This city, flooded with tourists and agencies, tiny souvenir shops and massage/beauty parlours may come across as ‘nothing different’ from any other city in the region but when you realise how much history, charisma and charm this city has you instantly want to stay longer.

Each day ends with the opening of the buzzing night market covering several streets filled with crafts, art and silk in every shape and form.

Luang Prabang was the capital of Laos in the 14th century. The city was known as Muang Sawa but changed its name soon after Cambodian officials sent the great (Luang) gold Buddha (the Prabang) as a gift to the people of the city. The Prabang is the symbol of the city today and sits in the National Museum which used to be the King’s palace.

Luang Prabang is the point on the map, where the great brown Mekong River (flowing South) and the green Mae Kok River (flowing East) meet.

Down the Mekong river we go

The exact point is a whirlpool not far away from the centre of the city where both the green and the brown river meet and build an incredible playground for the children (who otherwise cannot swim in either of the rivers at the currents are too strong). This is exactly where the UNESCO Heritage and Natural Site statue sits, in the shade of the palm trees, overlooking the merging of the two rivers.

Not far away from this location is the mini port where visitors rent long boats to take them for an incredible journey up the river towards some of the most amazing Buddha caves in Asia. This may as well be the most vivid memory of the trip: a 4 hour up and down trip listening to the sound of the boat engine slowly making its way through the brown-yellow water flowing all the way from China. Due to the fact that it was the dry season, several islands have emerged from the river and you could see the people watering rice on the river banks and fishing close to these islands.

Only the experienced can fish and sail through these rivers. The river seemed to be the only wild thing in the whole of Laos.

As we made our way to the caves, children are tugging at our clothes, selling tiny birds in small cages. One dollar, one dollar! They shout at us. The guide explains it is a tradition to release birds for good fortune and the children seemed to have picked up well on the tradition. We spent the rest of the afternoon visiting rice whiskey villages and drinking the traditional dark Lao beer by the river side in the cool February breeze.

The famous Luang Prabang temple

We finish our boat trip and want more. The guide smiles at us and points us to an enormous golden roof-like structure peeking through a jungle of palm tree leafs. The shine of the building in the afternoon sun was surreal. It is the biggest, most beautiful Buddhist temple I have ever seen.

Built in the 16th century for the King himself, Wat Xieng Thong is certainly the most exquisite building of them all. Decorated with coloured glass and gold, it was built in the traditional Luang Prabang style which means low, wide and dark from the outside decorated with many details on the outer as well an inner part of the walls.

Its roof stretches rather low and is decorated with many images and Mother Earth sculptures. About 50 monks and students live in this temple. It is a complex of several buildings where Monks eat, sleep and pray. Once you enter the temple you are blown away by the massive golden sculptures of Buddha, shining down towards the entrance, sitting in various postures, spreading harmony and calmness all over the space expelling all negativity.

You cannot help but close your eyes and let you mind be at peace.

The beautiful Lao people

There over 30 temples like this in Luang Prabang and you can see all of them from the hill top (Mount Phousi) overlooking the rivers, the town and beyond. It is a common spot for both locals and tourists to watch the sunset from.

They call Laos one of the poorest countries in the region and I call it one of the richest countries I’ve ever seen, flooded with culture and traditions, history and customs. It could surely be called a natural haven for the westerners.

Maintaining its tranquillity in every palm tree, every long boat and every silk scarf selling corner shop, Laos is most certainly the ideal get away from the bustling world.

A Perfect Moment

And when I close my eyes and picture a perfect moment in time, I remember no smells, no taste. Just a fresh breeze on your face and a sound of nothingness, of freedom.

So far away, so far above the sea, yet low under the clouds, feeling so small but so empowered.

Emerged in pure happiness, the simple joy of life. Nothing but us with our thoughts in an almost meditative state where everything is good, everything is simple. Your mind become clear and your senses sharpen. You are embraced by love, warmth and bliss, feeling everything around you, amplifying your understanding and pursuing the sense of being.

A sudden awareness of gratefulness, for everything around you, everything within you. You want to shout and jump up and down in excitement and at the same time stand perfectly still and soak up the emotions, the overwhelming variation of feelings and tingling sensations, stretching my face into a smile.

And then I open my eyes. Slowly, gently, taking in the light and the impressive views before me. I am on the Dochula Pass in Bhutan overlooking the Himalayan mountain ranges and am surrounded by prayer flags and its 108 chortenes on the way towards central Bhutan.

With the gentle wind against my face and the sense of complete emotional freshness, I return to the present to take in the stunning views. The tranquil, picturesque backdrop mother nature has painted for us and the feeling of complete wellbeing and exuberance is a memory I will cherish forever and return to in the moments of need.

What was your perfect moment?

Dochula Pass, Bhutan located 3150m above sea level overlooking the Himalayan mountain range

The Potala Palace – A home that once was

When one thinks of Lhasa, the first thing that comes to mind, almost instantaneously, is the majestic Potala.

The construction of this white multi-leveled and multi-structured building with red and gold rooftops commenced back in the 7th century and it served as a Tibetan government house and the home of his Holiness – the Dalai Lama.

The walls of the Potala tower over the city of Lhasa and stretch high into the mountain

Potala was named after a holy hill in South India and it is a Sanskrit word which means ‘Abode of the Buddha of Compassion.’

This magnificent building measures 400m in length, with sloping stone walls averaging 3m in thickness (not your average home) and with copper poured into the foundations to help proof it against earthquakes. Once you get closer you notice that the isolation is due to millions of thin branches tied together and compressed into the building material to keep the living quarters warm during the painfully cold winters.

The Potala is comprised of thirteen stories of buildings – containing over 1,000 rooms, 10,000 shrines and about 200,000 statues – soaring 117m on top of Marpo Ri, the “Red Hill”, rising more than 300m in total above the valley floor.

It is a true architectural marvel which has been standing strong for centuries. Today, it is no longer used for its intended purpose and serves as a museum for thousands of tourists and pilgrims who visit the Potala each year.

It also serves as a reminder of what this city used to be like and the spiritual power that once sat there overlooking the city of Lhasa in the valley below.

As we climbed up the steep steps to reach the main building we couldn’t help but remember and show compassion for all those who have done so in the past with the intend to visit all the reincarnations of the Dalai Lama who were educated, who slept, eat and meditated in this very building. Given that the palace is located at 3,700m above sea level, the climb was tough and the workers, the monks and Tibetan people who worked and visited this place must have done this exact climb many times each and every day.

Pilgrims resting before attempting a climb up the Potala stairs

Walking up and knowing that the Dalai Lama was not there was saddening but the place had an mysterious aura surrounding it, making the butterflies in our stomachs flutter with excitement on what we will find up there. But despite its great isolation and the burning incense and butter lamp offerings around us, the building felt cold and lonely.

The architecture is breathtaking. The tall white walls stretch up into the sky and you don’t see the decoration of the courtyards until you are on the very inside of the building (at which point they kindly warn you to put away all cameras and phones).

Its walls are painted in vivid colours and lively patters explaining various stories and historical moments. All the doors are covered in fabrics with the Buddhist symbols for eternity before which bells are hung for pilgrims to ring and they enter the individual chambers. The details didn’t seize to amaze us. Behind each door there was something else, something more breathtaking, worth a picture, worth a memory which would be locked inside our minds forever.

The door handles were a golden dragons from which colourful rainbow ribbons hung low. Children would use these are they entered the rooms and touch the ribbons to their foreheads instead of prostrating like the grown-ups did.

Everything was charged with colour and detail, so much to take in, so much to notice. I remember thinking “not enough time, not enough lifetimes”.

Today the top of the Potala has a PRC flag instead of the colorful Tibetan one which once stood on the top

The golden Buddha-like statues towered above us with their turquoise eyes, red coral decorations and surrounded by precious stones and other gemstones found in this mountainous land. We were told these statues were all the reincarnations of Dalai Lama and each of them had their own room, dedicated only to them, decorated only with their own possessions. Each one had its own story – each one stranger and more interesting than the one before.

The large halls smelled of melting butter and the musky smell of closed spaces made us dizzy (the altitude didn’t help). Each room was different. Each room served a purpose and had a name, a story, its own history and these we retold by all the tour guides in various languages.

The place though, no matter how breathtaking, felt like a ghost house – filled with tourists and guides. If it wasn’t for the numerous pilgrims making their way through the crowds and showering the statues with white scarfs (which are traditionally given as a sign of good omen and blessing) and money, chanting as they passed by, counting their prayer beads and spinning their prayer wheels, we would have felt like we were in a museum.

The crowds were incredible though. Watching them, their passion, their motivation and concentration was inspiring. You could feel their energy and love, a complete sense of peace surrounding the premises.

We almost felt like ghosts, intruders, walking through somebody’s property, someone’s sacred space, something we don’t fully understand which was for us, a breathtaking piece of art.

One of the original stupas surrounding the Potala

The Potala was first UNESCO listed in 1994 and this listing spread further to include some of the most significant temples in Lhasa.

Today, it is a tourist spot for people from all corners of the world eager to tick-off another UNESCO heritage site on their bucket list, the ones who are just curious to see what the fuss is about or wonderers of the word, like us, who want to try to understand, remember and feel the importance of this palace and how it moulded the culture of this far away place, such a long time ago… for eternity.

Holy Lhasa

Time flew by, as we crossed this enormous country, making our way from Nepal to the capital of Tibet.

Each city we stopped in, we overheard people talking about Lhasa, telling us stories and myths. It was surprising how very few actually visited the capital and how many had the motivation to do their annual pilgrimage in this holy city.

Pilgrims from Eastern Tibet with their colorful fashion visit the holy city

Unlike the other Tibetan cities, we seemed to be entering Lhasa for a long time – passing through the industrial zone, the huge car salons and the warehouses lined along the main road. We told ourselves we picked a good time to come visit Tibet (Chinese New Year) since all the factories were closed for the week and most of the population had gone to other parts of China while many East Tibetans were visiting Lhasa for their annual pilgrimage.

The feeling of excitement fluttering inside our bellies was growing with each passing street as we were making our way towards the city center. The guide was explaining that the city’s inner circle is one large area the locals would use for their morning koras (praying and prostrations around the city in clockwise direction). It has a very large circumference  so it could take people an entire day to cover. It was our first glimpse into the religious passion of this city.

The streets were buzzing with life and we were happy to find out that our hotel was in the very heart of the action, located in one of the small side alleys, just behind the main square. We could hardly wait to leave our luggage and explore it.

Dharma symbol towering over Lhasa's main square

Lhasa literally means ‘the city of gods’ and being one of the highest cities in the world (it sits at 3,490m or 11,450ft) we could see why. There was a majestic feel to the place and as dusk was drawing near, we headed to Barkhor city square and the Jokhang Market. All we knew was that we had to walk in the direction that everyone else walked.

“Just follow the masses” our guide said. We knew this meant clockwise direction but were not prepared for what we were about to see.

The Jokhang Temple was located in the middle of the Barkhor Square, surrounded by small stalls selling religious relics and thousands of people. We immediately spotted it without having to refer to any maps. This temple has remained a key center of Buddhist pilgrimage for centuries. The kora was marked by four large stone incense burners placed at the corners of the temple complex. The rooftop was gold in colour and had a huge statue of Dharma (two deers flanking a Dharma wheel) overlooking the front entrance of the temple.

After all we read, all the research we did, all the locals we talked to, nothing could have prepared us for the sight of hundreds of people prostrating all around the square and right in front of the sacred temple. Elderly and children, men and women. They all had plastic bags wrapped around their hands and dark marks on their foreheads so when their bodies would make contact with the floor, belly-down, their arms would come above their heads and their foreheads would gently touch the cold pavement, leaving a dark mark.

View from the top of the temple

The prostration was very similar to any religious prayer but this one would start with kneeling and then placing the entire top part of the body on the floor. The individual would be completely stretched out on the floor and would bring their arms up above their head, palm touching right above the head.

They would get back on their knees and stand up straight with their hands in prayer position before attempting the same motion a few meters ahead. And this would happen all around the square many times.

The routine reminded me a little of my sun salutation in yoga and sent shivers down my spine to see so many people in such passionate religious sync.

As we climbed the top of the temple to get a birds eye view we just saw a mish-mash of colours and synchronized movements. The chanting sound of the prayers was like a buzz of melodies and I closed my eyes to feel the cold air on my face and the smell of fire burning and incense.

The sensation kept us warm and brought upon us a strange sense of calmness and peace.