Some weeks back, I wrote about the political changes in Myanmar, a country I visited for four days in February. I would have followed it up the following week with this article on Yangon, Myanmar’s premier city, which so charmed me, but life happened and other topics got in the way. Anyway, I truly liked Yangon and I want to return one day before development catches up with it and depletes its old-world charm.
Myanmar is a big country, reportedly with many interesting destinations, but Yangon is a good place to start for the accidental tourist on a short working visit.
Since the country opened up to democracy, tourists and development aid workers have come in droves, and Yangon has started to bustle. Hotels, office buildings, malls, and condominiums are rising all over the city. It’s only a matter of time before high-end Western brands open shop, cheek to jowl with fast-food joints.
Yangon still has an old-world appeal in its quaint architecture that uses beautiful hardwood harvested from its still-rich forests. It is evident in the golden pagodas that rise above the city’s ancient trees like jewelry adorning its still-green horizon. It is found in the men who look elegant in sarongs called longyi, with collarless shirts and short jackets and slippers; and the women, also in sarongs, topped with a slim-fitting blouse and a shawl, are stunning with fresh flowers pinned on their hair, like Aung Sang Suu Kyi.
What a shame it would be to see these replaced by glitzy new buildings and western fashion.
Like every city, Yangon has its seedy section, but it also has wide avenues lined with ancient trees and beautiful stately homes. The government buildings we visited are rather shabby, needing new coats of paint and some upgrading, especially of its rest rooms, but they are low-rises that do not disturb the skyline.
There are good restaurants everywhere that serve tasty local and foreign dishes — soft-shell crabs and bamboo shoots seem to be staples there, and the service personnel are warm and welcoming.
The market is small and friendly, with great bargains in jade bracelets, necklaces and earrings, and other semi-precious and precious stones. My friend from Cambodia, however, was more into slippers — comfortable thongs made of velvet with leather or rubber soles that the men and women wear everywhere, and seem to be a hit with tourists.
Cabs are aplenty and fares reasonable. The downside is, most cab drivers don’t understand English. But unlike in big cities where cab drivers can be arrogant and even threatening, in Yangon, they are still generally pleasant, and no one tried to put one over this clueless traveller.
Two images of Yangon are embedded in my mind: the full moon over the magnificent Shwedagon Pagoda that dominates the Yangon skyline, and the long boardwalk over the Royal Lake beside the Kadawigyi Palace Hotel where I stayed.
The Shwedagon Pagoda is awesome in its size and magnificence. Built centuries ago on top of a hill, it stands 100 meters tall. According to the brochure I was given after paying $8 at the entrance, it is made up of layers of gold plates and moldings in gold leaf, topped by a 500-pound gold spire and weather vane studded with diamonds and other precious stones. The pagoda shimmers invitingly in the distance, day and night. It is hard to imagine such astounding wealth on public display elsewhere.
While residents were at Shwedagon to worship and consult with resident monks, tourists like myself walked barefoot and in silence, amid the kneeling worshipers on a cool marble floor, gazing open-mouthed at the treasures on display — countless Buddha images of all sizes and poses, done in gold, jade, and ivory in hundreds of gold-lined altars, large and small, surrounding the pagoda.
The boardwalk over the Royal Lake, on the other hand, is quiet and rustic. From my hotel room window, I watched Yangon residents run, jog or walk their dogs, children and elderly, early in the morning before the sun got too hot. When I joined the walkers one morning, a young man burst into operatic vocalization as he jogged. The boardwalk winds around the lake, starting and ending in a park where people do slow movement exercises at sunrise and sundown. In the evening, as expected, the boardwalk is host to romantic couples who stroll under the moonlight by the calm lake waters.
Yangon still treats its visitors well, the hospitality is excellent. It is no wonder the country is attracting hordes of tourists, reportedly, some two million last year. Where I stayed, the hotel was full of vacationists, mostly seniors, snow birds fleeing from the winter in Europe. Tourists, plus international development and NGO workers keep its hotel occupancy rate high.
It is hard to imagine that just a few years back, Myanmar was an oppressive police state, controlled by generals who made all the rules, ran all the businesses, and repressed the people’s rights. The generals’ disregard for human rights so violated universal values that the West imposed heavy economic sanctions on the military regime. The sanctions kept Myanmar isolated, its people poor. And its culture was pretty much uncontaminated by Western commercialism, so that up to now, Yangon still has the charm of an old city.
Now that the sanctions have been lifted, it shouldn’t take long for Yangon to be built up into something approximating a first-world city. I just hope that whoever is in charge learns from the experience of other newly-emerged democracies and strikes a balance between the people’s need for livelihood, economic development and Western amenities on the one hand, and the preservation of what is good, beautiful, and authentic in their culture and lifestyle, on the other.