froginmythroat (FIMT)

A research essay for the Stage 3 University of Auckland paper POLITICS332: Comparative Regime Transition.

Abstract
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Our ride out of Hsipaw was by train, much more pleasant (and slower) than a public bus. We crossed the Goteik bridge, the most impressive railway bridge of its kind when it was built. I noticed all the railway crossing were manned. Where we would have a motorised barrier, there was a little shack and a person would came out when the train passed and lower the barrier arm. All the while a roaming one-legged minstrel strummed away on his guitar and sang (before asking for money). Read the rest of this entry »

Inspired by some photos, guest book entries, and the paragraph or two in my guide book, I wanted to go to Namhsan. But how to get there? There was a public bus which would take a day to go the 80 or so kilometers, but I chose to rent a motorbike.Namhsan is the biggest of one of several villages high in the hills above Hsipaw. The “Switzerland of Myanmar”, my guide book says. Read the rest of this entry »

The Chinese Myanmar couple and son we met in the restaurant in Pyin Oo Lwin took us in their car further North East.Along the way the driver turned off the main road onto a dirt track, and drove for several kilometers before reaching a ordinary looking house. Invited inside, I saw an old man sitting on the floor at a table, and a group of people gathered around him. Apparently this man had once correctly predicted the Thailand lottery numbers and now people came to him in the hope he could do it again. While we waited he wrote out his current predictation, as many times as there were people, before handing them out. Two weeks later the lottery would be drawn, and the gathered crowd hoped to become millionaires. Would they be so lucky? Read the rest of this entry »

Monks command a lot of respect in Myanmar. An example of this occurred on the night bus ride from Kalaw to Mandalay.We hadn’t booked ahead and had to resort to grabbing a bus as it went by. Without a booking we would be resigned to the dreaded aisle seat – a chair that folds out into the aisle, with a really low back making it impossible to sleep. But the bus driver would not let U Ki sit here, to do so would be disrespectful. A discussion ensued and one of the other passengers diligently gave up his seat for the monk. Together, the volunteer and I would have to sit (we couldn’t sleep) out the next 8 hours of the night in this infamous chair. Read the rest of this entry »

I thought Myanmar wasn’t well touristed, but landing in Yangon I saw about only 10 Myanmar nationals go through customs, the rest of the flight were non-nationals. What sort of country has more non-nationals crossing the border than nationals? A poor one I concluded. Read the rest of this entry »

Pindaya is really hard to get to by public transport, there’s only one bus a day at a bad time.
The scenery on the way is very beautiful – rolling hills, different from the earlier surrounds. We went to Pindaya to see a cave containing several thousand Buddha images (statues). After the cave visit we sat and had tea with a local couple. They told us there was a flying English speaking monk in the nearby monastery. A flying monk? I had heard legends of such feats in Kyaikhtiyo, would I be actually be able to see this act of anti-psychics? So we went and paid him a visit. Read the rest of this entry »

From Kyaikhtiyo we went to Taunggyi by bus. 3 buses and 28.5hrs later we arrived. Read the rest of this entry »

The initial sights of Yangon are beautiful and refreshing.Taking the taxi from the airport the roads are wide and tree lined. We passed some cathedrals and the stunning gold covered Swedagon Pagoda. I felt like I was in an English city, which it was until 1948. The layout is not like other Asian cities. Read the rest of this entry »

One night in Yangon I was catching the ridiculously crowded public bus back to my guest house. I was standing up the front where the monks sit. Reaching for some money the monk in the seat shook his head at me. I wanted to pay the attendant but the monk kept giving me this look of “Don’t”. The monk didn’t speak English but eventually I worked out that he had paid for me and he wanted to help me get home. When we got down I thought he would just point me in the right direction and be gone but he escorted me right inside my guest house. The owner spoke English and told me the monk would like to come tomorrow to see me at 10 o’clock. What could I do but say OK? Read the rest of this entry »

Myanmar appeared more democratic that I thought it would appear. It seemed like any other country I had been except for the following that I managed to gather. Read the rest of this entry »